【The Prisoner of Desire】(The End) 【Author: Cleo Corday】

Author: Cleo Corday
Word Count: 110965
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"She's not here. I think
she's sunk. How terrible! Now it's just the two of us left. Come on. Push harder, let's find shelter
."
So they steered forward with all their might. Such a journey was dangerous and highly stressful; neither of them
dared or could afford to be distracted by the other passengers. Just then, Marita felt a strong hand grab her arm
, and at the same time, amidst the roar of the wind and waves, a deep, powerful voice clearly entered her ears.
"Come with me. You might need my boat. This tiny space is already crammed with too many people and luggage;
it'll burst sooner or later."
She stammered her thanks. Claude was almost speechless; her face was as white
as paper, and her lips were frozen purple. Marita practically leaned on the stranger's arm, half-dragging, half-pulling him off
the deck and across a long corridor.
"You'd better change out of your wet clothes so you don't catch a cold," he said, tossing Marita two towels.
“There are clothes in that suitcase, take what you need. I have to go, the people on the ship need me.
Help yourselves to anything you need.”
“Thank you, you’re so kind. May I know your name?” Marita began.
But he was gone, the door slamming shut.
She easily took off her wet dress, bodice, and petticoat, vigorously rubbing her arms and legs until they
were red. Claude was also busy tidying herself up. Then they sat side by side on the narrow bed. The loss
of Sister Anna’s company was sudden, and Marita prayed silently for her for a while, but couldn’t help
feeling relieved and at ease.
“I’m so glad she’s gone. That cold-blooded animal!” Claude suddenly said.
Marita looked at her friend in surprise. Suddenly they both burst into laughter. It was hilarious;
Sister Anna was a harsh and humorless old spinster. Marita recalled the times Sister Anna had mistreated her,
remembering how this nun had even made her slap herself. These things were always buried deep in her heart; no one knew, not even Claude
.
Claude certainly had his reasons for hating Aunt Anna.
"Is there any brandy?" Claude asked, his teeth chattering. She sat wrapped in a towel, her long, red hair
cascading messily down her bare, smooth shoulders.
Marita searched around. The cabin was large and spacious. Charcoal burned in the fireplace, making the whole room
warm. An oil lamp on the ceiling swayed and glowed red,
reflecting off the wooden paneling beside it. No brandy. She found a can of coffee.
"Our savior certainly doesn't drink," she said, "but he must be a cultured man. And certainly
wealthy." She scooped the coffee from the can, put it in a small, portable pitcher, added water, and placed it
on the fireplace. "Fresh fruit on the table, and that bowl is gold! And look at these silk embroidered bedspreads!"
Claude knelt down and opened his suitcase. “He speaks so beautifully, his magnetic voice is so charming. Do you
think he’s a businessman? Maybe he’s the owner of this ship. As for his wealth, that goes without saying.
What do you think?”
She bent down and picked up piles of clothes, all of them looking very luxurious and with an indescribable exotic flair.
Batik, silk, velvet, gauze, brocade—the various textures of the clothes dazzled her. She
smiled involuntarily, as she always did when she saw something beautiful and luxurious. She kept exclaiming in amazement. Marita
remembered that they hadn’t been this happy in six years.
Marita smiled. “What are these clothes? They look like costumes.”
“What does it matter? He said we could take whatever we wanted. Now we need to dry our clothes.”
Claude pulled out a wide, fitted silk blouse, pale yellow. Then she took out a dark yellow skirt and an
embroidered belt studded with jewels. She lowered her eyelids, her bare back facing the wall. She loosened the towel and quickly
put on the blouse.
Marita felt she was trying to hide something, which was unnecessary. As longtime friends,
she had seen Krotin's beautiful body since childhood, and their openness when alone had become an unspoken understanding. Could this also be...?
Was she destined to be confined and excluded by the damned rules and regulations of the monastery?
Krotin lowered her head again, focusing intently on her search. "Let me pick one out for you. How about this one? Look at how fine
the velvet is! How elegant this wide collar is! Oh, and so many jewels set in it. It's simply incomparable !
You should put it on quickly, I can't wait. The color matches your light gray hair perfectly, it's practically
made for you!"
Her excitement infected Marita. Marita laughed at her childishness as she put on the dress.
It felt a little strange not wearing a petticoat or bodice. The silk felt cool and comfortable against her skin.
There was a mirror in the cabin, and the two young women, captivated by their beautiful reflections, admired their
bodies, barely concealed by the thin silk, and were overjoyed.
They giggled, twirled, watching their skirts rise and fall, fluttering like fairies in a fairy tale,
ready to take flight at any moment. If the nuns in the convent saw this scene, they would surely be furious.
The aroma of coffee filled the entire cabin. Before they could even settle down and sit down for a cup of coffee, their
benefactor returned. In the earlier commotion, Marita hadn't had a chance to get a good look at him, but now she could see clearly
that he was a tall man with light skin and a resolute, angular face.
He smiled slightly. "It's clear you've recovered. Very good, you've made coffee. If you'd like
some, I'd like some. I really need some warmth right now."
"Please. And you are…?" Marita asked.
"You can call me Qasim. And you?"
"Maritta de Naver. This is my closest friend, Claude Dupont."
"Oh, so you're French," he said, suddenly realizing.
"In a way, yes," she said, giving a charming smile. "We don't know how to thank you enough,
Mr. Qasim. This cabin is very comfortable; I hope you don't mind the clothes we borrowed from your trunk."
He waved his hand. “I was hoping so. I want you to accept it. They were originally intended as gifts
for family members. But perhaps the colors were chosen just for you; you both look so beautiful and outstanding in them. You
both have a very special radiance. Krotin has golden skin and bright red hair, and you, with your fair
skin, silver hair, and blue eyes, are
a beauty that would leave any painter, or even any art connoisseur, in awe.”
He waved his hand, smiling very sincerely. “Now, I insist that you accept these things.
Who else but you deserves them?”
“Thank you, sir. Most of our clothes are lost; you’re so kind.” Krotin
smiled charmingly, revealing two dimples.
Kasim sipped his coffee. “I’m happy to serve beautiful ladies, especially young
women in distress. Oh dear, I have to go again. I imagine you must think I’m being impulsive?” His lips curled slightly into a faint smile, but there was something 　　intense
in his gaze as he looked into Marita’s dark blue eyes .
Marita felt a thrill of excitement welling up inside her. He was so incredibly attractive.
"Not reckless, but perhaps a little too frank?" she said.
He laughed loudly. "Yes, I am, often."
A weary yet unwavering expression appeared on his face. He had a broad forehead, clearly
etched with sharpness and intelligence. Marita suddenly realized that this man was dangerous. This
immediately made her uneasy.
"We are still in danger, sir," Claude said lively, interrupting her thoughts.
"Isn't that so? You must admit that you lost your companion in the storm and are now isolated and helpless?"
"Yes." "
Then I insist, please allow me to take you under my care.
I have a large house in Algiers, near the port where the ship will soon arrive. I would be honored if you would be my guests. If you are worried that your
relatives and friends will worry, I will send someone to deliver a message to them."
Marita looked at Claude. She covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes widened, and she nodded slightly
.
Marita immediately agreed with delight. Of course, she knew it was wrong; they
certainly wouldn't agree if they knew. But who would know? Aunt Anna was gone, and
where could they stay until the rescue ship came to take them home? It was better to stay with Qasim than to find a random inn in some unknown town
.
"Thank you, sir," Marita said. This was a heartfelt expression from both of them. "We are delighted to accept
your kind invitation,"
Qasim said, finishing his coffee and raising his eyelids. "So, you're going to Martinnick?
Is your home there?"
Marita nodded, remembering the large white house in Botelhoye. “My father owns a sugarcane
plantation. We were educated at the Nantes Abbey, and after graduation we went home.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of that place,” Qasim said. “It’s a school for raising ladies, isn’t
it? I’ve heard the rules there are very strict?”
Marita blushed slightly. He certainly couldn’t imagine how strict it must be.
“After such a life-or-death struggle, and after a little food, I think you should relax. Please
let me do your bidding. Everything will be arranged here.”
Krotin smiled. “That sounds wonderful! That’s exactly what I long for, wearing
casual blue clothes, eating simple but delicious food, walking around in a room surrounded by stone walls. Oh,
just the word ‘relax’ makes my mouth water.”
Qasim laughed. "We'll be in Algil soon. I'll show you around those
fragrant rooms. You'll drink shaved ice, watch the beautiful fountains, and
be surrounded by the aroma of jasmine and roses. Ah, my dear girls, this is exactly what I'd be happy to offer you." Such
a promise, such a deep, smooth, velvety voice—Marita felt a sweet warmth flow down her back
.
Krotin glanced at her sideways, a loud laugh escaping his throat. They both longed to go to Argil,
vaguely feeling that their lives might change forever.
Qasim stood up, picked up his hat, and walked to the door. "Please forgive me, you've endured enough hardship to
exhaust you; I should let you rest early."
Marita wasn't tired. On the contrary, she felt incredibly excited. She had never met such a charismatic
person; in some ways, he was even superhuman. He seemed to radiate a magnetic energy.
The end of the conversation left her somewhat disappointed; Qasim was too attractive. He had thick, curly, almost black hair. His black
clothes concealed his physique, but from the way he walked, though slightly unsteady, he was clearly a muscular
man.
She felt something boiling in her blood. During her long time in the monastery, she had rarely seen a man.
Now fate had brought Qasim to her. What a wonderful man he was! Krotin felt the same way; a
surge of intense emotion welled up within him, its turbulent waves barely concealed by his silken robes.
"I will ensure you are undisturbed," Qasim said. "Good night, and tomorrow morning, if you
would allow, how about we have dinner together? That would please me greatly."
He smiled warmly. Marita was deeply moved, but she couldn't fully trust him yet.
How she longed to know more about men! Qasim was attentive and eloquent, a dangerous quality, though
it also made him irresistibly attractive. It
was complicated for a girl from a convent to handle all this; it seemed Qasim had won completely.
"But…but where will you stay tonight?" Marita asked.
