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Barbary Coast
- Thread starter Barbaria1
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And she's good company for Barb!Well, she is French and she is blonde ... can't imagine
Nice chapter, Windar!
windar
Teller of Tales
20. 10 July, 1803 Mary
Stupid is what I was. I should have just said no to Karim’s idiotic idea. But I’d spent most of me life doing what I been told. “Bring me a tea, Mary,” says Lady Barbara and I brings her tea. “Suck my cock, Mary,” says Lord Moore, her father and Duke of Cruxton, and into me mouth it goes. “Become a Muslim and come with me to fuckin’ Rabat,” says Karim and I thinks, “Why the fuck not?”
So when Karim comes back to the ship after meetin’ all them high and mighty Turks and says, “Mary, I need you to go in to the Palace and help get your Lady Barbara out of there,” I knew in the end I would do it, because that’s the story of me whole fuckin’ life. I told him it was dumb, but he started into lickin’ me cunny and gettin’ me all worked up and pretty soon I would have walked through Hell for that man. He’s a handsome one for sure and very persuasive.
“Mary,” He says, handin’ me a brass vial. “In here is a drug that will put the Sehzade, that’s the Prince who has bought Lady Barbara, to sleep. All you need to do is sneak it into the Palace and slip it into his drink. Then you and Barbara fuck him and he’ll pass out. You call for a doctor and in the commotion, you escape.”
“Sneak it in?” I asks. “How?”
“Hide it in every woman’s most secret place,” he says droppin’ ‘is hand to me pussy and shovin’ it inside. It went in nice and easy, with how wet I was from fuckin’ him and all.
The plan sounds simple, right? My arse! I gets to the palace and asks for some guy named Beshir Agha, just like Karim told me. Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather, when some black man in a weird costume appeared and ordered me to follow him into some kind of fancy cathouse place with girls in various states of undress loungin’ around.
One of them speaks some English and she translates what the Negro is ordering me to do. “He says you take off clothes.”
“Why?” I asked. “I’m here to see Prince Sebad.”
“That’s Sehzade,” she corrected me, “And you do what Agha says, or trouble.”
Well I didn’t want none of that, so I takes me clothes off. One of the girls brings me a fancy set of clothes, all shiny silk and such, pants with big legs and a low cut shirt. Before I can put them on, this Beshir grabs me pussy. Just like that!
So I squeal and try to slap his hand away. “No worry,” the girl says, “He eunuch.”
“I don’t care what church he goes to, I don’t want his hands on me privates,” I tells her.
“No church,” she tells me. “Snip, snip,” she says and she points to her crotch. OK, I see, I guess that means he won’t fuck me, but still I don’t like him stickin’ his fingers up inside me. Especially when they comes out holdin’ Karim’s brass vial. Shit!
Beshir shouts somethin’ and two big guys come and grab me and drag me out of there and down a long stone staircase into a room all got up like a dungeon, with stone walls holdin’ torches and all kinds of furniture you won’t enjoy sitting on. They throw me onto me back on the stone floor, which is damn cold and hard and lift me legs up, lockin’ me ankles in some kind of stocks.
They left me alone long enough so I could have a bit of a look round. There was a low moanin’ sound and it took me a minute to figure out where it was coming from. But, cranin’ me head, I saw a girl, near me own age, a blonde, nice looking, hangin’ naked from the ceiling, her arms up over her head, her wrists held in iron manacles, her toes reachin’ out for the floor but fallin’ short by a few inches.
“Hello,” I says, “You speak English?”
“A leetle,” she replies, moanin’.
“I’m Mary,” I says. “And you?”
“Marie.” I’m pretty sure that’s French for Mary, so we’re two peas in a pod. And not a very nice pod, either.
“’How did you get yourself here?” I asks her.
“I was on a ship and these pirates took us and they sell me to a Turk.” Where have I heard that one before? “I am now slave of Kemal Agha, Captain of the Janissaries. He give me to two officers for the last night and one want to put his thing up, you know in the back, how you say in English?”
“Your arse?”
“Yes, in my arse. It is too tight and I cannot, so they put me here. They will whip me I think. What about you?”
I was about to give her me own tale of woe when a bloody commotion started up comin’ down the stairs. A woman screamin’, “Get your filthy paws off of me, you animals. I am an English Lady and concubine of the Sehzade himself. How dare you?” Now that was a voice I couldn’t mistake-it were the Lady Barbara herself, accompanied by two very large men who each had a hold of an arm.
She were dressed in a fancy costume like they were wantin’ to put me in before that black goon searched me, but the two brutes had her out of it in no time and threw her on the floor and trussed her ankles in the set of stocks right next to mine. Well who was the Lady and who was the maid now, eh?
