Skye O'Malley (18 page)

He almost sighed his relief. She was beautiful and loyal, but of late she had become clinging and presumptuous of their long association. He wasn’t quite sure what he would do about her. To free her would only give her ideas above her situation, for she was a slave, born of slave parents. He smiled, thinking back to those many years ago when he had gone to a Circassian breeding farm with an Egyptian friend. His friend was a slave merchant in Alexandria, a connoisseur of beautiful young men and women, who preferred buying directly from the breeder so he might have the best selection.

The owners of the farm had paraded before their valued customer and his guest a variety of exquisite virgins and youths. Yasmin had been among them, and Khalid’s friend remarked on her, saying that they had shown her to him in his two previous visits.

“Alas,” sighed their host, “she is lovelier than an April morning, but I cannot seem to sell her. I have just about decided to breed her with our best stud.”

“What are her bloodlines?” asked Khalid’s friend.

“Pythias out of Iris,” came the reply.

“Whew!” exclaimed the Alexandrian admiringly.

Khalid el Bey had no idea what they were talking about, but there was something touching about the little slave girl. “What is her age?” he asked.

“Fifteen,” came the reply.

“A bit old. Is she a virgin?”

“Sir!” The farm owner was indignant.

Khalid el Bey laughed. “I will take her, my friend. I simply wish to know what it is I am buying.”

An outrageous price was named which Khalid el Bey scoffed at, reminding the slave breeder of the girl’s age and the possibility of her being barren if he bred her rather than sold her. They haggled back and forth until finally a price was agreed upon that suited Khalid el Bey but, according to the merchant, impoverished him. The money was exchanged, and Khalid el Bey found himself the owner of a beautiful Circassian slave girl with long blond hair and Nile green eyes.

When they returned to Alexandria he set about introducing her to the joys of physical love. She had been taught its many arts but had never used them. She knew the human body and its sensitive areas well. Her skillful fingers could bring an impotent man to a firm and long-lasting erection. She could sing while accompanying herself on the lute. She danced well. And after several weeks in Khalid el Bey’s bed, she found that she performed very well there too.

Then one night Khalid el Bey had several guests in for the evening, and when the meal was done she danced for the company. Afterward he sent her to her room, telling her that perhaps one or two of his guests might visit her and if they did she was to please them for that would please him. In fact four of Khalid el Bey’s guests came to her spacious quarters that night, and with each she was soft and charming and skilled. They left singing her praises, and Khalid el Bey rewarded his slave girl with a strand of coral beads. The next night and the night after and almost every other night after that, Yasmin pleasured her master’s friends. Then another girl, Alyia, joined their household. Where Yasmin was fair, Alyia had skin like a dusky rose, thick and waving hair the color of a raven’s wing, enormous brown eyes, and a pouting red mouth. To Yasmin’s fury, Alyia shared their master’s bed for several weeks. But then she too joined the Circassian in entertaining Khalid el Bey’s friends.

Several months later, Khalid el Bey left his two women in the hands of his friend, the slave merchant. He made a quick trip, and returned several weeks later with two more girls. He moved them all to the city of Algiers.

They were installed in a small, beautifully appointed house, and every night Khalid el Bey’s women entertained a variety of guests ranging from wealthy visitors to Turkish officers of the Imperial Ottoman Army who were stationed in Algiers. Within a year Khalid el Bey owned twenty beautiful women and a larger house. At the end of two years he owned fifty beautiful women who lived in two houses, and he had begun the construction of his present villa.
When the third year drew to a close the villa was finished, and Khalid el Bey was the undisputed Whoremaster of Algiers. Two things were constant. Yasmin remained the head of Khalid el Bey’s women, gradually becoming less of a courtesan and more of an administrator and manager. And, there was not a girl who entered Khalid el Bey’s service who was not first tried by him. It gave each of them a close touch with their master, for during the time they served him personally he loved and cherished them. He had never used force to bend a women to his will. Consequently his women all adored him.

With Skye he saw his greatest challenge. With the proper training she could become the finest whore he’d ever owned. Unlike the others, who all cherished the secret dream of being bought and married by one of their customers, Skye would have no such hopes as she had no knowledge of marriage. And if, as he hoped, she proved totally uninhibited, she could be taught some more exotic forms of lovemaking that would command a very high price.