He turned and smiled at her. "Don't worry about me, Miss Marita, I'll stay in the servant's room next door
. But I'm touched that you thought of that. Thank you for your concern." His dark, deep eyes gazed at her, and Marita felt weak all over. There was 　　something unfathomable
deep within his eyes . 　　So Qasim turned and walked away. 　　Krotin kept talking incessantly about Qasim. 　　"He's so attractive, so well-mannered. I've never met anyone like him, so polite 　　, a true gentleman. Where do you think he's from? Spanish? No, his name Qasim sounds 　　Arab. Maybe Turkish. Do you think he likes me? He says I'm petite. Many men 　　don't usually care about red hair and freckles. He likes you too, even more than he likes me, but I think you have no shortage of 　　admirers." 　　She went on and on. Marita nodded frequently, and when she paused to catch her breath 　　, she added a comment or two. She smiled genuinely. Her friend hadn't been this lively in a long time 　　, and she herself, frankly, was a little flattered by the compliments. 　　Krotin yawned. “This bed is so wide, enough for both of us.” 　　“It’s so much more comfortable than that tiny, cramped bed in the dorm,” Marita said. “I hated the nights there, 　　that cold, lifeless room. The blankets were so narrow and small, pieced together from who-knows-where. 　　I also hated having to lie properly in bed, even in the coldest weather, with my arms outside the covers 　　.” 　　“Just to prevent us from touching our own sinful bodies!” Krotin scoffed. “What a despicable 　　hypocrisy!” 　　Marita paused, a flicker of suspicion crossing her mind. “What do you mean?” 　　“Oh, it’s like this. Now that we’re home, there’s no need to hide anymore. We all know 　　what Aunt Anna is.” 　　Marita looked up quickly. “Krotin!” 　　Her eyes widened as Krotin took off her coat and turned to show her her bare back. She now 　　knew what Krotin had been hiding. Her buttocks were covered in crisscrossing red welts, a shocking sight 　　. On Krotin's golden skin were clearly visible welts from the whip. 　　She was speechless. "You too? But when was this? It looks fresh." 　　"Two days ago. You think I was on deck? Sister Anna called me to her cabin. She said I 　　needed to have my soul cleansed. She said I was a restless fellow and she would beat the sins out of my body, just as she 　　often did in the convent. I was terrified. She was so harsh, so rigid." 　　"She made me lie between her knees, covered my face with her moldy robe, and muffled my groans 　　. At first, with each blow, I writhed and cried out in unbearable pain, but later... my 　　skin began to itch, and my flesh seemed to tremble involuntarily, as if I enjoyed the torture." 　　Krotin paused for a moment. Her cheeks were slightly flushed. "I think Aunt Anna knows exactly how I felt, 　　because she didn't just beat me. When she stopped, and I was sobbing, she... she rubbed the whip 　　between my legs and then shoved her cold, hard fingers inside me. I couldn't bear it. 　　My body started to writhe, my cheeks flushed, my buttocks burned and red, and my heart raced." 　　"She called me filthy in a light, sharp voice, saying I was soft and tender like a whore. But I actually liked 　　her teasing; the harder she teased me, the more comfortable I felt. My breathing quickened, and I was immersed in a 　　pleasure I had never experienced before. Finally, she made me suck her fingers clean, and then left without a word, 　　leaving me lying on the floor sobbing softly. Oh, Marita, now she's dead. I... I don't know how to 　　describe how I felt." 　　Clotin's light brown eyes filled with tears. If she had been forcing herself to say these things before, 　　now she was completely broken, her lips trembling uncontrollably. Marita put her arm around her and smoothed her hair. A 　　single, glistening tear slid down Krotin's cheek. 　　"Don't say anymore. There's nothing to blame yourself for. We should have talked about these things sooner. How many 　　people did she abuse? I thought it was just me. I was afraid to speak up, letting her come up with new ways 　　to torment me time and time again." 　　"Did she hit you?"

“No, she used other methods to humiliate me. Oh, you must be cold without clothes on. How about we get into bed
, snuggle together to warm up, and I'll tell you later.”
Krotin climbed into bed. Marita took off her clothes, snuggled up to her, and took her arm. Krotin’s
soft breasts pressed against Marita’s; she was shorter than Marita, her head resting on Marita’s chin. Marita’s breath was
sweet, gently brushing Krotin’s hair.
“This feels so good,” Krotin murmured. “I remember when I was little, I
would run to your bed after having nightmares.”
Marita smiled brightly, feeling much more at ease and secure. To be honest, Krotin’s supple
body against her felt very pleasant. The feeling was indescribable, but at the same time, she thought of
Aunt Anna’s withered body, her stern horse-face, the unpleasant smell emanating from her skin, and her
cold, rough hands.
"What did she do to you?" Krotin asked in a low voice, as if reading her thoughts. "Tell me
. Let out all the ugly memories, forget them forever, and they can never hurt us again
."
Marita's mouth was dry, and a blush of shame rose on her face. She shouldn't have said it... but perhaps
this was the time for her to drive away the demons within her. She forced herself to continue.
"That was not long after we arrived at the convent. I think she didn't like me because she could
find fault with everything I did, nitpicking and beating me. She often left me until last, asking me
nitpicking questions, like, 'Are you all clean?'"
"She made me open my mouth and carefully examined my teeth to see if they were clean, held my earlobes to check
if my ears were clean, and sometimes she lifted my skirt to check my shirt for stains. Once she told me to undo my braids.
She pulled hard, making my head throb. Slowly I realized she was jealous of my youth."
"And your beauty. No wonder she's jealous. Her chest is flat; no one would even glance at her with affection.
That old bitch probably wants to devour you whole!"
Marita's face flushed even more. "She...she almost did. She made me clean the room, which was my
greatest fear, but I dared not resist. The worst was scrubbing the floor. I had to squat on the ground,
scrubbing bit by bit, with Aunt Anna watching. She made me roll up my shirt and skirt to my waist and tie them up,
so my buttocks were completely exposed."
"She said it was to keep my clothes clean from the wet floor. I had to kneel and scrub back and forth repeatedly,
while her eyes followed my buttocks, even looking inside. I was so aggrieved I almost cried."
"But she never used the whip on you? That surprises me. You must have been very embarrassed. Is that all?"
"That was just the beginning. She did everything she could to humiliate me. Then one day she seemed very strange,
a terrible light flashing in her eyes. I realized something was about to happen, so I finished mopping the floor as usual and got up to
leave. My face was flushed with shame. I hurriedly pulled down my skirt to cover myself, but Aunt Anna wouldn't let
me go."
Her eyes were burning as she stared at my lower abdomen, then looked down. I felt increasingly embarrassed and quickly
covered myself with my hands, but I didn't dare leave. Then she told me not to pull down my skirt and to go to the wooden bench where she was sitting
. I hesitated and didn't move.
"She got angry and threatened that if I didn't obey, she had even harsher ways to punish me. Then she said I
didn't look very clean, that I hadn't washed properly. I protested that I was clean, that I had showered an hour before work
. She didn't believe me, saying my hair was messy and made me let it down over my shoulders."
Marita paused, took a deep breath, and continued, "Her fingers ran through my hair, almost pulling and
combing it. I felt the bench beneath me was cold and hard, and I quickly remembered to close my legs to cover some of
my exposed body. My legs were trembling. But if I moved, she would immediately hit my legs. After a while,
she made me lie on the bench, saying she needed to check me properly. Krotin… I can't even go on."
Krotin's soft fingers slid across Marita's back. Her legs wrapped around one of Marita's legs, gently
rubbing it. Marita felt something wet sliding over her, and her whole body felt a little hot.
Her friend said in a very soft, distant voice, “Go on. I want to know everything.”
“I was lying on that long, narrow bench. My skirt was still tied around my waist, and my legs were pressed tightly together, so tightly it
hurt. Aunt Anna yanked them apart, her fingers sliding up my toes, ankles, calves—
dry and cold. She examined my knees, judging the smoothness of my skin. Then she stopped at my thighs
and rubbed them hard a few times, making me almost cry. My instinctive reaction was to tighten my legs, and she slapped
me.”
"Don't move," she threatened, pulling my legs apart again. I was terrified;
there was an eerie look on her face, a faint blush on her pale cheeks. I lay motionless, her eyes
scanning between my thighs. "Spread your legs, put them on either side of the stool," she commanded. "Don't resist
, or you'll taste the whip. I want to see the ugliest part of you."
Claudin's breathing quickened. Marita felt her slowly move closer, gently rubbing against her, her body
warm. Claudin's lips lightly touched Marita's cheek, giving her a fleeting kiss.
"I can't resist," she whispered. "Think of your stunningly beautiful body,
displayed there so openly, smooth as jade, supple and alluring. I'm almost aroused myself. Keep going
, hurry up, it helps me get rid of those painful memories, you don't mind, do you?"
Marita didn't care; in fact, she was also aroused by Krotin's movements. Her nipples became
small and hard, and her whole body felt hot. She focused and continued her story.
"You can imagine how embarrassed I was. The room was cold, and I could clearly feel the chill coming from the stool
. My buttocks were pressed against the stool so she could see what she wanted to see. I had never been in
such a humiliating situation."
"The blood rushed to my face, burning red. Was that enough? She told me to get up, and I felt a wave of relief,
thinking it was finally over. But she wasn't satisfied; she bent down to look closer. I closed my eyes, resigning myself to fate
. I was afraid to look into her wolfish eyes, which gleamed with greed, like she'd spotted prey. She
put her hand between my legs, groping and pinching hard. I felt terribly uncomfortable." "
Then I felt her fingers part my labia and press down, causing the inside to protrude
. Tears slowly welled in my closed eyes. I hated everything she did, but I couldn't deny that at that moment,
I felt a warm, comfortable sensation in my abdomen."
"Ah, that's right, it's obviously unclean!" Granny Anna suddenly said, her voice a little strange.
“I’ll teach you how to do it.”
“I had an urge to back away. I didn’t dare open my eyes. Suddenly, something warm and wet was wriggling inside me
. I was startled and confused. It took me a while to realize that it was Aunt Anna’s tongue! I opened my eyes and saw
her head bobbing around beneath me, busy ‘cleaning’ my genitals! She licked my labia, then my thighs
and lower abdomen. I felt swollen and painful, and groaned as I lifted my buttocks to rub against her dry lips.”
“She laughed wildly, calling me a slut, but didn’t seem to mind. She would occasionally slap me, not a
real slap, but just to increase my pleasure. Then, her tongue went deeper, and I felt her
fingers gripping my buttocks tightly.”
“Her two dry, withered fingers hurt me. I convulsed, straightened my legs, bent my back
, and thrust my lower abdomen out of her mouth. Aunt Anna was breathing heavily. She slowly released her grip, trembling, and
stood up.”
“Alright, you’re clean now,” she said. “Put down your skirt and get out.”
I staggered out of the room, my legs trembling. I was embarrassed by the pleasure I had just experienced.
But I must admit later, I even craved her behavior. It was a first in all my experiences. “
Oh, Marita,” Crotin groaned, pulling her close, grasping her hips, her genitals
rubbing more and more against Marita’s thighs. “I felt it so real, kiss me, oh, kiss my lips,
please.”
Marita pressed her lips to Crotin’s, giving her a long kiss. Their tongues intertwined for the first time
, and it felt wonderful. Absolutely exquisite. Crotin suddenly released her, a gasp escaping her lips, and Marita felt
her blood boiling. They were both immersed in a great pleasure.
Slowly, Crotin calmed down. Her fingers gently patted Marita’s back as she slowly lay down. Marita
held her tighter. She was exhausted. All the fear and anxiety, the mixed
emotions, and Aunt Anna's actions seemed to have vanished. She was glad that Krotin
found pleasure in her narrative.
Krotin was a young, vibrant beauty, and the pleasure she derived directly from sex soothed her
trauma. Marita felt comforted too. Now it was time to sleep.