I thought we might have a bit of time to get caught up, but them Turks had other ideas. Each of them two big muckers picks up a wicked lookin’ stick and starts whippin’ it through the air, makin’ a frightful sound that sent chills down me spine. One stood in front of me and one stood in front of Lady Barbara, each starin’ at our bare feet, which were raised in the stocks to about the level of the men’s waists. “Yirmi!” one of them says. “Yirmi!” repeats the other one. I didn’t know what that was (I later found out it was Turkish for twenty) but I knew it weren’t good.
And, by Jesus, I were right. Each one drew the whippy cane back and slashed it hard as he could against our helpless soles. God, it felt like walkin’ on hot coals. I screamed. The Lady Barbara screamed. They hit again. Pure agony. I twisted me legs madly tryin’ anythin’ to get me feet out of the way of the horrible cane, but the stocks held them solid like.
They kept hittin’ us, each one hurtin’ more than the last. I screamed meself hoarse and I’m sure Lady Barbara did the same. Tears was flowin’ down me cheeks. I turned to look at Lady Barbara and saw she were in the same way. Not able to do anythin’ else to help our situation, I reached me hand out towards her. She reached hers out and took mine, clenchin’ it like it were a lifeboat in a storm.
By this point I had lost count. I was sobbin’ and moanin’ with every stroke and so was the Lady Barbara, beggin’ them to stop, though it didn’t have no effect on the goons, who just kept whippin’ our poor feet. I can’t say if they gave us the full yirmi, but I reckon like they did. Why wouldn’t they after all? We were but helpless slave girls, to be punished or fucked as the Masters decided.
But finally, they stopped, leavin’ me poor feet a mess of agony. I couldn’t see them, but I was sure they were full of cuts and bruises.
By promet_he_us on DeviantArt
I hoped that were the end of it, but I feared it weren’t. For, just then, I heard voices comin’ down the stairs. A moment later, they came into view, two men dressed in fine silks. They were obviously very important, as the two goons bowed deeply and said somethin' to them in a very respectful tone of voice, like I used with His Lordship before takin’ his cock in me mouth. I could see Lady Barbara glarin’ at one of them, about to say somethin’ through her tears that maybe she oughtn’t to.
Was this the famous Sehzade and Captain Kemal Agha? I feared I were about to find out.
Stupid is what I was. I should have just said no to Karim’s idiotic idea. But I’d spent most of me life doing what I been told. “Bring me a tea, Mary,” says Lady Barbara and I brings her tea. “Suck my cock, Mary,” says Lord Moore, her father and Duke of Cruxton, and into me mouth it goes. “Become a Muslim and come with me to fuckin’ Rabat,” says Karim and I thinks, “Why the fuck not?”
So when Karim comes back to the ship after meetin’ all them high and mighty Turks and says, “Mary, I need you to go in to the Palace and help get your Lady Barbara out of there,” I knew in the end I would do it, because that’s the story of me whole fuckin’ life. I told him it was dumb, but he started into lickin’ me cunny and gettin’ me all worked up and pretty soon I would have walked through Hell for that man. He’s a handsome one for sure and very persuasive.
“Mary,” He says, handin’ me a brass vial. “In here is a drug that will put the Sehzade, that’s the Prince who has bought Lady Barbara, to sleep. All you need to do is sneak it into the Palace and slip it into his drink. Then you and Barbara fuck him and he’ll pass out. You call for a doctor and in the commotion, you escape.”
“Sneak it in?” I asks. “How?”
“Hide it in every woman’s most secret place,” he says droppin’ ‘is hand to me pussy and shovin’ it inside. It went in nice and easy, with how wet I was from fuckin’ him and all.
The plan sounds simple, right? My arse! I gets to the palace and asks for some guy named Beshir Agha, just like Karim told me. Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather, when some black man in a weird costume appeared and ordered me to follow him into some kind of fancy cathouse place with girls in various states of undress loungin’ around.
One of them speaks some English and she translates what the Negro is ordering me to do. “He says you take off clothes.”
“Why?” I asked. “I’m here to see Prince Sebad.”
“That’s Sehzade,” she corrected me, “And you do what Agha says, or trouble.”
Well I didn’t want none of that, so I takes me clothes off. One of the girls brings me a fancy set of clothes, all shiny silk and such, pants with big legs and a low cut shirt. Before I can put them on, this Beshir grabs me pussy. Just like that!
So I squeal and try to slap his hand away. “No worry,” the girl says, “He eunuch.”
“I don’t care what church he goes to, I don’t want his hands on me privates,” I tells her.
“No church,” she tells me. “Snip, snip,” she says and she points to her crotch. OK, I see, I guess that means he won’t fuck me, but still I don’t like him stickin’ his fingers up inside me. Especially when they comes out holdin’ Karim’s brass vial. Shit!
Beshir shouts somethin’ and two big guys come and grab me and drag me out of there and down a long stone staircase into a room all got up like a dungeon, with stone walls holdin’ torches and all kinds of furniture you won’t enjoy sitting on. They throw me onto me back on the stone floor, which is damn cold and hard and lift me legs up, lockin’ me ankles in some kind of stocks.
