Lord Melchior (2 page)

"When was the last time you saw a woman, Zaccheus?"

"I? Not since they took me to the boarding school, sir."

"You find this girl very pretty, don't you, Zaccheus?"

"Sir?"

I didn't know what he wanted me to say. I didn't even know what I was feeling. My insides felt all ... soft. And ... flippy. I couldn't help how that girl made me feel, but I knew it was wrong. Whatever it was I was feeling, I knew I wasn't supposed to feel that way. The master smiled that strange, startling smile again, then he reached over and put his hand on my ... he pressed his palm on my groin. It was only for a moment, and satisfied with what he felt there he rested his hand on the arm of his chair once more.

"Yes, she is a pretty thing. I'll tell you what, Zaccheus. Since this is a special evening, I give you permission to let your eyes roam where they will. You may look upon me, or little Rasha there, or whatever you've a mind to look at. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"It was easier to understand the suspension of the rule than to act on it. I forced my eyes to go on meeting his until he looked away. Then my gaze went along with his, over to the frightened girl standing before him.

"Rasha, is it?"

"Yes, sir.” She was obviously trying not to cry. Maybe she knew better than I what was in store for her.

"Today is your first day in the house? Away from the school?"

"Yes, sir."

"It must be strange for you, to be here among so many men."

She didn't answer him. Her chest was heaving violently. There was a long silence and, growing used to my freedom, I chanced a glance down at the master. His arms were still resting easily on the supports of the chair, his eyes were locked on the pale face of the girl in front of him, and he wore a smile of perhaps the purest enjoyment I've ever seen.

"Neron."

The master had not taken his eyes from the girl, nor had he raised his voice above its usual soft, caressing tone. One of the guards stepped forward from the shadowy perimeter of the salon and came to a stop just behind the girl. She stiffened noticeably as she heard his steps draw near.

"Remove her vest."

I was awestruck. How could he have his soldier remove her vest? It is forbidden. Even after marriage, a woman is not to allow any man but her husband see her unvested.

"But sir!” she cried before she caught herself and caught her lips between her teeth. The guard, Neron, had taken hold of the back of her garment and was setting to work on the heavy clasps. The master raised his palm and Neron dropped his hands to his sides.

"That's alright, Rasha,” the master said, pardoning her insolence at speaking uninvited and daring, even for a forgetful moment, to defy his will. “Finish what you were going to say."

Her chest heaved and her soft, full lips trembled as she seemed to glimpse a tiny hope in the master's indulgence.

"S-sir.” The tears that had risen in her expressive eyes finally spilled onto her cheeks. “Sir, I—I am just a maid. A servant. I—I am not supposed to—They told me I mustn't—that only the concubines were made to..."

She could not finish her sentence, though the master looked as though he could delight in her torment for an eternity as she sought the words she had been schooled all her life to never use. He smiled indulgently.

"You've been taught that you must never let a man see your body?"

"Y-yes sir."

"And what, Rasha, have you been taught is your very highest duty?"

"To obey you, sir."

"And so, if I wish to see your body? What then, Rasha?"

"Then I must ... I must ... let you."

"Very good, Rasha. Now Neron is going to remove your vest."

With that Neron stepped near her again and I saw the vest falling loose from her chest as he undid the clasps at her back that had held the garment tight. Rasha stood there, shaking, seemingly trying to staunch her tears as the last clasp was undone and Neron raised his hands to her shoulders and slid the vest down her arms and over the fists clenched at her sides. My prick lurched and stiffened again at the sight of the two round mounds of flesh lifting her blouse away from her body.

"Now, Rasha, remove your blouse."

Rasha's hands fluttered up the to top button of her loose garment, and she shakily began working the tiny circles of shell through the little button holes. When the blouse was open all down the front she looked to the master and he gave her a nod. She pulled the garment from her shoulders and slipped it down her arms, and stood before us now only in a tiny, sheer article which clung to her body and through which the dark tips of those full mounds of flesh were perfectly apparent. My prick was throbbing painfully and I wished I could go somewhere for a few moments and dispel the ache. I glanced at the master and saw his gratified smile.

"Now, Rasha, tell me. Did the head maid see to it that you were shaved between your thighs?"

Poor Rasha, already pink and trembling and struggling not to let her tears get the better of her again went a fresh and deeper red.

