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In the Seraglio: part ten

Midsummer night's scene

That special night, with the banquet, the English poet, Will, and what had occurred between myself and my beloved Jess, afterward, lived long in my mind. As things transpired, it was the beginning of the road to a future which, at that time, I could never have imagined.

It would be at least three months before the English would return to Istanbul. By then the potential heir to the Empire, the son of the Circassian concubine, Irene, would have been born. That would mark the point at which the Grand Vizier, who was her great patron, would feel able to increase his influence by committing the Ottoman Empire to an alliance with the Catholic Empire, a success which would mean that the Sultan would be in the hands of those who, from my point of view, were hostile.

I was the least of the concubines of the Sultan, conspicuous only in two ways: the first was that I was the only member of the Seraglio over the age of sixteen who was still a virgin, and the second was that I was the Sultan's pet story-teller. The two phenomena were connected. My own patron was the Sultan's mother, Calliope. Quietly, and discreetly, I had two female lovers in addition: Svetlana, a woman from Rus, who had come with me to Istanbul; and my slave/companion, Jess, who was my favourite.

The Circassian party, which looked to Irene and her friend, Alexandra, to promote their cause, saw the old regime, Calliope, and the Sultana, Roxanne, as women to be swept out of the way to make their influence supreme. If they got their way, our fate would not be enviable. As one of my lesser roles was to prepare Alexandra for her nights of passion with the Sultan, I was privy to their plans. They did not imagine that a virgin who looked like a child, could possibly understand them, especially when they spoke in their own tongue; but they were wrong; it was our one good card. But it was our only real card, and we had played it via my initiative to the English, that they should seek to ally with Muscovy.

An alliance between England and Muscovy would give the Sultan cause for concern, were he to ally with the Catholic Empire. He would risk dragging the Empire into a war for which it was not ready. The martial prowess of the Empire was still great, but a succession of Sultans who cared more for the harem than for war was already beginning to have its effect. It was for that reason that Mehmet welcomed the news from Syria.

Damascus was the greatest city in the Empire, after Istanbul and Alexandria. The taking of Egypt in 1517 had made the Empire the dominant sea power in the Middle Sea. Attempts could be made to drive the Catholic Empire from the area, but the presence in Syria of Catholic missions provided a possible entry point for a new Crusade against Islam. So the region mattered. The news that the Druze, one of the many religious groups in the area, had refused to pay their taxes and risen in revolt in their stronghold of Mount Lebanon, was a signal to arms.

The matter should have been dealt with by the local governor, but since it was his mismanagement which had caused the revolt, the Sultan had him strangled and decided to intervene himself. Refusing to be without female company, even on a military campaign, he selected a group of his concubines to go with him. I was chosen, but for other skills, and Jess, of course, would go with me.

Calliope, the Sultan's mother, and my protector, offered to intervene, but I said that it was an opportunity for me to work on Mehmet while he was away from the Circassians. Irene, who was near her term, could not possibly travel.

The night before we left, I comforted my adopted mother; or to be precise, Jess and I did.

Jess had no more station than being my slave, but her sexual manner with me was such that I was, effectively hers. Even though my mind sometimes said no, my body responded to her promptings. She did not, of course, try such a thing with Calliope; she would have received the shortest of shrifts. She suggested that as a going away treat, she might offer something special to her. As was her way, the content of it would be revealed only that evening.

Sultan Mehmet had grown laxer on the subject of Sapphic love. Given the fact that he enjoyed watching me prepare some of his other wives for his use, he could hardly claim to be opposed to the practice, or, indeed, the idea. But the Imams were a different matter, and so even in the Seraglio, we kept our love-making to our private quarters. Calliope's sumptuous apartments were the safest of safe places. In was thence Jess and I went after our evening games.

'Mama,' Jess said, having adopted my way of referring to the mother of the Sultan, did you see little Pixie Rahab playing with the dollies this afternoon?'