They left me alone long enough so I could have a bit of a look round. There was a low moanin’ sound and it took me a minute to figure out where it was coming from. But, cranin’ me head, I saw a girl, near me own age, a blonde, nice looking, hangin’ naked from the ceiling, her arms up over her head, her wrists held in iron manacles, her toes reachin’ out for the floor but fallin’ short by a few inches.
“Hello,” I says, “You speak English?”
“A leetle,” she replies, moanin’.
“I’m Mary,” I says. “And you?”
“Marie.” I’m pretty sure that’s French for Mary, so we’re two peas in a pod. And not a very nice pod, either.
“’How did you get yourself here?” I asks her.
“I was on a ship and these pirates took us and they sell me to a Turk.” Where have I heard that one before? “I am now slave of Kemal Agha, Captain of the Janissaries. He give me to two officers for the last night and one want to put his thing up, you know in the back, how you say in English?”
“Your arse?”
“Yes, in my arse. It is too tight and I cannot, so they put me here. They will whip me I think. What about you?”
I was about to give her me own tale of woe when a bloody commotion started up comin’ down the stairs. A woman screamin’, “Get your filthy paws off of me, you animals. I am an English Lady and concubine of the Sehzade himself. How dare you?” Now that was a voice I couldn’t mistake-it were the Lady Barbara herself, accompanied by two very large men who each had a hold of an arm.
She were dressed in a fancy costume like they were wantin’ to put me in before that black goon searched me, but the two brutes had her out of it in no time and threw her on the floor and trussed her ankles in the set of stocks right next to mine. Well who was the Lady and who was the maid now, eh?
I thought we might have a bit of time to get caught up, but them Turks had other ideas. Each of them two big muckers picks up a wicked lookin’ stick and starts whippin’ it through the air, makin’ a frightful sound that sent chills down me spine. One stood in front of me and one stood in front of Lady Barbara, each starin’ at our bare feet, which were raised in the stocks to about the level of the men’s waists. “Yirmi!” one of them says. “Yirmi!” repeats the other one. I didn’t know what that was (I later found out it was Turkish for twenty) but I knew it weren’t good.
And, by Jesus, I were right. Each one drew the whippy cane back and slashed it hard as he could against our helpless soles. God, it felt like walkin’ on hot coals. I screamed. The Lady Barbara screamed. They hit again. Pure agony. I twisted me legs madly tryin’ anythin’ to get me feet out of the way of the horrible cane, but the stocks held them solid like.
They kept hittin’ us, each one hurtin’ more than the last. I screamed meself hoarse and I’m sure Lady Barbara did the same. Tears was flowin’ down me cheeks. I turned to look at Lady Barbara and saw she were in the same way. Not able to do anythin’ else to help our situation, I reached me hand out towards her. She reached hers out and took mine, clenchin’ it like it were a lifeboat in a storm.
By this point I had lost count. I was sobbin’ and moanin’ with every stroke and so was the Lady Barbara, beggin’ them to stop, though it didn’t have no effect on the goons, who just kept whippin’ our poor feet. I can’t say if they gave us the full yirmi, but I reckon like they did. Why wouldn’t they after all? We were but helpless slave girls, to be punished or fucked as the Masters decided.
But finally, they stopped, leavin’ me poor feet a mess of agony. I couldn’t see them, but I was sure they were full of cuts and bruises.
By promet_he_us on DeviantArtI hoped that were the end of it, but I feared it weren’t. For, just then, I heard voices comin’ down the stairs. A moment later, they came into view, two men dressed in fine silks. They were obviously very important, as the two goons bowed deeply and said somethin' to them in a very respectful tone of voice, like I used with His Lordship before takin’ his cock in me mouth. I could see Lady Barbara glarin’ at one of them, about to say somethin’ through her tears that maybe she oughtn’t to.
Was this the famous Sehzade and Captain Kemal Agha? I feared I were about to find out.
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windar
Teller of Tales
It beats serving tea and crumpets to Lady Barbara and her friends at their whist parties and servicing Lord Cruxton on the side. I don't even know what crumpets and whist are, but they mention them on those BBC shows on PBS.Pirates, slave markets, eunuchs, stocks, sole whipping,....
You see, Mary, traveling is always a learning experience!
Good chapter, Windar!
It beats serving tea and crumpets to Lady Barbara and her friends at their whist parties and servicing Lord Cruxton on the side. I don't even know what crumpets and whist are, but they mention them on those BBC shows on PBS.
Goldman watches PBS???? Amazing! Will wonders ever cease?
Not just the voice, either, the complaining is unmistakable!
Not just the voice, either, the complaining is unmistakable!
I never complain! I rebel!!!
Still unmistakableI never complain! I rebel!!!
windar
Teller of Tales
I never complain! I rebel!!!