Tomorrow… tomorrow there was Qasim.
Marita woke up in the middle of the night.
Qasim appeared in her dream, and she couldn't shake him off. It seemed she had known him for a long time, or that he was
someone who looked remarkably like him. He was the one who had appeared in her dreams so many times, with dark skin and a handsome face,
bringing her courage and solace in the long, lonely, and gloomy nights.
She imagined him coming to her side in the darkness, his angular face vivid and passionate in the moonlight.
Shadows were cast on the sockets of his eyes. Although she couldn't see the color, she could tell that his sensual lips
looked like they had just been kissed. He reached out and lifted her clothes; the soft silk slipped silently down, revealing her
fair shoulders. His cool fingers caressed her body…
She pulled herself back to reality. They seemed so close, as if they were telepathically connected. Did he like her, as much as she liked
him? Certainly not. He was a cautious man when it came to emotions. But she couldn't help but think of him; he was
the brightest, most radiant part of her thoughts.
It was dangerous, a dangerously alluring danger. This danger made her heart pound.
Her emotions were still turbulent. Beside her, Claude slept soundly and peacefully, his face serene and
calm; all her bewilderment had vanished.
She had to calm down. Born into a wealthy French family, she was well-mannered and, though spoiled to the point
of being somewhat willful, had always been composed. She had always been proud of her composure. Even
during those days in the convent, when she was tormented by Sister Anna, she remained the same; as long as it was daytime, Sister Anna had
to restrain herself, and she was no longer afraid. Just how much power did this man possess to disturb her peaceful
life?
She pulled Krotin close, placing her hand on her warm back. Krotin's soft buttocks rested against her thighs.
She was completely relaxed.
Her feelings for Qasim, an aggressive man, revealed how ignorant she was about men.
She simultaneously resolved to become more experienced as soon as possible.
Despite the turmoil in her mind, she finally fell into a deep sleep, without dreams.
For the remainder of the journey, Qasim kept them in his room. They ate together and talked about
many things.
He was extremely charming, seemingly very interested in their conversations, while they remained completely unaware of him
, always skillfully and promptly deflecting conversations when they turned to him personally. At first, Marita didn't realize it, but
later she began to pay attention to his excuses, his mocking smiles during silences, and sometimes his mischievous grins that hinted
he had let something slip. He had said he was always frank about his flaws, seemingly proud of it.
Was this his way of protecting his secrets, avoiding questions he couldn't answer truthfully?
Even this became part of his charm. His mysterious background added to his
allure. All she knew was that he had traveled extensively, was wealthy, and owned a large house in Algiers.
Qasim's servants cooked, cleaned, and served all of them. A dark-skinned Englishman named Hammett...
The handsome man seemed to be a close friend of Qasim's. They were often together, and Marita guessed they were discussing
business, or perhaps Qasim was giving instructions to the servants.
One morning, Marita was alone in her cabin when Claudin came up on deck. Marita was trying on a
hairstyle, the most fashionable in Paris. She blow-dried her hair into small curls and then coiled it up.
Qasim entered silently. She saw herself in the mirror and abruptly turned around.
He laughed heartily. "Excuse me. I didn't mean to scare you. I thought no one was here. But I'm
very pleased to see you, beautiful lady."
Before she could speak, he had already reached out to touch her hair. He looked admiringly at the little beanie on it
, his fingers already touching her scalp. She felt his hand slide down her scalp to her neck, extremely gently.
"Your hair is such a light color, like strands of twisted candy," he said, wrapping a strand of hair around his long
fingers. "I've never seen hair like this before."
His other hand moved to her sleeve, slowly caressing her bodice. Marita held her breath. He
deftly unzipped the zipper with his fingertips, removing the delicate printed bodice, his fingers gliding over Marita's bare skin, tracing
her neck.
"Such beautiful skin, smooth as jade."
His touch was extremely gentle, but Marita couldn't help but tremble. His fingertips were warm, and her
pulse quickened. Qasim let out a loud laugh. Their eyes met in the mirror, Marita
flinched, and then lowered her head. Her cheeks flushed, and her lips trembled slightly.
“You are a budding flower, Marita. Do you know where your allure comes from? Innocence
. How difficult it is for a man to resist that, I will show you
how much pleasure a flesh-and-blood body can enjoy. But… I will wait. Until you tell me yourself that
the time is right.”
She stared at him, her vision blank, her eyes a deep, clear blue. She didn’t know
how to answer him. She was speechless. His words were too shocking. She should have cried out for help, condemned his
actions, but she could only bite her lip, her fingers unconsciously stroking her clothes.
Qasim smiled slightly, languidly yet meaningfully. His gaze swept across her face, guessing her
reaction. Then he kissed her curls and leaned back in his chair.
Marita breathed a sigh of relief, but felt an emptiness, unable to move for a moment. Her skin, which had been hot,
was now cold. She tried to calm her rapid breathing, thinking she shouldn't have dressed so tightly.
Marita regained her composure, and an awkward silence filled the cabin. She picked up a comb and began to tidy her somewhat
disheveled hair, but her hands trembled violently, which Qasim must have noticed. She put down the comb and carefully pinned the
little silk flowers to the curlers.
Qasim said in a dreamlike tone, "You look even more charming in your own clothes; Hammett
has arranged them so well, they look brand new. But I still prefer you to wear the clothes in the trunk.
A beauty like you would be worthy of any jewelry—grandmother, sapphire, or gold necklace. Ah, you are the incomparable
Miss Marita. It is a feast for my eyes to have you as my guest."
The aggressive man was gone. In his place stood this polite gentleman, and she even
wondered if his earlier words had been a nightmare.
"Th-thank you," she said with some difficulty, unsure how to reply. His change was so
swift that it left her somewhat bewildered.
He was about to say something more when a shout rang out.
"Land! We see land!"
Qasim hurried to the deck, glancing at Marita. "Come on, Marita, I want to share this wonderful moment with you
. You'll see the Barbary Sea, my home."
She grabbed her hat, tied a knot at her chin, and followed Qasim onto the deck. Her legs felt weak;
the surfaces Qasim had touched seemed to still retain warmth. She clenched her fists. A strange feeling
spread from the depths of her heart. Warm and excited. Anticipation? Yes. But whether it was because she was about to see the coastline or because she was going
to Qasim's house, she couldn't say for sure.
Krotin leaned against the railing. In the distance, a hill was nestled among towering buildings. Cypress trees were everywhere
, flickering like dark green candles. And many crimson spires. The entire coastline
shimmered under the sun , like a necklace of turquoise, sparkling with captivating light.
"It's so beautiful!" Marita whispered.
"Wait until you see my home before you draw your conclusions," Qasim said, looking directly into her eyes. "It will
surprise you even more. Of course, with you all here, all my jewels will pale in comparison, but I think you
'll love it there."
Krotin glanced excitedly at Marita. At this moment, any words would be superfluous. The crowd had already surged onto the deck, gazing at the coastline with great delight. Qasim suddenly turned his back to the sea, a barely 　　perceptible shadow
crossing his face , seemingly indicating some annoyance, but it vanished in a moment. 　　“I hope you will heed my advice. Algiers is a dangerous place for girls who don’t wear veils 　　. Only prostitutes here don’t wear veils, and of course, they don’t wear much clothing either. I assure you that you 　　will be safe with me, but if you go out dressed like this, you will definitely attract a lot of attention, and they will stare at you, making you feel very uncomfortable. So, I suggest you wear these 　　traditional clothes 　　that cover you from head to toe .” 　　Krotin smiled sweetly. “Really, sir, is that necessary? Ha, you always like to flatter 　　us like this, saying we are special. Perhaps you want to lock us up for your own enjoyment?” 　　“Oh my! We free young women are not caged birds!” 　　They laughed at each other. 　　“Krotin is often silly,” Marita said affectionately. “I think that’s what I’m thinking. I don’t want to become the 　　target of everyone’s attention. What do you think, Krotin?” 　　“Of course. I was just joking. Where are the clothes?” Krotin smiled at Qasim.

Qasim smiled too, but a satisfied gleam shone in his eyes. Marita sensed his happiness had another
reason; he seemed so distracted, so eager to leave the ship.
A deep-seated fear returned to her. The conversation in the cabin resurfaced in her mind. This man
was amorous and wealthy; he could get what he wanted. Were they right to go with him? Alas,
it was too late to refuse now.
Qasim might be a cold, even cruel fellow; she could almost instinctively conclude that.
He smiled, warmth radiating from his angular face. Ah, he was an interesting man. He was like
a forbidden fruit, full of sinful temptation.
No one could refuse his invitation.
Marita's stomach churned.
Everything about this man was forgivable.
Chapter Two
Marita and Krodin were packing to disembark. Qasim stood outside the door, listening to their movements.
He carried a large pile of clothes: black robes, shawls, veils, gloves. He was going to go into the cabin to deliver the things to them in a little while
, but he had to wait.
He was filled with anticipation for that moment. It was incredible; in a little while, he would disembark with these two charming guests
and return to his home together. His mind was filled with all sorts of beautiful fantasies; they would
do many wonderful things together.
Let's talk about Claude first. She was an easily conquered girl; dealing with her wouldn't be difficult. She was easily
indulging in pleasure, lively and lovely. That much was certain. What man wouldn't want to stroke her hair,
or admire her curvaceous body? Who wouldn't want to hold her soft, fragrant body in their arms?
He remembered her naked. Through the small hole in the cabin wall, he had already seen everything. He
had also seen the naked Marita, though only for a moment, it was enough to make his heart flutter.
Ah, she was so perfect; although not as voluptuous as her friends, her smooth skin and her shy, hesitant
expression had completely conquered him. He heard Aunt Anna's story, and their heartfelt confessions,
all of which excited him greatly.
Then his nightgown slipped down, and he saw Claude's thighs bending and straightening, and her full breasts, her nipples
clenched. They were both beautiful, vibrant girls.
Thinking of this, his penis became erect. He had been like this ever since he first saw them. It made him
feel strong, real. He often enjoyed this pleasure, and the longer it lasted, the more excited he became.
There was only one problem: he needed enough willpower to control this feeling.
Control—he liked the word; it described him in a way. He was always self-controlled and disciplined regarding his shortcomings
, and few could guess the turbulent inner world beneath his calm exterior. His self-control was
commendable; indulging in momentary impulses was not his usual practice.
Long ago, he discovered an unexpected realm. A realm where pain and pleasure were intertwined,
enough to ecstasy anyone.
Marita and Claude, of course, would be invited to this game.
He remembered Marita's expression when he entered the cabin. She was dressed in ridiculous Western clothes, yet still looked
captivating. The light gray velvet suit suited her perfectly. A few roses adorned her gossamer-thin scarf
, which wrapped around her neck and was cleverly knotted at the back. She was combing her hair, her sleeves
slipping down from her elbows, like beautiful flowers concealing her upper arms and revealing her nimble, delicate wrists.