"Yes, sir,” she whispered. Her eyes repeatedly tried to evade his, and over and over she had to force her gaze back to its proper place.

"Lift your skirt and show me."

I feared for a moment that she would faint. She seemed unsteady as she clutched a handful of white fabric in her hand and inched it up, then caught another handful in her other hand, and in pathetic little clawing motions dragged the hem of her skirt higher and higher up her legs. Oh, they were beautiful, her legs! Their shape so different from the shape of men's legs, and so smooth, I could hardly detect the fine hair on them, and they seemed to gleam in the dim light of the salon. And then what a wondrous shock to see the that mysterious part of her that was so completely different from men—I don't even have a word for it. Her little place that looked so soft made me terribly hard. I was nearly in pain.

"What a sweet little cunt you've got, Rasha. Neron, kindly check and see how carefully she's been shaved."

Neron stepped in front of her, then dropped to his knees. She started and gasped aloud, but did not jump back, though clearly she wanted to. Kneeling at her feet Neron ran his hands up the backs of her thighs until they disappeared under the gathers of white fabric behind, and pressed his face to that strange, soft, pale place. She let out an odd little cry, and for a moment I thought he had hurt her, but when I looked closely, leaning a bit to the left so I could see around the back of Neron's head, I saw that he was licking her. His mouth open, he thrust his long pink tongue into the shadows where her thighs pressed together, and drew it slowly out until I saw the pointed tip of it, and he ran it up her delicate little crease.

"Well, Neron?” the Master inquired.

"Smooth as a peach, sir."

"Good. Get up Neron. Fetch that little stool there and bring it here, to the foot of my chair."

Neron did the master's bidding, and set the little foot stool down against the front of the great arm chair, right between the master's feet.

"Now have a seat, Neron."

The guard sat, the master's knees parted wide to accommodate those vast shoulders.

"Andreas. Imaran."

Two other guards came forward, flanking the stunned girl.

"Rasha, my darling, let them hold your skirt up for you, and put your arms around their shoulders."

Each man on either side of her grabbed a handful of white cotton, and poor Rasha did as she had been told, and draped her arms over their shoulders. In unison they bent forward and scooped her up, sweeping her knees forward and lifting her in their thickly muscled arms. They had done this before, or it had all been choreographed in advance, for they moved smoothly in concert, bringing her forward toward the master and Neron.

"Put your feet here, Rasha,” the master said, tapping the knobby ends of the arm rests with his two index fingers.

She was breathing fast and hard as she obeyed his command, perching her pretty pale feet on the carved mahogany, though she kept her knees pressed close together. The hem of her skirt had slipped down, covering her legs, and Neron now took hold of the garment and pushed it back up, tucking the loose gathers up at her waist so her long thighs and even her hips were exposed.

"I want to see your lovely cunt again, Rasha. Spread your legs for me."

Whether she obeyed or whether the guards supporting her pulled her knees apart, I don't know, but her thighs hinged open and that fabulous mystery was bared once more—to me, to the master, to Neron.

"Taste her again, Neron, and this time, open those sweet, pale lips with your tongue. I want to see more of her."

Neron leaned forward, and as the master and I looked on, pressed his open mouth to her. A violent tremor rippled over her body and her knees seemed to be trying to press closed, but the men cradling her kept them wrenched open as Neron's mouth worked between her thighs. The master's hand went to the guard's shoulder and he leaned back a little, giving a clear view of her ... cunt, as the master called it.

It had changed, opened under Neron's mouth the way a flower opens to the sun, the full, pale outer lips parting to reveal flesh of the deepest pink, delicate and glistening and absolutely beautiful.

"What a delicious sight,” the master growled, his eyes bright but his lids heavy. “Now, Neron, lick that juicy little pussy until she cries out with pleasure."

A grin flashed over Neron's mouth before it disappeared between her cream-colored thighs. He swiped his tongue over those moist pink folds, burrowing into the delicate creases, closing his lips over the tiny pink nub at the top of her slit and her full hips squirmed and shuddered under him. Neron's arms flexed, pulling her against his mouth, his jaw opened, and he seemed to be thrusting that long tongue of his somewhere deep in her and the sound of her sucking her breath in hard rasped into the room.