Now you're pissing on my leg and telling me it's raining, Moore.
Well that sounds promising.
She has to be happy about that. They do say that sex scenes are tricky. I think you nailed this one (so to speak
). Hot! 
He's a bit too clever by half if he's planning to have Mary help rescue Barbara under the guise of setting up a trade deal with the prince. He'd do better to stik with his slave sales, or he might end up as a clever and dead brigand.
You know, the Prince won't have any trouble making the connection to Karim, and the rest of the story is easy to figure out. Karim wants Barb back. He said so himself. Barbara, on the other hand, is an innocent English lady, and a slave. She has no power, and clearly enjoyed her time with the Prince. Now this little spy wench is sent in, but likely is no more dangerous than Barb. The Prince could keep both. He paid a lot for Barb. A little discipline, just to make sure they're content where they are, is fine, but i don't think he wants to destroy them.
Karim is in big trouble here. The Prince will see that he's been betrayed by the pirate, and the girls are just pawns.
When you find a man scheming to steal your gold, you don't destroy your gold.
Or, perhaps I have misjudged the Sehzade and he is not as smart as he looks.
Barb innocent?!?!?!... Surely you jest!!!You know, the Prince won't have any trouble making the connection to Karim, and the rest of the story is easy to figure out. Karim wants Barb back. He said so himself. Barbara, on the other hand, is an innocent English lady, and a slave. She has no power, and clearly enjoyed her time with the Prince. Now this little spy wench is sent in, but likely is no more dangerous than Barb. The Prince could keep both. He paid a lot for Barb. A little discipline, just to make sure they're content where they are, is fine, but i don't think he wants to destroy them.
Karim is in big trouble here. The Prince will see that he's been betrayed by the pirate, and the girls are just pawns.
When you find a man scheming to steal your gold, you don't destroy your gold.
Tree
...and don't call me 'Shirley'...
Not innocent as in "didn't do anything. " She is innocent in the sense of "inexperienced and no good at plotting" in this story. CF must be the only place in the world where "innocent" is a dirty word.
windar
Teller of Tales
What makes him seem that smart? He was lucky to have been born the son of the previous Sultan or else he'd be flipping shish kebabs in the bazaar. He overpaid for Barb. That doesn't make him Einstein. One thing you can count on with the Ottomans is court intrigue. No one is really safe in that crowd.
Yeah, Barb innocent that's a stretch
.
What makes him seem that smart? He was lucky to have been born the son of the previous Sultan or else he'd be flipping shish kebabs in the bazaar. He overpaid for Barb. That doesn't make him Einstein. One thing you can count on with the Ottomans is court intrigue. No one is really safe in that crowd.
Yeah, Barb innocent that's a stretch
Whaddya mean he overpaid for me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am worth every whatever those Ottoman's used for cash!
Not innocent as in "didn't do anything. " She is innocent in the sense of "inexperienced and no good at plotting" in this story. CF must be the only place in the world where "innocent" is a dirty word.
You underestimate me. I am usually scheming to do something. Not my fault it doesn't usually work out. Which, btw, is proof as to why I could not have caused the Great Crash of 2013.
Tell 'em Barb!!!Whaddya mean he overpaid for me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am worth every whatever those Ottoman's used for cash!
21. Evening, 10 July 1803. Topkapi Palace. Lady Barbara.
“Oh, what would father say if he could see me now?” I said to myself as I stretched languidly on the Sehzade’s bed. As I lay there waiting for the my lover to appear for our nightly romp, I imagined my father, the Duke, stressing himself out, all red-face and huffy, over how his eldest daughter’s shockingly sordid carrying-ones with some Ottoman prince were upsetting his plans to marry her off into some kind of amazingly advantageous and grand aristocratic alliance. Oh the shock of it. Deflowered! And by an infidel, no less! What will the local Deacon have to say about that? Oh, dear ... the shame of it!
But I hardly cared. I was having a grand time. The Sehzade was an absolute wonder in bed. Just think of all those years wasted protecting my chastity! If only I knew then what I know now! I could have and should have done it with young Thomas! But then again, I wonder if any Englishman could match the amazing sexual prowess of my young Turk!
Life was good. I’d only been a member of the Sehzade’s harem for a few days, but I was clearly his favorite flavor. He obviously relished the fact that I was of the English upper class. I was honored and given privileges, and always chosen to be his nightly companion. It wasn’t hard to tell that most of the other girls in the harem regarded me with resentment or envy.
So, I was feeling very relaxed. Happily I sipped at the cup of aphrodisiac tea that Beshir Agha had brought around earlier. As if I needed it! Just the sight of the Sehzade was all I needed! I knew he’d be coming soon, bursting eagerly through those double doors, so I arranged myself on the bed in what I believed to be an absolutely provocative pose ... with my silky gown artfully arranged on my body to reveal just enough to draw his attention and with one leg slightly bent and bared all the way to the top of my hip.