He saw her corset and brightly colored skirt. The thought of the satin-smooth
skin beneath the corset and skirt made his heart flutter.
His penis hardened, pressing against his trousers. His stomach clenched.
He didn't want to touch her, but he simply couldn't resist. He placed his hand on her head, and instantly everything felt so
wonderful. The strands of hair wrapped around his hand were light and warm, carrying the scent of some kind of hay, as if they had been treated with some kind of hair
conditioner. He couldn't even wait for her to wash off the conditioner; he just wanted to cup her hair in his hands and bury his face
in it.
Her hair had triggered his impropriety. He touched her breasts. Her skin was smooth as jade, and he almost
lost control. He slipped his hand inside her bra and touched her nipples. He imagined them protruding
, her entire breast like a ripe fruit, and he longed to suckle them. He would stare at them for a long time, lick
them until they shone with his tongue, suck them until they swelled, and play a fun game with his tongue and teeth.
In the end, he restrained himself and didn't touch her, but just walked around the room. In the mirror, Marita's
eyes were more intoxicated than anything else, wide open and blue. She looked innocent and pleading, her
pink lips trembling, her face full of fear. Did she know she was about to lose her virginity? He thought she was
resisting this from the bottom of her heart.
Let's wait until everything is better.
This moment was worth waiting for, both for him and for her. And this moment would surely come,
he was certain of it.
He walked toward the cabin, and the door opened. "Here are your clothes," his voice was calm and steady.
"Ready?"
Marita looked around with delight. Algil was a fascinating place.
The air was suffocatingly hot. The scent of jasmine mingled with dust, and the aroma of roasted meat and pastries
filled their nostrils. Qasim led them along a cobblestone path, lined with
vendors hawking their wares, holding piles of glass rosaries and colorful fabrics.
They wound their way through a narrow alleyway flanked by high stone walls, which
seemed mysterious to the two girls. Occasionally, they saw country courtyards with blue tiles gleaming in the sun,
embroidered cloth curtains hanging at their doors. Along the way were small fountains, surrounded by trees and
potted plants.
Then they walked down a foul-smelling alley, the entrance to which was piled with sticky, filthy things. Swarms of rats
scurried away from the rotting food. Next to the butcher shop, a dirty, barefoot boy was playing with some dark, grimy
game. Nearby, a group of old men drank and fanned their stoves.
Marita's eyes, hidden behind her black veil, were captivated by it all. She wore a long black robe and a
black shawl, her body completely covered. Krotingue was ahead, but was
obscured by Hammett's massive frame. Marita could only see the top of her hat. In such a dangerous place, they both appeared
too small and powerless to protect themselves. Qasim walked at the head of the procession, flanked by two servants. One held a
parasol, the other a huge fan made of peacock feathers.
Marita couldn't help but notice how smoothly they moved, almost as if by magic. People
stopped what they were doing to let them pass. Some bowed, some placed their hands on their foreheads or lips in
welcome. Many looked at them curiously. Some, mainly
the shabbily dressed women, cast hostile glances at them.
She was pleased to wear such a strange outfit; the black cloth offered some protection from the harsh sunlight and
absorbed her sweat. She insisted on wearing her own underwear, but now she regretted not listening to Qasim. Her
bra was soaked with sweat and clung tightly to her body. If she had listened earlier and worn that large, loose robe, she
wouldn't be so uncomfortable now.
When they arrived at this marketplace-like place, Marita heard a huge cheer welcoming them, and people
stood respectfully together. The servants standing beside Marita bumped arms, pointed and whispered
, all looking towards a high wooden platform. The crowd parted to make way. Qasim ordered the procession
to stop. The servants formed a circle, surrounding the two ladies, but also making room for them to clear
the platform.
Four men dragged a man down the steps; his hands were bound behind his back, but it was clear that the
four men were struggling to pull him. Marita held her breath. The captive was stripped naked and looked
tall, strong, and handsome. He tried to struggle, but was immediately met with shouts. His hands were bound to two thick
wooden posts. He glared contemptuously at the crowd, still struggling.
Marita guessed this man must be a criminal. There was an arrogant expression on his face. He was very close to her:
she could clearly see his gray eyes, clear and bright, filled with aloofness. It was clear he didn't
regret his crime. He raised his chin, proudly puffing out his chest. She suddenly felt a sense of admiration for this man;
he was like a lion, beautiful and dangerous.
Her gaze lingered on his body. Muscular limbs. A well-built chest. The skin on his lower body
was darker than the rest of his body. She was somewhat bewildered; after all, she had never seen a man so naked. His
skin was shiny and glossy.
Looking at the body of a prisoner, a body destined for punishment, would make one somewhat uncomfortable.
But then, Marita strangely heard a voice.
"How amazing, isn't it?" Qasim whispered in her ear.
“Yes, he is outstanding,” she said without hesitation. Then she saw
a fleeting, thoughtful glint flash across Qasim’s profile—was he jealous? How ridiculous. She almost laughed
, but held back. Qasim was not a man to be mocked.
“Do you…do you know what crime this prisoner committed?” she asked.
Qasim laughed. “Of course I know. He’s an escaped slave. His name is Gabriel. He was a
slave of a merchant friend of mine.”
In Martinnick, her father also had slaves, but none had ever escaped. It was a
serious crime, second only to murder. She had harmed Gabriel. The name was fitting, for he was indeed as beautiful as an angel. For
someone like him, being a slave was truly tragic. She felt him staring at her for a moment, brazenly, and for a fleeting moment
she had an urge to pull back her veil, to see his face clearly, and to let him know that she didn’t like this
.
As if reading her mind, Qasim placed his hand on her shoulder. Marita turned to look at him,
noticing a hint of smugness on his face. He licked his lips.
"Have you ever seen someone being beaten?" Qasim asked.
"No. Father never beats our slaves," Marita said.
"Really? That's really strange. You must really want to see such a scene."
She glanced at him fearfully, wondering if she had misheard. "Do you like this kind of thing?"
he grinned. "Exactly. Moderate pain can stimulate the senses. This stimulation isn't just
effective on the person experiencing it. Don't worry too much, he won't be too badly hurt, because that's not the point. Look closer at Gabriel
. You'll understand what I mean."
Marita trembled. Qasim's words reassured her somewhat, but more than anything, they confused her.
A fully armed man carrying a whip descended the steps and approached Gabriel from behind. He placed the whip
behind him, then grabbed his thick hair and forced his head down. Gabriel's chest bulged,
his back arched like a bow, and his buttocks protruded. The fully armed man grinned maliciously, his fleshy hands
groping Gabriel's chest, pinching his pectoral muscles, pulling out his nipples. He repeatedly played with them with his thumb and forefinger, rubbing
and kneading, until they turned reddish-brown.
Marita thought how shameful and humiliating it was to be publicly mocked and insulted like this.
The hairy hand slid down to Gabriel's flat stomach, rubbing repeatedly around his navel. His hand moved further
down, suddenly grabbing something. Gabriel closed his eyes. Marita knew that even if he could ignore it, he
couldn't ignore the cheers of the crowd around him. The hairy hand grabbed his genitals and
yanked them out. The crowd cheered even louder.
It stood there stiffly, the crowd in a frenzy. Gabriel's hair was somewhat disheveled, his head lowered. The
beastly man was still repeatedly fiddling with that thing.
How could he endure it? Marita, still reeling from the shock, thought to herself. Her gaze remained fixed on him, seemingly
unable to look away.
After a while, the man picked up the whip. He stood beside Gabriel, his tongue incessantly licking his thick
lips. Gabriel uttered a curse, and the man burst into laughter, grabbing the thing with one hand and using the other...
The whip lightly struck his inner thigh. All his genitals were exposed. Gabriel was filled with shame. The man continued
to torture him, gently teasing his penis with the end of the whip.
The crowd roared. The man paused for a moment, observed the crowd's reaction, and released his grip. He threw the whip
behind him and slowly walked up behind Gabriel.
"Want more?" he roared, suddenly grabbing Gabriel's buttocks with both hands and forcefully pulling them apart.
His penis became erect again, covered in a patch of dark red blood.
Gabriel's face showed a look of retreat. The crowd became even more excited.
"Hit him! Hit him!" some shouted, the cries growing louder.
The man smiled sinisterly. "Oh, you've had your fill of display, well then," he said.
Marita couldn't take her eyes off Gabriel's face. His high cheekbones made his face appear even thinner, and
his face was flushed with shame. The first lash came down hard, and his face convulsed. His powerful
lips remained tightly shut, as aloof as ever.
Her attention was diverted. His pain made him all the more alluring. Ah, how she longed to hold him in her arms, to
kiss his bruised lips, to caress his wounded body.
She was startled by herself. Where did these thoughts come from? Had she finally understood what Qasim meant
?
Yes. She knew in that instant. Aunt Anna had awakened her sexual instincts. This
feeling had long been dormant. What a shocking discovery! She needed to think it over; there was no time now
.
The whipping began.
The whip cracked, the sound not too loud, seemingly without much force. The crowd stirred. Marita
saw Gabriel's head suddenly turn, but his expression remained unchanged. Another lash struck his waist, leaving
an immediate red welt. Beads of sweat appeared on Bugari's forehead.
She longed to know how he felt. The whipping wasn't very heavy. One lash after another. The crowd behind him could surely
see the red marks on his white skin, a stark contrast of red and white. She watched it all,
feeling a surge of pleasure. Of course, she wanted to see his face even more; it would surely be more striking.
Now the whip struck Gabriel's neck, the blows growing increasingly fierce. He struggled, and Marita saw
the rope binding his hands dig deep into his skin. His fists clenched tightly, his fingers a bloodless
pale white. His chest heaved, his two bronze-brown nipples standing erect. He gasped for breath, his ribs flaring
, his abdomen sunken. His thighs trembled, beads of sweat sliding down them.
She leaned closer to look at his face. It was a distorted face. He couldn't endure such torture. Oh, Gabriel
, you look even more heroic now. Tears welled in her eyes; she longed to kiss his burning face, to brush
away the strand of pale yellow hair that fell across his forehead.
Gabriel's lips trembled. Undoubtedly, his strength crumbled. He lowered his head to his shoulder,
burying his face in his outstretched arms. He groaned, and Marita felt a heat rising between her legs.
"Look at his genitals," Qasim whispered.
She saw it harden further. His scrotum contracted into two hard stones. Undoubtedly, any
woman who saw him would want him. People screamed wildly. She wished they would be quiet; such
a sight could only be appreciated in stillness. Her legs went weak. Each of Gabriel's low
moans was like a hammer blow to her heart. She felt something stuck in her throat.
Qasim smiled gently at her, as if he understood perfectly. His hand encircled her waist, pulling her close, and
he whispered, “I knew bringing you home wouldn’t disappoint me, Marita. Look closely, don’t miss a single
detail. Look at Gabriel’s face. Doesn’t he look like a trapped beast? See how out of control he’s become. He’s powerless against it
. He desperately wants to control himself, to stop these people from getting their way, but he can’t, and everyone
knows that. So they can laugh at him with impunity. They’re here to see this spectacular sight, and seeing
his helplessness makes them even more gleeful. Look at their expressions.”