"I want to hear you, Rasha. Don't try to hide your pleasure from me. Don't stifle those moans that want to burst out of your throat. I want to hear your gorgeous cries as he licks that creamy slit of yours."

Neron slurped his tongue back and forth along her slit then nursed on the little nub again, making sweet Rasha's hips buck violently and forcing a shy little moan from her parted lips.

"Good girl, Rasha. Now, Neron, finger that pussy while you eat her."

One of Neron's huge hands left her backside and came forward, hovering beneath her, one index finger pointed skyward, and as his jaw worked over her pink folds he slowly pushed that finger up and it gradually disappeared inside of her. A loud, startling, “Huh! Huh! Huh! whimpered into the air as her cunt accepted Neron's thick finger. He was moaning into her as he licked and sucked and fingered her, seeming to love the taste of her and the feel of her under his lips and tongue. Sometimes he slurped his tongue over her in a long, slow stroke. Other times he put just the very tip of his tongue to that little swollen nub now protruding from her pale lips and flicked it so fast is was only a blur to the eye, and all the while his finger pumped in and out of her. Her moans were getting louder, more anxious in pitch. Rasha's mouth was open with panting breaths and moans and a little furrow had appeared between her fine eyebrows. Little squelching noises were coming from where Neron's hand was working beneath her, pumping faster and harder as his tongue lapped thirstily at her. Suddenly a terrible tremor ran through Rasha's entire body, her hips lurched, and she gave out a long, high wail. Neron stilled his mouth against her, and after a few moments her rigid body went lax in the arms of the guards, and I heard her softly panting, her pretty eyes wet and startled.

"That little cunt of yours is a great source of pleasure, is it not, Rasha?"

"Yes, sir,” she responded dejectedly.

"Sweet Rasha, don't sound so sad. Though this means you shan't have a husband, I promise you other paths to happiness remain open to you. And now, you shall see that your sweet cunt is not only a source of pleasure to you, but that it can give to others the pleasure you have just felt. And you will see, too, that your mouth can give pleasure, just as Neron has satisfied you with his mouth.

At a small gesture from Lord Melchior the guards gently set Rasha on her feet. The master stared possessively into her eyes, capturing and holding her gaze, and began undoing his breeches. When he unfastened them his prick sprang up, tall and hard. Poor Rasha looked suddenly terrified, and tried to back away but the guards still flanking her caught her arms and held her still. No doubt she had never seen the sex of a man before, and now that I know how soft and small a thing women have between their legs I cannot imagine what she could have thought, seeing that pole of flesh rising high above the master's groin. Once more he was enjoying her terror and embarrassment, and his hand went to the root of his shaft, gripping it like a weapon, seeming to enjoy the heavy girth of it in his fist. Then, as she looked on, he drew his hand slowly up his cock, letting the hard cylinder of flesh glide through his grip, until he reached the underside of the flared tip. He cuffed himself there, squeezing, making the head flare and darken above his fist, then brought his grip down to the root once more.

"Neron, take away that stool, and place a pillow there.” Then, when Neron had done the master's bidding: “Now, Rasha, on your knees."

The flush of her ecstasy had faded and Rasha was ghostly white once more as she tread reluctantly forward and dropped to her knees. The master cradled her pale face in his large hands, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs.

"Poor Rasha. How fierce and monstrous my manhood must look to your eyes. But you'll see, the skin is soft and delicate, and once it is in your mouth, sweet, you'll find it's warm and full of life. And there is pleasure to be had, Rasha, in giving pleasure. Now, take the root of it in your hand. Gently."

Tentatively she curved her delicate fingers around the thick base.

"Now, sweet Rasha, open that pretty mouth and taste me."

Her lips parted and she bent her head, taking the plump crown into her mouth. The master's body shuddered and he sighed, seeming to love the heat and the wet of her mouth on him. He stroked and petted her beautiful auburn hair as her lips closed around his shaft, and she drew back, pulling the fleshy dome from her mouth with a little slurp that made the master moan. He watched her as she took him in her mouth once more, and with words taught her how to please him, telling her to use her tongue to caress the sensitive head, to tease the little joint of flesh just under the ridge, to slide the length of him into her and draw it out against the sucking of her hungry mouth. She seemed to have lost her fear and was learning her task with endearing enthusiasm.