The more he thought of her the more curious he became. Many times he had observed her secretly in the bath and in her bedchamber. Her figure was as lovely as her coloring, but it was her skin that intrigued him. It was flawless. Utterly flawless. Smooth, beautiful skin the color of rich cream, or was it old ivory silk? He longed to touch it with his sensitive fingers, his lips. Would it be soft? Yes, undoubtedly it would be soft. Would it be soft and warm beneath his mouth, or would it be cool and smooth? He shivered in anticipation. Although he enjoyed his women, it had been a long time since he had actually looked forward to one, and it would be several weeks until he could even consider sampling Skye’s charms. He sighed, and went to his bedchamber. Perhaps the little houri who was to be his partner tonight could ease some of his longings.

At midmorning on the following day Yasmin began Skye’s lessons in love. She looked with dislike on the young woman she intuitively knew to be the most serious rival she had ever had for Khalid’s affections. Still, she reasoned, the sooner Skye was taught what she needed to know, the sooner she’d be out of Khalid’s villa. And Skye must be taught well, for then Khalid would be pleased.

“Disrobe for me,” commanded Yasmin, and when Skye quickly complied, her caftan dropping to the floor, Yasmin scolded, “No! No! You show all the sensuousness of a donkey! Let me show you.” And her fingers undid the frog closings on her pink caftan as gracefully as if she’d been playing a musical instrument. Turning, she gently shrugged the garment from her shoulders, exposing her
smooth fair skin. Slowly, slowly, she allowed the garment to slide downward, revealing the line of her back, her plump round buttocks, her legs. Then she turned to face Skye. Her breasts were big, but firm. Sliding to her knees, her head bent to touch the floor and she murmured huskily, “As my lord commands.”

Then suddenly Yasmin stood up briskly and said matter-of-factly, “That is how to disrobe properly. You try it.”

Quietly Skye picked up her robe and dressed. Then, imitating exactly and with equal skill Yasmin’s movements, she removed the caftan again. Sinking to the floor at last, her dark head bowed, her soft voice clear and sweet, she said, “Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” came the terse reply. “It is fortunate you learn quickly.

“We will now discuss perfumes. Sit down. No, don’t bother dressing. I must show you the proper places to anoint yourself. A woman’s body is a work of art, but in order to remain a masterpiece you must work at it constantly.” She reached into the basket by her side and then handed Skye some green leaves. “Mint. Chew them. Your breath should always be fragrant and your teeth clean. All of our women are perfection. That is what makes them famous, and justly so. We are not common street trulls to be had for a few sequins.” Yasmin carefully laid out several bottles on the carpet. “Musk, ambergris, attar of roses. All of our perfumes have one of these as a base.” She uncorked them and held each out so Skye might smell. “Which do you prefer?”

“The roses.”

“Good! I would have chosen that one for you myself. Though my lord Khalid tells me that you are not a virgin, there is an air of innocence about you that we will concentrate upon. It appeals to many men. I will use the attar of roses to demonstrate.” She stood up and, taking the stopper between her thumb and forefinger, stroked it generously between the deep valley of her breasts. Carefully lifting each of the heavy globes, she perfumed beneath them. Next the stopper touched the base of her throat, the back of her neck, the soft spots behind her ears. Then came her wrists, beneath her arms, and in the blue-veined hollows of her inner arm. Yasmin dipped the stopper again and touched it to her navel, the backs of her legs, her ankles, the arches of her feet, and her Venus mound. “You must go lightly here,” she explained, “for men sometimes enjoy the sweet taste of a woman, and that should not be overwhelmed by another scent.”

Skye appeared puzzled, and Yasmin gazed at her enviously. “You really don’t remember, do you?” she said. “Allah, how I envy you! It will be like the first time again for you, but without the pain of virginity.”
Then catching herself, she handed Skye the attar of roses and said brusquely, “Let me see you do it now.”

Carefully Skye imitated her teacher, and when she had finished she looked expectantly toward Yasmin.

“You have forgotten one area,” said Yasmin, taking the bottle stopper from her student. Cupping one of Skye’s breasts, she dotted the scent beneath it.

“Don’t!”