Indeed. Every face was so hungry. They surrounded him, enjoying his suffering,
yet their eyes held an admiring look. Some were even jealous; the men drooled, their eyes gleaming. A
heavily made-up redheaded woman pulled down her bra, revealing a pair of ripe breasts. She held them, as
if ready to offer them to Gabriel at any moment. She turned and smiled, revealing a set of clean, white teeth, then turned and
walked towards a man dressed as a butcher. He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her breasts passionately, to the cheers of the crowd.
Marita saw out of the corner of her eye that a man lifted a prostitute's skirt and slipped his hand inside. The prostitute half-
heartedly resisted, haggling over the price, but he pounced on her impatiently, letting out a soft moan of pleasure. Various
positions, a naked performance, made Marita blush.
Qasim's face rubbed against her head, his hair already wet and dripping with sweat. Marita felt
a few warm, salty drops fall on her lips, and then she realized that Qasim had removed her veil, revealing
her eyes, nose, and mouth. One hand grabbed her arm, the other caressed her neck, and finally
lifted her chin.
His fingertips touched her lips. She opened her mouth thirstily, and his thumb immediately slipped inside,
intertwining with her tongue. She felt the saltiness of his skin.
Qasim's breathing grew more rapid, and she sensed a change in his body; his eyes burned
, as if every part of his body was brewing an impulse. His angular face looked like
it was carved from stone.
Something was changing within Marita as well. She had never been so excited. All shame was gone;
she even envied the prostitute. She wanted to be possessed, to be conquered. Qasim's thumb moved, and she inhaled deeply
, her tongue tightening around it.
Her eyes still couldn't leave the platform; his lower body had been beaten enough, and it seemed he wouldn't last
much longer.
The whip continued to strike Gabriel's inner thighs, lightly; with the slightest movement, the rope would...
The whip tightened around his wrist. Then it lashed down, striking his scrotum, and he let out a sharp groan, his breathing
becoming heavy and short. His teeth bared, looking both shy and joyful. A low
murmur rippled through the crowd.
"It's coming out, look!" Qasim said, biting Marita's ear as he pulled his thumb from her mouth
.
Every cell in her body throbbed with excitement, her heart racing. Yes, oh, yes!
Gabriel writhed, straining with all his might. His genitals hardened, his scrotum contracted, and
he ejaculated, streams of semen landing on the platform.
"Oh, God!" Marita whispered, opening and closing her eyes.
Those hazy gray eyes swept across her face, slowly becoming focused, their gaze settling on him. She
looked at him intently, silently expressing her admiration. A look of understanding flashed across his face.
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out, and Marita knew he was about to cry.
She felt herself being tormented.
She loved his self-pity, his shame, and the way he was finally defeated. The wooden shackles binding his wrists held
him up; otherwise, he would have given in long ago. She knew he longed for a place to hide, and she knew how much he hated these
lewd stares. Any shelter would be heaven for him. Oh,
how beautiful he was, struggling in agony.
She leaned against the edge of the platform, watching Gabriel. Her gloved hands were between her legs. Suddenly,
a surge of pleasure washed over her, leaving her weak and powerless.
Qasim's strong hands supported her. He knew perfectly well what was happening. He whispered
something. His hand on her waist trembled slightly. He wanted Gabriel too; she sensed it clearly
. This excited her. Could men fall in love? What would they do together?
Qasim and Gabriel. The darkest night and the brightest sun. She imagined their bodies pressed together.
She felt she had discovered a world she had never experienced before, dazzling and beautiful.
She felt utterly weak. Though her body had experienced pleasure, she remained confused. How had all this
happened? The robe clung tightly to her, immobilizing her and making it difficult to breathe. This startled her
. Suddenly, she felt utterly listless and wanted to escape the crowded throng.
But what about poor Gabriel?
She looked at him again. A large drop of semen was sliding down. His chest trembled. He was drenched in
sweat.
The man with the whip walked away, a sneer on his face. The farce was over. She realized this. The whipping wasn't
the main point; there was no blood or welts, at most some slightly reddened areas, and it wouldn't hurt much.
He was punished with humiliation, not a whip.
His master must have known him well, hence the choice. Just as Qasim knew her.
"Oh, Marita, let's get out of here. It's too hot and dirty; it's no good for us
," Qasim said curtly, pulling her away.
Marita turned to look at Gabriel, who was still watching her. She thanked him.
A devilish, eerie smile appeared on his handsome face. Then his head drooped to his chest.
Gabriel looked up at the back of the woman who had been watching him.
He was grateful to her. Her presence had eased some of his torment. It seemed
he had seen her at the very last moment of his climax. That was good. He imagined them alone, and his reaction made
him seem perfect, a feeling he could see in the woman's radiant face, which made him proud.
He didn't care if the crowd was ecstatic about him. He felt he was only devoted to her.
The crowd was irrelevant. She mattered.
She knew this too, and accepted it all silently. She was even grateful to him for it, he could tell from her lips
. Even when he was exhausted and ashamed, he still thought about her. Even after they released him, he
still only thought about her.
Such a perfect face. Those big, bright eyes, as blue as the summer sky. Who was she? He
had never heard of a slave being a prisoner's eye. She was with Qasim, who was her master and
a friend of the jeweler Sheridan.
The merchant often went to Qasim's house to discuss business. If Gabriel could win his favor, he might
take him along. He smiled, and she saw his lips purse. He knew how to please his master. Tonight he would
go and beg Sheridan for forgiveness.
Sheridan wouldn't refuse Gabriel when he was in bed with him.
Ah, then he would have a chance to see the woman. He hoped that day would come soon.
Chapter Three
The crowd quickly dispersed.
The slaves soon gathered around Marita and Krotin again, pushing them forward.
Marita could no longer see Gabriel. The market and the platform were far behind them.
Qasim walked beside her, his arm linked with hers, as if nothing was amiss. But Marita felt his fingers
tighten slightly, quite forcefully. From the side, his expression was stern, his mouth tightly shut. His nose was
straight and prominent, and he seemed to be trying to conceal his inner turmoil.
He was still immersed in the scene from before, she was quite certain of that. The thought thrilled her.
She felt he might tear her clothes off at any moment. This made her inexplicably happy. She liked it, even
welcomed it, but she was a little afraid of Qasim's power.
She was also a little afraid of herself. The docile girl from the convent was gone, a truly
intoxicating transformation. She longed to have a good talk with Krotin, to share her innermost thoughts.
They walked in silence for a while. Gabriel's image and smile floated into her mind. She knew she wouldn't
forget him. But Qasim had a deeper influence on her. Even such a handsome prisoner
couldn't compare to Qasim in her heart.
A fan fluttered over her head, and a warm, salty breeze blew in from the sea. The road was wider here
, and the streets were clean. They passed many large houses with snow-white, towering walls. Ornately decorated balconies protruded...
Come, straight down the street. Soon they came to a stone gate, large and intricately carved. Two
very burly soldiers stood beside it. Hammett knocked on the gate with his cane. The gate opened, and they entered a shady
courtyard. There were many soldiers there, all saluting Qasim.
"Welcome to my home," Qasim bowed to his guests.
"Please use my things."
"Thank you, you're too kind," said Krotin, standing beside Marita.
The servants came out to greet their masters. Marita felt many eyes watching them from outside the window
. A woman's arm slowly reached out. The hand was slender and long, covered with various patterns, and
a gold bracelet adorned her wrist. On her middle finger was a large emerald ring.
Qasim looked at the owner of the hand. He smiled, made a welcoming gesture, and then turned his attention back
to Marita and Krotin.
"Take my guests to the living room," he ordered a servant.
“Let Lila take care of everything for them.”
He took Marita’s gloved hand and kissed it, as did Claude’s.
“I have some business to attend to later. Lila will take you to a bath and make you very comfortable.
I’ll come to the garden to find you when it’s cooler tonight.”
“We’ll await your arrival,” Marita said.
Qasim bowed and walked toward a stone tower. Hammett and the rest of his entourage followed him.
“Please follow me,” said the servant, leading them through an entrance.
Guards stood along the way. At a small bronze door, more guards stood on either side.
“Just how rich is Qasim that he needs so many guards to protect him?” Claude said.
Marita was thinking the same thing. They passed through the bronze door, the soldiers still motionless, none of them glancing at
the two women. The door was pushed open and slammed shut behind them. Marita turned, a
wave of panic washing over her. The heavy sound made her heart sink.
The servant waited patiently and silently beside her until she calmed down and stepped forward.
"What does this mean?" Krotin said.
"I...I don't know. This isn't what I expected. It seems we've been locked up; it's
a strange way of treating guests."
Krotin laughed. "I guess it's the custom here. I feel like I'm dreaming. Kasim
is indeed a protector, don't worry. I just want to take a good bath and relax,
I don't want to think about anything else."
Marita shrugged. Perhaps she was right. She herself certainly needed a good bath to relax
. They walked along a corridor. Many slaves were busy with different tasks, of many
different races, all women or girls, and they barely glanced at Marita and Krotin.
Marita didn't know why, but she felt uncomfortable.
Although the atmosphere was relaxed, somehow Marita thought of the convent. There was a sweet fragrance in the air
. As they passed another courtyard, she glanced at the town through the window; it seemed quite
far away.
They followed the silent servant along countless cobblestone paths until they finally reached the bedroom door. The servant
bowed, indicating they could enter.
Marita parted the beaded curtain and went inside. It was the most beautiful room they had ever seen.
Embroidered silk fabrics covered low sofas, where many women reclined lazily. Some were talking, some
playing games, and some eating sweets. Slaves continuously served them food and drink.
Marita and Claudin were ushered in. The women seemed to stop all activity, their attention entirely focused
on them. Marita was a little nervous, forcing a smile as she greeted them. Marita and Claudin removed their robes and
veils, immediately arousing the women's curiosity. They touched the French-style clothes, looked at the lovely
faces, and fell silent for a moment. After a while, they began to talk loudly, creating a lively scene.
The French clothing and hairstyle seemed utterly incomprehensible to them. The women's hands
roamed curiously over Marita's hair, plucking the small roses from her hair and running their fingers through her curlers, making Marita
very uncomfortable. Her blue eyes were even more striking. She recoiled slightly, smiling brightly, lowering her eyelids,
a blush spreading across her face.
Only one woman stood out, watching her with curiosity, neither touching nor laughing.
Her eyes were large and captivating; she was a true beauty. An oval face, almond-shaped eyes, and dark
pupils as deep and unfathomable as a pool of water. Her hair was styled in a glossy black
bun, adorned with a ruby brooch. Her fair skin contrasted sharply with her bright red lips.
After a while, the woman stood up, clapped her hands, and gestured for quiet. The noise subsided.