Moments later, it happened just as I anticipated. He burst through the doors, took one look at me, grinned broadly, hastily stripped off his clothes, and joined me on the bed. Without a word, he began kissing me passionately, first on my mouth, then on my neck, ear and down my chest, deftly spreading my gown open with one hand as his hot kisses progressed steadily down my sternum. Then he did that thing to my breasts with his mouth and tongue that never failed to melt me down and make me mad with desire!
I reached out and pulled him on top of me, spreading my legs and firmly guiding his rigid shaft into position. I was so wet and ready that he slid into me like a knife through warm butter. I squealed with delight, grabbed his buttocks with both hands and pulled him in deep. As he began moving in and out, my hands wandered up and down his broad muscular back. The tempo increased and I began bucking my hips in unison with his thrusts, moaning and gasping, speeding myself towards that desired high moment of frenzied ecstasy. I was coming so fast! I threw my head back and locked my ankles behind his knees. A scream was rising in my throat!
And then the doors to the bed chamber burst open. Beshir Agha came charging in calling his master’s name and excitedly shouting about something in Turkish. The Sezhade stopped in mid-stroke, abruptly pulled himself out and cast me rudely aside. He lept to his feet and engaged Beshir Agha in a heated conversation, during which both men repeatedly cast hurried scornful glances my way. Then the conversation ceased abruptly.
“Get dressed!” snarled the Sehzade, stooping to gather my gown and throwing it at me.
Beshir Agfa retreated hastily from the room.
“Why? What’s wrong?” I cried imploringly, eyes searching his face for some clue as I slipped my gown over my shoulders and pulled the gauzy fabric around me.
“I’ve been such a fool,” he muttered darkly as he rebuffed my outstretched hand.
The doors burst open again. Beshir Agha had returned .. this time with a pair of big eunuchs, who advanced on me and seized me by the arms.
“What’s going on?” I cried, tears welling in my eyes. “What have I done?”
“Quiet!” Beshir Agha shouted, as they led me away.
I was half-dragged, half-walked down the Palace’s long corridor, and then down the narrow staircase that I suddenly recalled led to the dungeon and torture chamber that Beshir Agha had shown me on the day of my arrival. I began to resist.
“Get your filthy paws off of me, you animals. I am an English Lady and concubine of the Sehzade himself. How dare you?” I screamed as I tried desperately to break free of their grasp.
But before I knew it they had thrown me to the floor, stripped me naked, dragged me half way across the chamber, thrown me down on my back and locked my ankles in a wooden stock. And much to my surprise and horror, there lay my maid servant, Mary, naked and locked in the same stock alongside me!
This was all happening so fast. So many questions! I could barely think. What in the world was Mary doing there? Was that what had enraged the Sehzade? But why? What had she done? What had she said? Where was Karim? I thought she was with him? And who is that poor naked fair-haired girl hanging arms over head from the dungeon ceiling?
I was about to say something to Mary who was looking at me doe-eyed, like she always does, when my attention was diverted to the two eunuchs, who had taken up a position ... one in front of each of us ... and were brandishing long rod-like sticks and swishing them through the air.
“Yirmi!” one of them said. “Yirmi!” repeated the other other. Beshir Agha had taken the time one morning to teach me how to count in Turkish, so I knew instantly what the word meant: “twenty”!
Nothing I had ever experienced was as painful as taking twenty strokes with a rod on the soles of my bare feet! I had no idea how sensitive to pain one’s feet could be. It was terrible! I have never screamed so loud. Mary and I together put up quite a howl and our cries of anguish just seemed to spur the eunuchs on to strike even harder. Inbetween screams and sobs I tried begging them to stop, but to no avail. In the end, Mary and I just reached out to one another and tightly held hands until it was over. I was sure that I would never walk again!
No sooner had it stopped than I heard, over Mary’s wailing, the sound of boots descending the stairs. It was the Sehzade followed dutifully by the ever present, Beshir Agha. I also noted the presence of an officer in the chamber, a high ranking Janissary judging by his attire and demeanor. His attention was focused on the fair-haired girl hanging from the ceiling.
"Where did she come from?' I gasped to Mary
“She’s French.” replied Mary, nodding between sobs in the girl’s direction and adding, " 'er name's Marie. Sez she's from some place called Anjou."
"What did she do?" I asked, focusing my teary eyes first on the Janissary officer and then on the eunuchs, one of which was stoking a brazier holding an array of glowing irons while the other was experimentally cracking a long whip against a nearby pillar.
“Captured, she was, and sold by pirates, just as we was, milady. They meaning to whip 'er now, 'cause she refused them, she did. Told me so 'erself."
While we watched, the eunuch with the whip began slowly to circle the dangling French girl. She twisted around, stretching her legs to push off with her toes, watching him, eyes wide with fear. The eunuch smiled serenely, then struck out viciously, catching her directly across her bare upturned breasts. The poor thing let out a yelp, and twisted away, only to receive a slicing cut across her buttocks. Lifting her feet high off the floor, she spun backwards and he raked her tummy and then her lower back with two swift lashes.