To the older woman’s surprise, Skye’s face was drained of color, her body stiff. Her eyes held horror. Yasmin was genuinely frightened. “What is it, Skye?! Are you all right?”

Slowly the fear drained from the younger woman’s eyes, and she said, bewildered, “I don’t believe I like being touched by another woman.”

“What do you remember, Skye?”

“Nothing. I remember nothing, but when you touched me …” She shivered with genuine revulsion.

Yasmin was concerned. What if Skye didn’t like being touched by men either? She could hardly be a successful whore then, and Khalid el Bey’s investment would be lost. Normally Yasmin would not have introduced the subject of male anatomy until a later lesson, but she felt she must know before she went any further. If the girl was emotionally unstable she should be disposed of now. Yasmin clapped her hands and said to the answering slave girl, “Fetch my new eunuch, Ali.”

Then, turning to Skye, she said, “There are two ways to geld a male. If it is done when they are young, all is removed. But the mortality rate is high. The other way is to remove the male’s seed sac, but leave the rod. We buy only that kind of eunuch, for they are better-natured. They are also invaluable in teaching our girls the things they must learn about a man’s body. Ah, Ali, come in! Come in! Skye, this is Ali. Is he not beautiful?”

The young man flushed. Skye let her eyes slide over him. He was indeed good-looking, tall, with softly golden skin, dark curly hair, and liquid brown eyes. “He is gorgeous, Yasmin. You are indeed fortunate.”

Yasmin smiled smugly, then said sharply to the man, “Ali, disrobe!” She looked quickly to see the effect this would have on Skye. Would she faint? Was she fearful? The eunuch undid his long robe and, removing it, laid it carefully on a chair. Then he stood straight, awaiting further instruction. Yasmin glanced toward Skye. “What do you think of him?”

The younger woman looked puzzled. “As I have said, Yasmin, he is gorgeous.”

“His nakedness does not offend you, or frighten you?”

“No, should it?”

“No, but some women are fearful nonetheless. Now, Skye, I want you to go to Ali, put your arms about him, and press your body to his.”

Skye did as Yasmin commanded, sliding her arms around the eunuch’s neck, rubbing instinctively in a very provocative way against the young man’s soft body. He shuddered, nuzzled her ear, squeezed one of her buttocks, then cupped a breast in his hand. Her eyes grew dark with desire, and she swayed slightly.

“Mistress!” Ali’s voice was pleading, and Yasmin laughed. She had learned what she needed to know. Skye might dislike a woman’s touch but she enjoyed a man’s. The lessons could continue. Without giving Ali another thought, she dismissed him. He fled, gathering his robe.

“What a funny creature,” Skye observed. “Didn’t he like me?”

Yasmin laughed again. “He liked you very much, and had you been alone he might have made love to you. I will allow him to do so when you have more knowledge. We use these young eunuchs for that purpose, as we can hardly practice technique on our gentlemen.” She looked candidly at Skye. “You’re a good student, but that is all we will do today. I will come tomorrow at the same time.”

After Yasmin had dressed and gone, Skye sat quietly for a few minutes. Then her hands crept upward to cup her own breasts. Gently she caressed her body and was amazed to see her nipples harden. She thought about what it would be like to have a man stroke her, and felt a tingling between her legs. It was all so pleasurable. What other lovely things had her cursed memory wiped away? Sighing, she stretched naked on the cushions and fell asleep.

That evening Khalid el Bey sent for Skye. She was fresh from the baths and had just finished perfuming herself. Sliding a lightweight wisteria-colored silk caftan over her body, she ran barefoot through the short, carpeted hallway that separated her room from his apartments.

“How lovely you are!” he said as she entered the room. He noted the sheen of her skin and the way her midnight-colored hair curled in damp tendrils about her face. “Yasmin tells me your lessons went well. She feels you have a talent and will progress quickly. She is pleased with you, and therefore I am pleased.”

Her face became radiant. “I want to please you, my lord Khalid! Without you I should be nothing.”

His big hand cupped her chin, and his dark eyes looked into her blue ones. “I do not think so, my little lost bird. I do not think so.” Then smiling, he asked gently, “What have you learned?”

“Just perfuming, and the proper way to disrobe before a gentleman.”

“Disrobe for me,” he commanded, sitting cross-legged amid the colorful cushions. “Pretend I am to be your gentleman.”