"I am Lila," the woman said. “Qasim sent me to take care of you until you’re comfortable here
. May I know your names?”
they introduced themselves. Krotin found the thought of Qasim’s wealth incredible.
“We won’t be staying long,” she said. “Once the itinerary is arranged, we’ll go to Martinnick.”
Some of the women exchanged meaningful glances. Lila stopped them with a look. She smiled. “Of
course, but you’re guests now, so we must treat you well. The most important thing right now is to eat something
, rest, and then I’ll take you to your rooms and give you a bath.”
She clapped her hands. Marita and Krotin were led to a soft, comfortable sofa.
The slaves brought food, placed on an intricately carved wooden plate. Without utensils, Marita didn’t know how to
eat. Lila noticed her embarrassment, put her hand in the plate, and gestured for them to do the same.
Marita was starving and ate almost everything laid out before her. The food was delicious; the fish was
very fresh, the rice was fragrant, and the frozen juice made her feel completely refreshed. After the meal, they
washed their hands in water that smelled of roses. One woman began to play an instrument, and the other began to sing.
Krotin reclined comfortably on the sofa. Beside her sat a tray filled with sweets. There
was also something strange, like a copper lamp with a snake carved into it. Lila said it was a hookah. Marita
watched the women smoking with relish, puzzled. They offered it to Krotin. She tentatively took
a puff, found it to her liking, and began to smoke boldly.
"Try it, Marita, it's fun. The tobacco is fragrant and cool."
Marita bent down to smoke.
"I'll take you to a bath," Lila said. "Krotin, stay here and relax. You're quite a rare
guest,"
Krotin said lazily, waving her hookah. "Go ahead, Marita, I'll be back in a bit."
She was completely absorbed in the wonderful sensation. The women looked at her with admiration, gently stroking her reddish-gold hair, constantly praising her. She wore a gold necklace 　　that glittered
against her fair skin .
A woman removed a blue ribbon from her hand and tied it around Claude's wrist; it looked quite
beautiful.
"Your skin tone is rare here," Lila said to Marita. "You'll thrive here,
but you might also attract the envy of others. Come with me, I'll protect you."
Protect her what? Marita was puzzled and opened her mouth to ask. But Lila had already walked ahead.
A thick, colorful carpet covered the ground, and although they walked quickly, their footsteps were barely audible. Claude
suddenly burst into laughter, her voice drifting over. It seemed this comfortable and peaceful place had already
made her reluctant to leave.
"Come, Marita," Lila said, her voice melodious and soft. "I'll take you to a
paradise where you'll forget all your worries and fears. In the fragrant water, you'll feel endless
joy, all your weariness will vanish, and all your tension will disappear without a trace."
This was exactly what Marita longed for. She followed Lila, overjoyed.
"This is the Paradise Bathhouse," Lila said. "It's more than just a place to bathe; here we completely
relax, body and soul, and all our worries vanish. It's a woman's paradise; men are not allowed here."
Marita's house didn't have such a fine bathroom. A fragrant aroma filled the spacious hall. Tall
pillars reached the roof, painted with colorful patterns, and the walls and floors were inlaid with floral tiles. In the center of the hall
was a low-lying pool.
Many women were in this hall, each attended by a slave. Some were half-naked, some completely naked; some
swam in the pool, some dried their hair on the shore, or chatted in small groups.
They were all beautiful.
A woman approached Lila. She wore only a loose robe and slippers,
a jeweled belt loosely tied around her waist. She was voluptuous. With one hand on her hip, she said something intimately to Lila
and then burst into laughter, her whole body shaking with mirth.
Marita lowered her eyelids, too embarrassed to stare any longer. She had never seen so many naked women.
In the convent, they all wore heavy robes when bathing. Any physical contact
was met with reprimand, so when she saw the woman kissing Lila's lips, she was utterly stunned. The woman
then slowly walked away in her slippers.
Lila turned and smiled at Marita. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Come on, take off your clothes. Go
wash up first, then lie down and relax, have some juice, and chat."
Two maids stood waiting nearby. They were also naked, with large metal collars around their necks.
The slaves helped Lila remove her robe. Her perfect curves immediately caught Marita's eye, and for some
reason, she suddenly thought of Gabriel. Their figures were both so perfect. Lila had long limbs and fair, clean skin
. She had a full bust and a slender waist. Marita looked at her body with envy, noticing that she
had no body hair.
She realized she was staring unabashedly at her lower body. That area was smooth and completely
exposed. Marita was both surprised and curious.
Lila noticed what she was looking at, but didn't seem to mind. She turned around and said without any modesty, "I
'm beautiful, aren't I? Do you like me? Marita, that's good, because I think you're beautiful too. We can
please each other."
Her words seemed nonsensical, as if implying something. Marita was both pleased and afraid.
Marita's clothes were also removed, and Lila moved closer to look at her body. Marita instinctively shifted
, extremely unnaturally. But after a while, she relaxed and no longer avoided those dark eyes. In
a place like this, where everyone was naked, being coy was ultimately a foolish thing to do. But
when the last bit of covering was removed, her hands still unconsciously covered her lower body.
Lila chuckled softly. "Don't be shy," she said. "Let me see."
She grabbed Marita's wrists and gently but firmly moved them aside. Marita blushed and desperately tried to cover herself. The two little maids watched and chuckled softly. Lila 　　looked at her body
with a scrutinizing gaze , and she felt extremely embarrassed. 　　"Ah, you are truly beautiful. Such beautiful breasts, high and round, with such red and 　　soft nipples, who wouldn't want to touch and kiss them? Your waist is so slender! Is that something you're wearing 　　a corset? You are so perfect." 　　She made Marita turn halfway around. "Your hips are also full. Your thighs are long and strong. Why are you 　　so shy? You have a perfect body; just touching it would bring immense satisfaction 　　." 　　Marita felt her cheeks burning. No one had ever spoken to her so bluntly, nor had she ever 　　done anything as Lila described. But she could sense the pleasure Lila spoke of; Sister Anna had made her feel it. 　　She couldn't deny that she was pleased to hear these words; Lila thought she was beautiful. Lila herself was beautiful, too 　　. A vague, distant memory stirred within her. That rigid, stiff old nun had repeatedly toyed with…

Lila's eyes were fixed on her naked body, and she felt a surge of heat.
Lila examined every inch of her skin with an almost admiring and playful gaze, and Marita seemed
to glean some interest from it as well. This was different from the situation in the convent. She felt a new, proud
feeling welling up inside her. The expressions of the two little slave girls were curious and admiring, which made her feel
even more special.
"Your genitals are truly captivating," Lila said. "So unusual. Here, if you
have body hair, it's considered a sin. But I love how it can hide so many secrets. Your womanly
secrets are so deeply hidden, only visible up close, or perhaps even touched—how lovely
. Captivating, so incredibly captivating."
She gently stroked it with her delicate fingers. Her fingers coiled around a tuft of downy hair, her fingertips digging inside
. Marita stared, speechless, forgetting to push Lila's hand away.
Lila withdrew her hand and smiled. “I’ve gotten a little carried away. We’re in the bathroom.
We’ll talk about it later… later. Come on.”
Lila put on a pair of high-heeled slippers. Marita sat down and followed her, slowly pondering her words
. Did she also need to shave all her body hair? It seemed to be the custom here, and she decided she would never submit. As
a guest, there was no need to be bound by the customs here.
Lila and Marita went into a bathroom next door. Two young slave girls followed behind them, carrying towels,
perfume, and oil. Contrary to Marita’s expectations, there weren’t many large tubs of hot water in the bathroom. Along the stone wall were
several deep basins. Turning on the steel faucets overhead, hot water flowed continuously into the basins. Through
a crack in the archway, one could see a large pool in the next room.
Lila and Marita sat on a bench that resembled a wicker trunk.
“I’ll help you wash,” Lila said in her clear voice, picking up a silver bowl and splashing perfume on
Marita’s shoulders. "I'll let you experience the wonders of this bathroom, beautiful girl."
The water was hot, but Marita quickly adapted. What made her a little uneasy was
the feeling of Lila's soft hands caressing her skin. Lila sat behind her with her legs spread apart, applying a fragrant
ointment to her arms and slowly rubbing it down her body. She rubbed Marita's back, down to her buttocks,
rubbing one side with each hand, scrubbing vigorously.
Marita felt a slight pressure in her lower body. Her buttocks swayed, making her genitals stir
, seemingly moving closer to Lila with each rub. The warm steam seeped into her
groin, and the bench beneath her was cool and hard. All of this gave Marita a pleasurable urge. Marita
felt a little uneasy and moved slightly away.
"What's wrong? Don't you like it?"
"No... I like it."
Lila laughed. "Oh, you want to give me the same pleasure, don't you? Maybe you think I'm exhausted,
serving you like a slave. But I like it this way... Wait, I know what we should do."
She stood up, turned around, and sat down facing Marita. "How about this, so we can please each other
."
Lila's attention shifted to Marita, and she began applying a cream to her neck, shoulders, and chest
. When she reached her breasts, Lila had an urge to hold them tightly. Marita panicked
, instinctively dipping her hand into the bowl, smearing some of the cream on her arms, neck
, and shoulders.
But this didn't calm her down; on the contrary, Lila's alabaster skin made her even more flustered. Marita
focused her attention on Lila's body, her mind blank. She couldn't see the smile on Lila's face, only
that her lips were slightly parted, her pale cheeks flushed, and her dark eyes gleaming.
Marita followed Lila's every move, as if hypnotized. Their movements were like
dancing, and through the thick steam, she saw others equally lost in their ecstasy. Couples
splashed water on each other, some washing each other's hair. There seemed to be sounds nearby—
the rustling of skin and soft moans, filled with desire.
Marita dared not look at these women. Yet, her own heart was filled with desire. The air was thick with a woman's
musky scent. This feeling enveloped her.
"You touch me so gently, Marita," Lila whispered.
Marita couldn't answer; her mouth was dry. Whenever she concentrated, she couldn't resist
the pleasurable sensation of Lila's caresses. Her breasts swelled, her nipples hard and pointed. The thick steam enveloped
them, isolating them from the rest of the world.
Droplets splattered on Lila's black hair like silver streaks across the black night sky. Her face turned
to the side, revealing the straight, prominent contours of her nose. Her lips were full, slightly parted, exuding
an indescribable allure. A reddish-brown line traced her fair skin at the corner of her mouth—a mark of lipstick.
Lila bit her lower lip, revealing a set of pearly white teeth.
Marita trembled. She had never found a woman's body so irresistible, nor had she ever experienced
such pleasure.
Though she knew she should stop, she couldn't restrain herself. Lila's nipples were hard beneath her palm.
Covered in perfume, they looked like cherries soaking in milk. Lila's lovely lips were slightly
puffed out, tempting one to kiss them. A drop of water dripped from her breast, landing in Marita's hand.