"Lawdy!" exclaimed Mary, "she's done in for it now!"
The flogging of the French harem girl, known as Marie, continued, her pitiful screams and sobs echoing off the chamber's vaulted stone ceiling. Meanwhile, another pair of eunuchs had appeared. The Sehzade appeared to be giving Beshir Agha a fresh set of instructions, which were immediately relayed to the newly arrived eunuchs. They strode over, released Mary and me from the stocks, picked us up as though we weighed nothing, and carried us over to a huge wooden rack ... a rack so large that it could accommodate us both!
"Stop!" What do you think you are doing!" I protested, as I was thrown on my back, my wrists and ankles clamped swiftly into rusty irons.
Mary was tossed down beside me, and similarly trussed. We were stretched out so close together on the rack that our hips touched.
One of the eunuchs sprang to the large wheel at the end of the rack, and began to turn it. The chains leading to our wrists, clanked and then groaned as they wound around a drum. The slack between the drum and our wrists was quickly taken up. The irons bit into our flesh, especially painfully at the ankles, as we were stretched until our bodies were taut.
The Sehzade was at my side leaning over us, holding a small object that looked to be some kind of vial in his fingers.
"I have been betrayed," he announced, eyes flashing, face red with anger. "It's that Barbary pirate, isn't it? All three of you were in on it, weren't you? A plot to have me killed, with a beautiful virgin English lady as the bait. But it had to be more than that. Someone else was behind it. That pirate, Karim, has to be working with someone. I suspected my brother, the Sultan, of course. But I spoke with him and he swears to Allah it was not him, and for once I believe him. Now talk. I want the truth! You two infidel whores will now tell me all you know, or else!"
As if to drive home his point, he nodded to the eunuch standing ready beside the brazier. The eunuch took a hot iron in his hand, waved the eunuch with the whip aside and pressed the glowing tip against one of the poor French girl's thighs. She screamed. He did it again, drawing it slowly across her ribs. The smell of burning flesh filled the chamber.
The Sehzade looked to us. Neither of us said a thing ... too dumbfounded and frightened to speak.
He nodded to the eunuch who produced a pair of long brightly glowing needles. The French girl began to blubber as he approached her with them. Reaching out, he took hold of one of her breasts, squeezed it in one hand and slowly drove one of the hot needles through her tumescent nipple with the other. Her screams turned to shrieks as he repeated this maneuver with her other breast. She fainted before the needle was through.
"Talk!" screamed the Sehzade in my face!
"I know nothing of th...th....this so-called plot," I stammered, having found my voice at last. "I didn't even know my maid, Mary, was here ... at Topkapi. You surely must have known that, right? You are the Prince! I am so confused, my dear Sezhade! And I know nothing of that vial, where it might have come from, or of any attempt on your life. You know better, surely. Think of the nights we have shared, my dear Sehzade! Surely you don't think ... "
I was cut short by the clanking of the chains, the knocking of ratchets, and the creak of the wheel and drum above my head, and then by the sharp pain of my arms being pulled nearly from their sockets. My hips and knees ached. I was stretched to the limit. My head was jerked forward by the hair, so I could see down the length of my naked sweat-sheened body, chest rising and falling, thigh muscles straining.
"Gawd, it hurts! Make em stop, Milady," bawled Mary in my ear.
"Tell him what he wants to know, Mary!" I hissed. "Who put you up to this, and why?"
The wheel turned again. Mary and I both screamed. I felt what I thought were muscles and sinews tearing.
Two eunuchs appeared near our feet, each holding an iron rod with an orangish-red glowing tip, which they lowered until the hot tips were between our open legs ... moving slowly, inexorably up between our thighs. I could feel the heat searing my flesh. I began to shake uncontrollably.
"Oh, milady ... Gawd ... Noooooo" cried Mary.
The glowing tips moved ever closer.
"Tell him! For God's sake tell him!" I screamed at her.
“Oh, what would father say if he could see me now?” I said to myself as I stretched languidly on the Sehzade’s bed. As I lay there waiting for the my lover to appear for our nightly romp, I imagined my father, the Duke, stressing himself out, all red-face and huffy, over how his eldest daughter’s shockingly sordid carrying-ones with some Ottoman prince were upsetting his plans to marry her off into some kind of amazingly advantageous and grand aristocratic alliance. Oh the shock of it. Deflowered! And by an infidel, no less! What will the local Deacon have to say about that? Oh, dear ... the shame of it!
But I hardly cared. I was having a grand time. The Sehzade was an absolute wonder in bed. Just think of all those years wasted protecting my chastity! If only I knew then what I know now! I could have and should have done it with young Thomas! But then again, I wonder if any Englishman could match the amazing sexual prowess of my young Turk!
