From The Tent Ch 01

Ch. 01: The Scarf

My darling concubine,

Sadly, we are separated by enormous distance, yet I find myself thinking of you.

I remember the first time I saw you...

I walked through the market place searching for a gift for my Prince. No longer in his favor, a little bored with me, I hoped to rekindle his passion with an unusual present.—new blood for his collection of concubines. You were to be that gift. Bored, I examined the women for sale—they looked tired, jaded and unremarkable. Then...

I saw you – a tiny figure at the back – your posture giving away your pain and expectation that you'd be overlooked. Yet something about you called to me even though you seemed unaware of my scrutiny from the crowd.

Today, I send you this gift – a scarf I found in the same market.

I want you to undress and hold the fabric to you as you read this.

The scarf holds my perfume, and I hope this will help you recall my presence. Even across the miles and through the long journey, my hope is the fabric will have retained my favorite perfume which will remind you of how it feels to caress my skin, a trace of tobacco which may remind you of my kisses, and perhaps traces of my musk from when I pulled it repeatedly between my thighs last night when I thought of you and longed for the pleasure you give me.

The material and texture are particular, too. The scarf is soft like your skin, yet black which represents my touch and possession of you. The translucence makes me think of your wide-eyed trust. The sequins are solid and shine like your inner beauty.

Search with your breath—find what remains and use your imagination to bring me to you, as if I was there now...

Last night I undressed and thought of you. My eyes closed, I draped the scarf around my neck. I let it trail across my breasts and remembered what your sweet hands felt like as they tentatively stroked my skin. I tingle with the memory even now as I write this. I want you to place the scarf in the same way I did. Pull it away—relish the soft, rough coolness as it slides across your throat, grazing your neck where I bit you and marked you as mine.

I remember when they brought you to me—the first time and I knew, even then, that you belonged to me, that I wouldn't let you go. I had to enjoy you and explore your body, and I wouldn't, couldn't, give you away or risk losing you.

You tried not tremble as I circled you, and you didn't flinch as my slaves removed your clothes—careful not to touch the skin that now belonged to me. I knew you didn't like my eyes scouring your curves and pale, flawless skin. I watched you breathe and wondered at your composure. Your head hung demurely, eyes instinctively on the floor, no doubt aware of my painted toes. I heard a slight intake of breath, sensed fear as I leant forward and touched a scar on your arm with a long fingernail.

"What are these?" I asked one of the slaves. No one knew. You glanced at me as I spoke but kenw to look away as I leaned even closer.

"I've decided to keep you for myself," I told you. "You belong to me." A slight nod. "All of you..." I lowered my voice, "Even this..." I cupped your mound and felt you shift a fraction. "Leave us," I said. The slaves hesitated, and I removed my hand to wave them away. "I want to prepare her myself. No one but me must touch her."

Loosening my belt, I moved towards the deep, warmed bath. I poured oil into the water then pulled my silk dress over my head. I stood before you, naked, before my prize.

I want you, now, to bunch the scarf and roll it gently across your skin, slowly, not forgetting your back and buttocks as you bring back that moment, the heat from my admiring gaze.

Do you remember the bath—how we both stepped down into the deep water? How I took your hand? How you lowered your eyes and knelt before me?

"Wash yourself," I said, and I watched hungrily as slowly, you scooped handfuls of water and rinsed your head and shoulders.

A finger beckoned you closer, and you slid forward—apprehensive but so brave.

"You are here to please me," I explained gently. "That will be your pleasure." You thought a moment, glanced up at me and looked away automatically when I frowned.

"You must ask permission to speak and you will address me as 'Mistress' for I am yours as much as you are mine."

Your scarf, concubine, is a symbol of how you are tied to me. Softly, willingly, I want you to think about that tie as you wrap the fabric loosely around your wrists. Lie on your belly. I want to know that now you are submissive and beautiful. I want to visualize your skin glowing you flush with a sense of purpose. Take pride in that knowledge.

Remember how I placed my hands on your breasts? I wanted to teach you how your body belonged to me. I held your eyes as I gently massaged your skin. I enjoyed how you tried to stay still. You knew your place, and I sensed that you wanted to touch me.

I slid my hands to your waist. The water heaved as you shifted to part your thighs and raise your knees for me. I nodded my approval, proud that I had chosen someone who knew what I wanted.