Lila leaned slightly towards Marita, shyly tilting her head against her, revealing a small, shallow dimple below her throat
. Marita felt an urge to lean down and lick that dimple. Water droplets slid down Lila's face
, wetting her eyebrows, then down her cheeks to her lips. Strands of black hair fell across her forehead. "
This can't go on," Marita thought again. But the feeling was too wonderful, and Lila was completely absorbed
in it. Who would see? Her body was full of vitality, her skin smooth and delicate.
Lila tilted her head back and smiled sweetly. Her hand slid over Marita's breasts, paused for a moment, then slid down to the center of her
thighs.
Marita trembled. The perfumed finger slid down to her genitals, parted the hair, and
gently rubbed against her, soon penetrating deeper, tenderly teasing her.
Marita closed her eyes and let out a pleasurable moan.
"No...no!" she whispered, but her back arched, and her legs spread wider. She
involuntarily cooperated with Lila's hand.
Lila's eyes were filled with laughter. "No? My lovely Marita," she said, her hands not stopping
. "Your reason says no, but your body says yes. Do as you please, try to feel every bit of pleasure
, like me. Time here is so long, boredom is our greatest enemy. Why not relax and
enjoy yourself?"
Marita returned to normal. She laughed, suddenly feeling a stirring of desire, and her courage grew.
"You mean, like this?" she teased.
Lila murmured in a voice filled with lust, "Yes, it's heavenly bliss."
She mumbled something. "Do you like it?"
Her fingers moved in and out of Marita's body. Marita couldn't concentrate on what she was saying. She only knew that
she made some clear sounds, but couldn't grasp their meaning. Her whole body convulsed, in
rhythm with Lila's fingers.
Ah, how alluring she was.
"My beautiful girl, do the same to me," Lila said. "Do you know how long I've waited?
Under your touch, I'm like a ripe fruit, juicy and ready to burst with juice. Yes
, like this. Part it. Gently rub there. Oh, yes, like this. Gently, right here. Darling
, this fruit ripened for you. How wonderful. I've given you everything I gave to Qasim."
"Qasim?" Marita mumbled, only thinking about what Lila was doing to her.
Then Lila's fingers slipped inside her again. She spoke words of passion, as beautiful as poetry,
that pierced Marita's ears.
Marita loved the feeling of her hand on Lila. Her body undulated slightly, smooth, wet, and fiery
hot. She smelled of salty jasmine, making Marita slightly dizzy.
Lila relaxed and laughed. "You're wonderful. Your body is like a pearl. Perhaps we can
persuade Kasim to play this game with us. Would you like to do that?"
Marita began to understand Lila's meaning. A word that had already surfaced in her mind again, making
her feel awkward. Harem!
Harem! That's why she felt so uncomfortable. This sudden realization stung her. She felt a chill run through her, and her desire
vanished.
She roughly pulled her fingers out of Lila's body. Lila groaned in disappointment, and Marita pushed Lila's
hand away, standing up abruptly.
"Take your hand away!" she said coldly. “I can wash myself. Let me tell you again, Krotin and
I are guests here, not wives or concubines. We will be leaving soon. We are not concubines in the harem. I think
Qasim sent you here to please me, didn’t he? Don’t expect me to be seduced by the comforts and wealth here. He
wants me to stay here, doesn’t he? So he can have his fun with me, like a prostitute?”
She stopped, her blue eyes burning. Lila’s lips trembled.
“You are indeed as beautiful as an angel. I don’t deny that I am attracted to you. But I warn you, I will
not sell myself for desire! Neither you nor Qasim, I will never fall for your tricks again!”
Marita grabbed the towel and turned to leave. For a moment, she saw a hurt and confused look on Lila’s face.
Maybe it wasn’t her fault, she hoped. She liked Lila. Not just liked, even trusted her. But
her mind was in turmoil, unable to think clearly.
Lila called after her. Her voice was hoarse, as if suppressing her emotions.
“You’ve entered Qasim’s harem. He’s the local governor of Algil, the master of this place. He
’s a wealthy and powerful man. You can’t say ‘no’ to him. No one can escape from here. Resistance is
futile. You’d better accept your fate, like me. Only the most beautiful women are allowed here.
It’s your honor that Qasim has chosen you. Accept your fate.”
Marita was speechless for a moment. She now knew how foolish she had been. Krotin and she were not Qasim’s honored
guests at all. It was clear. Qasim was a collector of beauties. He had mentioned it before, and she had been
too stupid to understand!
Now she knew.
Krotin and she herself were Qasim’s prey.
Chapter Four
In the garden, soft lights shone.
The shadows of lemon trees were cast among the roses and lilies. Peacocks paced around the fountain, scavenging
grains scattered on the ground by the women. Marita closed her eyes, listening intently to
the beautiful music drifting from one of the windows above. A nightingale sang sweetly in its gilded cage.
The atmosphere was peaceful and serene, yet she was troubled, preoccupied with how Qasim had deceived her and
Krotin. She sat among a pile of cushions, waiting patiently. It was said that Qasim was coming to the harem tonight.
"It was your and Krotin's presence that drew him here. He's like a moth drawn to the light, and you
are his light," Lila said. "The other women are glad you're here, because you're a very
strong contender. They think that once Qasim arrives, he'll choose one of them to serve him."
Marita didn't answer, only nodded stiffly. Seeing Lila's cautious smile, her
heart softened. It wasn't Lila's fault. It was Qasim's fault, and her own. Lila, dressed in dark green
, looked very beautiful. Her face was a pale green, framing her black hair like undulating waves
. Her dark eyes glanced at Marita every now and then, a pleading look for forgiveness in them.
At first, Marita avoided her gaze, but then her heart softened. She raised her chin and straightened her
head, but still didn't intend to speak to her.
Lila's hand was tapping her knee.
She was deeply troubled. She kept stealing glances at Marita, who sat ramrod straight, her face contorted with
unwavering rage. The glint in Marita's blue eyes was like a sharp arrow, piercing her deeply. Marita must
hate her for her advances.
Yes, she knew Qasim had seduced these two young girls.
Who, except for slaves bought in the market, would willingly live such a life of confinement? Even slaves wouldn't want to. She was lost in memories…
She would tell Marita her story someday, if Marita would forgive her.
She had her own reasons for approaching Marita. At first, she felt guilty towards this lovely woman. She knew
how devastating it would be for Marita to discover she could never leave this place. Krotin wouldn't feel that way
. Marita would discover how painful and long this path of passive acceptance was.
Lila saw a reflection of her past self in Marita, a time when she was younger and more
innocent than Marita. So she was very kind to Marita, instructing her on what to do and helping her adapt
to life here as quickly as possible, minimizing the emotional impact on her. That was her initial intention.
But when she saw Marita's naked body, a strange desire arose within her, a urge to arouse
the lust beneath her smooth skin. But she was completely wrong; Marita believed she was Qasim's accomplice. Perhaps in a
sense, that was true, but not really.
The truth was, she had almost fallen in love with this French woman.
Lila glanced at Marita out of the corner of her eye. She was still so beautiful, with a captivating charm, even
in her ugly and ridiculous French clothes.
Claude sat lazily among a pile of cushions, eating desserts. Her fingers were sticky, and she patiently
licked them clean one by one.
Marita was quite annoyed. She thought Claude would share her anger, but Claude seemed completely
unconcerned.
Qasim arrived late, and many people were already tired of waiting. They lay sprawled, their clothes disheveled
. Qasim's arrival caused a commotion.
He strode into the courtyard, looking radiant. He held a gold chain in one hand and a
leather whip in the other. A naked woman was chained to the chain. Her face was flushed, and her eyes were filled with tears.
The whip marks on her abdomen and thighs were clearly visible.
The women rushed over, chattering welcomes to Qasim. The chained woman stopped and
lowered her head.
Marita concealed her shock and remained seated. Qasim walked through the group of women to her side, and
sat down with a tolerant smile.
"Sit down," he commanded the chained woman, slamming it down so she fell to the ground.
"Sit like this again. Legs apart, do you want to be punished again?"
She lowered her eyes and did as he said. Marita watched in astonishment as she sat cross-legged, knees spread, facing
her and Qasim. Although her head was bowed, her back remained straight, and her chest was firm. She had a smooth abdomen
and strong thighs, and like Lila, her pubic hair was completely gone. There were also whip marks between her thighs.
Marita looked at her reddened skin and felt a little excited.
Qasim glanced at the woman on the ground and fiddled with his gold chain. "Feeling better?" he said gently. "Legged
like that. You don't need to cook tomorrow."
He turned to Marita and spoke in his usual tone. "I can tell you're being served
very well. Good. Judging from your angry expression, I think you know where you are. Did Lila tell
you?"
The woman on the ground made Marita momentarily stunned, unable to think of a reply. Lila spoke up.
"Forgive me. I couldn't control my mouth. This...this is the harem. I didn't mean to...I
was just captivated by the beauty of the newcomer."
Qasim chuckled dryly. “I understand. But that’s no excuse. You know what to do.”
Lila lowered her head, her face flushed. “Please, not now. In front of so many people…”
Kasim’s eyes blazed. “You dare to bargain! You deserve to be punished for that.”
Lila bit her lower lip. She slowly stood up, glancing at Marita pleadingly.
Marita said, “She did nothing wrong, she just told the truth. You’re in a bigger mistake, you know? You
tricked me and Krotin into coming here.” As she spoke, her anger rose. “It’s all your
fault. How dare you punish Lila!”
The women around held their breath. They glared at Marita and whispered amongst themselves
. Kasim’s mouth tightened. Then he grinned.
“Tricked?” He seemed to find it ridiculous. “Oh, no. I won’t lie to you, dear
Marita. I will always keep my promises. But don’t you think you’re being hypocritical? I see
the hunger in your eyes.”
“Can you honestly admit that you only want to be a guest?”
She couldn’t look him in the eye. His words were too blunt, and what was infuriating was that he was right. She
hated him at that moment. Her tongue tasted bitter, yet she was still stubbornly determined to have him. She decided to
hide this desire in her heart, never letting him know how madly she loved him. A flame of lust burned within her,
but she would never let it ignite. She raised her head, having the courage to face him.
But she soon realized that this victory was utterly meaningless. He had let her win this round.
His face twisted, a merciless expression appearing on his lips. She found herself unable to anger him,
unable to move him at all. He wouldn’t let her go with Krotin, and a wave of panic washed over her, leaving her helpless.
Had she to give in? She clenched her hands to keep them from trembling. She felt a thorn in her side, a deep unease running through her.
A naked woman lay prostrate at Qasim's feet. He tugged at his chain, his face grim. She crawled over, kissing
Qasim's robe, her buttocks raised high. He kicked her away. Marita shuddered, snapping back to
reality.
What would he do to Lila?
"Will you forgive Lila?" she asked after a moment, trying to make her tone calm and natural.
Qasim laughed gleefully. "You're so cute, so stubborn. You're different from the women in the harem.
You're very angry with me, very angry, but you've hidden it. You still want to protect Lila?" He chuckled again
.
"She won't appreciate it, you'll find out eventually. But remember this. It will be very useful to you;
no one can stop my desire."