Life was good. I’d only been a member of the Sehzade’s harem for a few days, but I was clearly his favorite flavor. He obviously relished the fact that I was of the English upper class. I was honored and given privileges, and always chosen to be his nightly companion. It wasn’t hard to tell that most of the other girls in the harem regarded me with resentment or envy.
So, I was feeling very relaxed. Happily I sipped at the cup of aphrodisiac tea that Beshir Agha had brought around earlier. As if I needed it! Just the sight of the Sehzade was all I needed! I knew he’d be coming soon, bursting eagerly through those double doors, so I arranged myself on the bed in what I believed to be an absolutely provocative pose ... with my silky gown artfully arranged on my body to reveal just enough to draw his attention and with one leg slightly bent and bared all the way to the top of my hip.
Moments later, it happened just as I anticipated. He burst through the doors, took one look at me, grinned broadly, hastily stripped off his clothes, and joined me on the bed. Without a word, he began kissing me passionately, first on my mouth, then on my neck, ear and down my chest, deftly spreading my gown open with one hand as his hot kisses progressed steadily down my sternum. Then he did that thing to my breasts with his mouth and tongue that never failed to melt me down and make me mad with desire!
I reached out and pulled him on top of me, spreading my legs and firmly guiding his rigid shaft into position. I was so wet and ready that he slid into me like a knife through warm butter. I squealed with delight, grabbed his buttocks with both hands and pulled him in deep. As he began moving in and out, my hands wandered up and down his broad muscular back. The tempo increased and I began bucking my hips in unison with his thrusts, moaning and gasping, speeding myself towards that desired high moment of frenzied ecstasy. I was coming so fast! I threw my head back and locked my ankles behind his knees. A scream was rising in my throat!
And then the doors to the bed chamber burst open. Beshir Agha came charging in calling his master’s name and excitedly shouting about something in Turkish. The Sezhade stopped in mid-stroke, abruptly pulled himself out and cast me rudely aside. He lept to his feet and engaged Beshir Agha in a heated conversation, during which both men repeatedly cast hurried scornful glances my way. Then the conversation ceased abruptly.
“Get dressed!” snarled the Sehzade, stooping to gather my gown and throwing it at me.
Beshir Agfa retreated hastily from the room.
“Why? What’s wrong?” I cried imploringly, eyes searching his face for some clue as I slipped my gown over my shoulders and pulled the gauzy fabric around me.
“I’ve been such a fool,” he muttered darkly as he rebuffed my outstretched hand.
The doors burst open again. Beshir Agha had returned .. this time with a pair of big eunuchs, who advanced on me and seized me by the arms.
“What’s going on?” I cried, tears welling in my eyes. “What have I done?”
“Quiet!” Beshir Agha shouted, as they led me away.
I was half-dragged, half-walked down the Palace’s long corridor, and then down the narrow staircase that I suddenly recalled led to the dungeon and torture chamber that Beshir Agha had shown me on the day of my arrival. I began to resist.
“Get your filthy paws off of me, you animals. I am an English Lady and concubine of the Sehzade himself. How dare you?” I screamed as I tried desperately to break free of their grasp.
But before I knew it they had thrown me to the floor, stripped me naked, dragged me half way across the chamber, thrown me down on my back and locked my ankles in a wooden stock. And much to my surprise and horror, there lay my maid servant, Mary, naked and locked in the same stock alongside me!
This was all happening so fast. So many questions! I could barely think. What in the world was Mary doing there? Was that what had enraged the Sehzade? But why? What had she done? What had she said? Where was Karim? I thought she was with him? And who is that poor naked fair-haired girl hanging arms over head from the dungeon ceiling?
I was about to say something to Mary who was looking at me doe-eyed, like she always does, when my attention was diverted to the two eunuchs, who had taken up a position ... one in front of each of us ... and were brandishing long rod-like sticks and swishing them through the air.
“Yirmi!” one of them said. “Yirmi!” repeated the other other. Beshir Agha had taken the time one morning to teach me how to count in Turkish, so I knew instantly what the word meant: “twenty”!
Nothing I had ever experienced was as painful as taking twenty strokes with a rod on the soles of my bare feet! I had no idea how sensitive to pain one’s feet could be. It was terrible! I have never screamed so loud. Mary and I together put up quite a howl and our cries of anguish just seemed to spur the eunuchs on to strike even harder. Inbetween screams and sobs I tried begging them to stop, but to no avail. In the end, Mary and I just reached out to one another and tightly held hands until it was over. I was sure that I would never walk again!
No sooner had it stopped than I heard, over Mary’s wailing, the sound of boots descending the stairs. It was the Sehzade followed dutifully by the ever present, Beshir Agha. I also noted the presence of an officer in the chamber, a high ranking Janissary judging by his attire and demeanor. His attention was focused on the fair-haired girl hanging from the ceiling.