"You are a good kitten. This is my name for you because you are young, soft and innocent."

As I spoke, I watched your face for a reaction. Your eyes were half-closed and I could feel your heart pounding in excitement, perhaps a little fear.

I raised one hand to your lips, stroking gently. "You may kiss my hand," I said, sliding the other along your thigh.

Loosen your scarf and roll onto your back. I want you to stroke the velvet across the same place—slowly. Close your eyes and bring that first time back. I did the same last night, and I said your name as I became more and more aroused, "Kitten...Kitten..." I whispered as I thought of how right it felt as I touched your smooth skin. And how eager you were in your stillness.

Remember how carefully you explored the palm of my hand as I smoothed it across your lips?

"Yes! Do that...you can do that..." I sighed—aroused by you so soon, despite myself. While your tongue lapped my palm, I felt the tension increase as I stroked your thigh in response.

Can you feel me now? Has the memory resurfaced and made this real again? Last night it became so for me. It was as if I was with you again as my hand searched for that place between your thighs.

There was, I remember, the tiniest gasp of disappointment when I pulled away. I rose above you, showers of water glistening in the candlelight.

"Kneel," I said as I sat at the edge of the pool, my thighs parted for you so you could know your Mistress. "My concubine..." I purred, proud of my choice. "Now, put your hands behind your back. Yes—like that. Clasp them tight. I want to see your breasts jutting toward me, your Mistress."

You blushed deep. I pulled your chin up, "There's no shame, concubine, just acceptance—look at me." And brilliant blue eyes cut through me. I felt a jolt of protectiveness.

"You're safe here, with me. No one will harm you."

Lips parted, you sighed, looked at me expectantly.

"You are here to give me pleasure and I will train you. You will give me everything."

You nodded.

Last night as I recalled this moment, I threw my head back into the pillows when I remembered the glorious moment when you first pressed your face into my cunt. I tried to reproduce the sensation with my open hand, your damp hair tickling my skin as you fed off me—like the scarf tickling you as you read this. Nothing, however, can reproduce the shock and feeling of completion as you inhaled my scent. You panted and moaned despite yourself as your hungry tongue licked and stroked me, possibly a little too quickly.

"Longer strokes..." I gasped as your mouth and chin twisted between my legs. And you obeyed, and despite myself, I lost a little control in my excitement and fell back, lifting my ankles out of the water to gain purchase on the tiles. In doing this, I inadvertently dislodged you and you knelt up, confused, worried that you'd displeased me.

"Mistress?" you said, your voice shaking with anxiety.

I lifted my head so I could look at you. Taking pity, I wrapped my legs around your neck nad pulled your face back down to my sopping cunt.

"Longer...strokes," I repeated, "and...oh...and you can use your hand."

Now I want you to know how that felt for me as you tortured my soft, moist cunt lips. Touch yourself with the scarf. I want you to slip two fingers deep inside yourself. Feel the heat inside you as you once felt it inside me. Buck your hips like I did. Hear my ragged breath and remember your own, muffled groans.

As I reached climax, I remember clawing at your head, twisting your long hair around my hands, pulling your face harder to me.

Last night, I rolled that same scarf across my belly. I teased myself with it, stroking my breasts, thighs, my vulva until I came long and hard, moaning your name. Can you remember how that felt for you?

I remember my shaking legs, slumped, I shuddered at the intensity.

"My beautiful concubine..." I groaned in wonder. "I made a good choice."

"Mistress?"

"Speak." I leant on one elbow to look at you. Your chest heaved, your face anointed with my juices.

"Did I...did I 'please' you?" "You did. You have much to learn about how to pleasure me—but for now, I am pleased with your obedience."

I pressed against your fingers again, aroused by your humility.

"More," I insisted, and I marveled at your spirit as you pumped four fingers into me this time, gently at first, then when I commanded you "Harder," you did my bidding. I guided your other hand to my belly under the curve and above my pubic line, making you press hard, there, so it felt even deeper.

"Kitten...harder..." I gasped as I fell into an orgasm more ferocious than the first.

I pushed your hands away. Tears filled your eyes. For a moment, I think, you believed I was angry.

"You've done well, my good girl," I smiled. "I'm cold. That's all."