Though he smiled, his eyes remained sharp. She remembered the incident on the ship, how rough it had been then.
Qasim was like a diamond; no matter which angle she looked at, she could only see one side, while she herself
was already clearly refracted.
Qasim turned to look at Lila, who was undressing. Her head was lowered, her face flushed to the roots of her neck, her
green velvet dress slipping to the floor. She was only wearing thin silk trousers and a shirt that dragged on her knees. The shirt was as thin
as a cicada's wing, revealing her dark red nipples.
Qasim asked, "Ready?"
No one spoke; everyone looked at Lila. Soon she was completely naked, her long hair hanging down.
Qasim said softly, "Come here."
She crawled over tremblingly, prostrating herself at his feet, kissing his toes. He lazily coiled her hair
into a long, black rope, pulling her to her knees. Without being told, she parted her knees and bent over.
She made a sound, a low moan, somewhere between pleading and groaning.
Qasim grinned, his eyes gentle. "Good, Lila. You're very obedient. But this won't save
you. Beg me!" he whispered.
Lila swallowed. Her throat was constricted by Qasim's hair. It tightened slightly, and she
whispered in a lustful voice, "Please, no, oh, please."
Qasim raised his whip, flicking the end at her nipples. Lila writhed like a mare in heat
, and he moved the whip to her lower abdomen, teasingly tapping her thighs.
“Tell me, where should I begin?” he said, bending down to kiss her straight nose.
She didn’t answer, and he laughed again.
“Then I’ll decide.” He released her hair. “Bend over.”
Lila was a little hesitant, but she didn’t dare refuse. Her eyelids were already flushed. The women watched, and as Lila
lay flat on the floor, they gathered closer. It was as if they all knew something was going to happen, as if it were commonplace.
Marita realized that this was probably routine for them, and the thought made her heart clench. She was very
confused, wondering whether to look away. Then she saw Lila’s posture and couldn’t help but gasp. Lila
’s hands were on the ground, placed on either side of her head, her weight all on her upper body, her legs spread apart, standing upright, her
long black hair cascading down the floor. Her whole body was like a bow.
Marita panicked; Lila’s lower body was completely exposed. Marita remembered the scene in the bathroom.
Kasim held his breath and slowly approached Lila, the whip tapping lightly against her boots, standing between her parted thighs
.
He said, "You're beautiful, my little Lila. Your dancer-like body will soon taste
the flavor of my whip."
He gently placed his hands on her chest, slowly moving to her breasts, pinching her rosy nipples. He rested two fingers
on her chin. She breathed heavily.
"This is submission," he said, turning to Marita. "Wherever and whoever they are, I
find these things in these women. They all yearn for my favor, Marita. Yes, I
know it puzzles you greatly, this enslavement may frighten you. But it's true, they do it willingly
. Soon you will be like them, I can see your desire in you."
She was speechless. He was too insightful.
With a wave of his other hand, he dismissed the women beside him. They trotted out of the house, letting out a few
disappointed sighs, but none dared to stay.
"You go too," he gestured to the chained woman. She sat in an inconspicuous corner,
her head still bowed. "Only Marita and Claude can stay. I want them to understand me better."
Marita stood up abruptly, wanting to leave the garden with the other women.
"You're being unreasonable!" she said.
"You can order your women around, but you can't order me around. I'm a free French woman, independent and
self-reliant. I don't want to stay and watch your performance. Claude, are you leaving?"
Claude hesitated. She looked at Qasim, then at Marita. Clearly, she was eager to see how things unfolded
. Before she could move, Qasim spoke.
"Stop!" he said firmly. "If you leave, Lila will be punished even more severely."
Marita turned away. He had her weakness. Oh, he was too clever, clever as a devil.
"Do I really have to?" she groaned.
Krotin's eyes gleamed, her cheeks flushed. Hearing Qasim's words, she sat down
next to Lila's knee. He gestured to Marita, and she slowly sat down on the other side.
Qasim raised his whip and lightly struck Lila's stomach. She remained silent,
red welts appearing on her fair skin. The whip swished through the air.
Qasim's attention then shifted to Lila's thighs, and he began to strike her groin. Lila's calves trembled, and
her lower body became wet. Marita smelled a fragrance emanating from her genitals. It was a sweet, floral scent mixed with
an intoxicating musky aroma.
He began to whip her genitals. Not too hard, but it already made her moan incessantly. Marita saw that she
wanted to struggle, but ultimately dared not move. Her moans were a mixture of pain and pleasure.
Sweat beaded on Marita's back.
Qasim reached out and touched her genitals, pinching and pressing them. Lila's lower body twitched and contracted, seemingly thirstily
awaiting the insertion of his fingers.
Kasim bent down, his mouth close to her genitals, licking them with his tongue. Lila moaned again, a
sound of pleasure. He quickly raised his head and again raised the whip to lightly tap that spot.
Marita wanted to shout for him to stop, yet at the same time, she wanted him to continue. She didn't want to stay here. How she
wished she were Lila! The two thoughts fought fiercely within her… and she had unconsciously acquiesced.
This way. Her face burned, and her lower body involuntarily writhed.
Qasim said with satisfaction, "Everything is just what you want, isn't it, my dear Lila? This kind of punishment
makes you burn with desire, doesn't it? Do you need me to hit you harder?"
Lila twisted her body. Her long hair fell over her face, somewhat muffled her moans.
Qasim turned the whip, grasped the tip, and exposed the handle. The handle was thick and covered with leather. He pulled the handle
in and out of her body. Lila's legs trembled violently, and she swayed precariously.
"Help her up, support her to stand up," Qasim commanded breathlessly.
Marita and Krotin went over and helped her up. Marita's trembling fingers touched her buttocks, burning hot
and trembling incessantly. Qasim pulled out the handle and began to hit her lower body with slightly more force. Her genitals
were red and swollen. Lila squirmed, sobbing, and flinched. Her head twisted and turned, her hair
flying wildly.
"Enough," Kasim said. His face was flushed. "Alright, Lila, I forgive you."
He turned to Marita. "See? What a merciful master I am! I only
do this to my most beloved. Isn't this a solemn ritual of punishment? Others would love to have it.
Life in the harem has turned many women into sheep. They've forgotten what resistance is. Lila
is an exception. She was bought from the slave market and trained by me. I will train
you the same way, which is why I treat you so differently."
"When you stood trembling on the deck, I already decided I wanted you. I may use force
to mold you into a docile and elegant woman for the harem. Krodin probably won't have much trouble
, but you, Marita… you're hard to control. But one day you will submit."
His words terrified her, but she had no time to think about them.
As he spoke, Qasim loosened his belt. He pulled down his trousers, revealing his penis. He picked it up and patiently played
with it, as if waiting for something. After a while, he released his grip, and Marita saw that it was now erect
, a dark reddish-brown, as if it had been whipped. It looked strong and powerful, reminding her of
Gabriel.
Marita felt a surge of excitement. It was surrounded by a thick layer of hair, indicating that the ban on body hair
didn't apply to him. This pleased Marita. The hair made him even more attractive and arousing.
Marita looked at Lila jealously. Her legs were spread, ready to be caressed.
Lila seemed to know what Qasim was going to do; she pleaded with him in a low voice, begging for his forgiveness. But
her voice was particularly suggestive, sounding less like a plea and more like a seduction.
"Qasim, please, I can't take it anymore,"
he laughed from his throat, bending his knees and shifting his weight entirely onto Lila, his muscles
trembling. He thrust inside her.
He commanded, "Listen, straighten your arms. Forget your pain. This is the final command."
He still didn't want to let her go. The punishment continued. Her body responded to her master. Marita
watched all this, bewildered. Every subtle movement of Lila's naked body didn't escape her eyes
, even her genitals were clearly visible.
He thrust deeply into her, his movements slowing. He closed his eyes, his mouth tightly shut.
Lila groaned loudly. Marita felt her own body stirring. Her face flushed, she felt
utterly humiliated. She was furious, almost driven mad, at Qasim for forcing her to witness such a lewd act
. She wanted to escape this place, never to see this naked man and woman again. At the same time,
she truly needed to find a place to hide her aroused desire.
He warned Marita that he would treat her the same way, until she finally submitted to him.
But was this so-called punishment truly something everyone desired? Marita did indeed harbor
a certain desire, but she would never let anyone know.
Lila's moans changed, becoming soft and gentle.
"Almost there, my Lila, almost there," Qasim panted.
Qasim's arms encircled Lila's waist. Marita hesitated, while
a restless light shone on Krotin's lovely face. She bit her lip, trying to hide her excitement.
Lila let out a long moan. Her hips relaxed, and Qasim stopped. Sweat slid down his face.
Lila lay there contentedly. He seemed to be blocked by something unpleasant, a troubled
expression on his face. Ah, he looked like a wounded beast.
After a while, Qasim withdrew, his penis still erect. Marita realized he hadn't ejaculated. He had
controlled himself so precisely, stopping at the very last moment.
Qasim leaned forward, his face resting on her soft, smooth belly. After a while, he straightened up.
"You can let her go now," he said, straightening his clothes.
Krotin and Marita gently laid Lila down. Luckily they were there to support her, or she would have fallen. She lay
there, took a few deep breaths, then looked at the two women beside her. She got up and went to Qasim.
Qasim was already sitting on a sofa.
She took Qasim's foot and kissed it, whispering with deep affection, "Thank you, my master. My
life, oh, thank you."
Tears welled in her eyes as she knelt and poured Qasim a glass of shaved ice, handing it to him. Her posture was as Marita
had seen her earlier: back straight, head bowed, knees apart. Her long, black hair rippled like waves, cascading
down her chest to her knees.
Qasim smiled and lifted her chin. He gently wiped away the tears from her face, his fingers lightly touching her
lips.
"Alright, my little Lila. I have a task for you. Marita and Krotin are yours to train.
I want them to master some of the art of pleasure. In a few weeks, I will be hosting a banquet for some of my friends,
and those two will be serving me then. If either of them fails to win my favor, you..."
"They will all be punished. Remember my words, and then you will be punished just as you are today."
Lila felt a sweet shiver run through her. "Your wish will come true."
Krotin watched all this, his eyes filled with admiration. Qasim smiled at her and beckoned her over, and
she obediently sat on his lap.
Marita could no longer bear it. Her lower body was burning, betraying the secret she had always denied.
Qasim looked at her, his dark eyes unmoving.
"The first thing Lila did for you was to find you some nice clothes, and I don't want to see these
clothes anymore." He said, making a gesture of ending. Marita panicked. He was trying 　　to force her to submit little by little
by changing her lifestyle . 　　She felt he could see right through her. But he could never see the most sacred part of her heart. 　　She would fight him to the end. 　　She told herself resolutely, with a confidence she didn't know where it came from. 　　Qasim grinned. She saw victory, and she was very confident. But she was destined to be powerless. 　　She turned and fled the garden.

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【The Prisoner of Desire】(The End) 【Author: Cleo Corday】

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