She was referring to our daily sport, where a group of us, the sister of Sappho, we called ourselves in private, would play with our figurines and toys, and enjoy ourselves in relaxing as though we were much younger, and had only the cares of children.

'I did, my dear, she was so adorable.'

'She was Mama, but do you think she looked as though she was old enough to play our games tonight?'

I was not sure where this was going, nor was Calliope, but she played along.

'Perhaps not, what had you in mind?'

'Well, Mama, perhaps the little one could watch you and I play, and, when she has learnt her lessons, join in?"

I did not like the sound of that, but Calliope approved. I was told to sit on the couch across from the divan.

'Little Pixie, you may put your hand on your kitty, but no moving it,' Jess told me. Quite why she called my sex my 'kitty,' I knew not, but it was an English term.

This was, I thought, ridiculous. I was the prime mover in our tripartite relationship. Calliope and I had swiftly fallen into a love affair with maternal echoes; while Jess was my slave. What was proposed now was, I wanted to say, preposterous. Instead, I sat there, my hand down my harem pants, cupping my kitty.

Unfolding opposite me was a scene which created a mix of emotions. Calliope and I always took the same path. I would nestle between her thighs, and tongue and finger her sex until she exploded. This she loved. Afterward, we slept. But here was something new. She was fingering Jess, something she never did to me. I could see her long fingers penetrating her, pulsing in and out, as Jess groaned with pleasure, and her sex made squelching sounds.

There was a place in my head where I resented this, to the point of being jealous. They were establishing a relationship in which I had no equal part, and Calliope was giving Jess a pleasure she had not given to me. Of all of that, I was jealous. But then that emotion was infused, and even overwhelmed by an erotic feeling I had never previously known. Even as I hated what they were doing, I loved it. It made my kitty so wet, that even though I was forbidden to exercise my fingers, it was wetting my pants.

Under Calliope's skilled fingers, Jess did not hold out long. She climaxed powerfully. Her legs jerked, so tight did her sinews clench, and her sex coated Calliope's fingers and couch.

How much I wanted that, and I itched to touch my bud, but I dared not.

When she had recovered, Jess slid to where I usually lay, and sucked and played with Calliope's sex. She worked deftly, her fingers flicking, her tongue moving fast, and her mouth sucking. Calliope succumbed, catching her breath in ragged gasps of sheer pleasure. Her legs draped themselves over Jess's shoulders, pulling her in, and then, suddenly, she climaxed. It took some minutes for her to recover.

Jess looked over at me, smiling, her face glistening with Calliope's juices.

'I hope I pleased you, Mama?'

Oddly enough, Calliope confirmed that as a fact. They both looked over at me. I blushed.

'Mama, shall we examine her?'

Calliope, smiling, assented. I was beckoned over.

Jess felt my loins.

'She is very wet Mama, and her bud is swollen, she is a dirty girl.'

I needed to climax. I was leaking, my thighs were wet, my pants soaked.

'Shall we see how she makes herself climax, Mama?'

Calliope nodded.

'Do you want to climax, little one?'

'Please, please, can I climax?'

'Hand on your kitty, and move it.'

I rubbed as Jess had ordered. I was on the edge.

'Stop!'

No, I thought; but I stopped.

They both looked at me. I was red-faced and wet. I gasped.

'Climax, now, kitten!'

Even as my mind protested at the treatment I was being accorded, my body responded, and I exploded. I shook, I shuddered, and my kitty was swept with an erotic explosion.

'Good girl,' Jess said.

I blushed.

'I love you, my kitten, come to your Mama.'

I flung myself into Calliope's bosom, waves of emotions hitting me.

She comforted me, and Jess joined us. 

They fell asleep before me. I was pondering the past six months in the Seraglio, and how far I had come. But was my relationship with Jess just servitude with an erotic edge? On the morrow, we would leave the Seraglio, and take the road to Damascus. 

 

 

 

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