I pulled you to me, wrapped my legs around your waist and forced my mouth against yours. Your lips parted with no hesitation as I breathed you in. I felt you trying to control the emotions in danger of overwhelming you, and I felt the skin on your forehead tighten as you fought back grateful tears.

"Tell me what's wrong, Kitten," I murmured into your mouth, but you couldn't answer with my tongue searching for yours, and when I clasped my lips around it, pulled you deep inside me, you moaned as if in pain.

"You've surpassed my dreams." Remember when I told you this and how you wept hot tears as I hold you and stroked your beautiful face, your eyes shut in shame.

"I want your tears," I soothed. "I want all of you. I have all of you." I tilted my head to the side, amused at your innocence. "Why are you crying Kitten?"

"Because I'm happy, Mistress," you said.

Remember how I helped you out of the bath and wrapped you in large, soft towels. How I took you to the fire, we sat facing each other on the sheepskin rug, and I tied your wrists in front of you with a black, silk scarf? Then I sat behind you, pressed my breasts against your back trying to hold you as close as possible. I positioned my legs on either side of you and reached over to pull your knees apart. You were shaking with need.

And now, can you feel my hair trailing across your skin when I licked the nape of your neck and shoulders as I rolled your breasts.

"Mine." I reminded you and you whimpered in gratitude, pushing your head against me as I enveloped you. Then I slid my hands to your hips, checked you were still open for me and reached under your tied hands to your soft curls, sliding my fingers over a moist nub.

"I want you to give yourself to me," I hissed in an effort to compose myself. "I am your Mistress, and if you give yourself to me, I'll be pleased."

Your legs trembled as I worked you with rough strokes. "Give up all your control. It's time. It's what I want." Your moans become louder, pleading almost as you turned your head awkwardly so I could kiss the side of your mouth, but my own mouth was searching for the perfect spot just as my fingers were.

"Keep your legs wide."

"Oh, yes...Mistress. Yes."

"Give," I insisted before my teeth clamped to bite at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. "The same side as your heart," I explained as I pulled back for an instant to take a calming breath. "Are you ready?"

Hold your hand to your mark, Kitten, as you rub yourself as roughly as I did that night. There was no time for gentleness. I wanted you to feel mauled and out of control. This was about my will being done. As I rubbed, I chewed on your neck, knowing that it hurt, and when I sensed you were close, I bit down hard—and you screamed your pain and ecstasy as you came for what seemed like an eternity, rocking against my but making no effort to escape as you fell into the bottomless pit that was my desire for you.

And I held my hand firmly against your cunt, rubbing mercilessly, even when you were past coming, hissing your gratitude. My other arm wrapped tight around you to keep you still as I suckled at your mark, pulling and nipping at the skin symbolizing my ownership of your body and soul.

Finally, I released you and you collapsed against me.

"You're mine," I sighed.

I covered you in towels and stroke naked to the flask of warmed wine, and since your hands were still tied, I held it to your lips while you drank. I teased your black locks away from your tear-streaked face and patted it dry with a corner of a towel. You looked calm and peaceful. I pulled the towels away, and you automatically parted your legs for me. I nodded my approval, licked my lips, tempted by you.

"Later. You need rest. Come to me." And you followed me to my bed, waited as I pulled the thick coverlet back and lay on my side. You knew what to do and climbed in, your tied hands making it difficult.

Your body was limp as I wrapped my arms and legs around you once I had pulled the covers over us. I remember lifting your hair, drinking in the erotic sight of your bruised neck—the seal that made you mine.

As you slept, I enjoyed the warmth from your body. I listened to your peaceful breaths. I stroked the scars on your arms in the hope of healing you.

I lay awake a long time. I sighed as your hands searched for my face over your shoulder, and I kissed your fingertips and helped you get comfortable again. Once I was sure you were safe, I drifted off.

Last night, when I remembered all this, I held your scarf between my thighs, and I slept with it like that so you could feel me now.

Hold it to your face.

When there are tears, I want you to lose the sobs in here as if it were my neck. When you feel lost, remember, you have this scarf to tie you to me. When you don't know what to do, stroke yourself with it as if it was me touching you.

Keep it with you. Remember me. Imagine me, your Mistress, for, my beautiful concubine, I am as much yours as you are mine. And you are safe.