"Where did she come from?' I gasped to Mary
“She’s French.” replied Mary, nodding between sobs in the girl’s direction and adding, " 'er name's Marie. Sez she's from some place called Anjou."
"What did she do?" I asked, focusing my teary eyes first on the Janissary officer and then on the eunuchs, one of which was stoking a brazier holding an array of glowing irons while the other was experimentally cracking a long whip against a nearby pillar.
“Captured, she was, and sold by pirates, just as we was, milady. They meaning to whip 'er now, 'cause she refused them, she did. Told me so 'erself."
While we watched, the eunuch with the whip began slowly to circle the dangling French girl. She twisted around, stretching her legs to push off with her toes, watching him, eyes wide with fear. The eunuch smiled serenely, then struck out viciously, catching her directly across her bare upturned breasts. The poor thing let out a yelp, and twisted away, only to receive a slicing cut across her buttocks. Lifting her feet high off the floor, she spun backwards and he raked her tummy and then her lower back with two swift lashes.
"Lawdy!" exclaimed Mary, "she's done in for it now!"
The flogging of the French harem girl, known as Marie, continued, her pitiful screams and sobs echoing off the chamber's vaulted stone ceiling. Meanwhile, another pair of eunuchs had appeared. The Sehzade appeared to be giving Beshir Agha a fresh set of instructions, which were immediately relayed to the newly arrived eunuchs. They strode over, released Mary and me from the stocks, picked us up as though we weighed nothing, and carried us over to a huge wooden rack ... a rack so large that it could accommodate us both!
"Stop!" What do you think you are doing!" I protested, as I was thrown on my back, my wrists and ankles clamped swiftly into rusty irons.
Mary was tossed down beside me, and similarly trussed. We were stretched out so close together on the rack that our hips touched.
One of the eunuchs sprang to the large wheel at the end of the rack, and began to turn it. The chains leading to our wrists, clanked and then groaned as they wound around a drum. The slack between the drum and our wrists was quickly taken up. The irons bit into our flesh, especially painfully at the ankles, as we were stretched until our bodies were taut.
The Sehzade was at my side leaning over us, holding a small object that looked to be some kind of vial in his fingers.
"I have been betrayed," he announced, eyes flashing, face red with anger. "It's that Barbary pirate, isn't it? All three of you were in on it, weren't you? A plot to have me killed, with a beautiful virgin English lady as the bait. But it had to be more than that. Someone else was behind it. That pirate, Karim, has to be working with someone. I suspected my brother, the Sultan, of course. But I spoke with him and he swears to Allah it was not him, and for once I believe him. Now talk. I want the truth! You two infidel whores will now tell me all you know, or else!"
As if to drive home his point, he nodded to the eunuch standing ready beside the brazier. The eunuch took a hot iron in his hand, waved the eunuch with the whip aside and pressed the glowing tip against one of the poor French girl's thighs. She screamed. He did it again, drawing it slowly across her ribs. The smell of burning flesh filled the chamber.
The Sehzade looked to us. Neither of us said a thing ... too dumbfounded and frightened to speak.
He nodded to the eunuch who produced a pair of long brightly glowing needles. The French girl began to blubber as he approached her with them. Reaching out, he took hold of one of her breasts, squeezed it in one hand and slowly drove one of the hot needles through her tumescent nipple with the other. Her screams turned to shrieks as he repeated this maneuver with her other breast. She fainted before the needle was through.
"Talk!" screamed the Sehzade in my face!
"I know nothing of th...th....this so-called plot," I stammered, having found my voice at last. "I didn't even know my maid, Mary, was here ... at Topkapi. You surely must have known that, right? You are the Prince! I am so confused, my dear Sezhade! And I know nothing of that vial, where it might have come from, or of any attempt on your life. You know better, surely. Think of the nights we have shared, my dear Sehzade! Surely you don't think ... "
I was cut short by the clanking of the chains, the knocking of ratchets, and the creak of the wheel and drum above my head, and then by the sharp pain of my arms being pulled nearly from their sockets. My hips and knees ached. I was stretched to the limit. My head was jerked forward by the hair, so I could see down the length of my naked sweat-sheened body, chest rising and falling, thigh muscles straining.
"Gawd, it hurts! Make em stop, Milady," bawled Mary in my ear.
"Tell him what he wants to know, Mary!" I hissed. "Who put you up to this, and why?"
The wheel turned again. Mary and I both screamed. I felt what I thought were muscles and sinews tearing.
Two eunuchs appeared near our feet, each holding an iron rod with an orangish-red glowing tip, which they lowered until the hot tips were between our open legs ... moving slowly, inexorably up between our thighs. I could feel the heat searing my flesh. I began to shake uncontrollably.
"Oh, milady ... Gawd ... Noooooo" cried Mary.
The glowing tips moved ever closer.
"Tell him! For God's sake tell him!" I screamed at her.
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