Bilal and Mistress Octavia

Though she was mightily exhausted, Octavia insisted on walking to her room on her own when she reached the top of the stairs. She had told me I was

never

allowed in her room, no matter what. The next day she didn't emerge. I was left to my own devices, but once or twice heard stirring inside the room. I kept myself busy with reading and music.

The day after that, she came out in mid-afternoon. She had fully recovered, and in fact, looked invigorated. "Bilal, my pet, you have done well. Your mistress is quite pleased. I have surely chosen the right man for the job."

I stared at her, beaming. I felt like a loyal hound whose master had told him what a good boy he was. My mistress, my everything, thought me worthy. "Thank you mistress. I am..." my voice cracked, "I am very happy."

"As am I," she replied. "I am ready for my bath and massage, Bilal." As before, I performed my task, this time with overwhelming gusto and admiration for my mistress. The thing that happened in the forest had shaken me to my core, though I had understood little of it. But all I needed to understand was that my mistress was happy and healthy after it. The sight of her naked body slipping into the bath set my soul on fire once again, and I ached with desire to give all of myself to all of her. I scrubbed every inch of her luscious curves.

This time she seemed pensive and didn't utter a word in the tub. By this time I had learned how she had liked to be washed. I cleaned her back, her tits, her jade gate, and finally her gorgeous arse. I was elated. And then during the massage I got to rub my eager, hot hands all over her. I squeezed her soft tits, and felt as if it was her love in my hands that was oozing out the sides in a warm, oily mess.

Then, just like I had before, I attended to her ecstasy. I stroked her bush like an affectionate master with his cat, and my heart pounded at the hope that she was as wet as the muddy estate outside. As my finger penetrated her, I found it to be true and almost had my own rain. I touched her mystic, most intimate areas and my fingers rolled the looming wave of her climax. Her back bowed, her legs shook, and she let forth a rapturous moan. My mistress was raining, and I was the wet thunderhead that had birthed it. She got up from her table, and gently kissed me on the head.

Mistress Octavia stood before me. Her majestic body was slick with oil and her face held a look of absolute placidity. My insides twitched with delight. "Bilal, Bilal," she ran her delicate hand along the curve of my jaw. "There have been many that have come before you, but none of them compare. You are all a mistress could hope for."

"Thank you, Mistress Octavia. And you are all I could hope for in a mistress."

"Don't think I don't know, Bilal." She gave me her smirk.

"I'm sorry, Mistress?"

She moved her face even closer to mine, "I know what you want to do to me." I stared at her, dumbfounded. I had wanted her since I first laid eyes on her, and her baths and massages had only fanned those flames out of control. It didn't take any kind of dark power to tell. "You want to bend me over and rut me like a wild stag." My lip trembled and I nodded my head, agog. "Well, I have one more task for you, Bilal, and once you succeed I'll be ready to give you a special gift." She gyrated her naked, thick hips, as if I hadn't figured out her meaning.

My breath trembled in my throat, "Yes, mistress! Please! I am your humble servant! I live to serve you. Please tell me now!"

She laughed. A true laugh of amusement. At the time I thought of this as affection, but now I know I was nothing but a plaything, a pawn in her schemes. "Patience, boy. When the time is right I will tell you your special task for me. Until then, you must be a good boy and attend to me as you have. Your mistress is very pleased." Then she turned in her characteristic casual nudity and returned to the sanctity of her room.

--

I woke every morning hoping for news. She ignored the question every time I asked, parrying it in a way that even I was impressed with. The baths and massages continued, much to my delight.

But by five days out I was restless. She

had

to tell me and allow me to please her. But as if she had read my mind, she emerged from her room with a jingling coin purse. "Today I have the task you have been waiting for, Bilal." She handed me the sack. "Go into town and meet a man named Matis at the tavern. Purchase the item I have ordered from him." She grinned a bit, "There is a little extra in the bag. Enjoy yourself for a couple of days."

I beamed at her confidence in me and the prospect of a few days off in a big city, and with money in my pocket even. "Thank you, mistress."

"I have one caveat. No whores. You belong to me, and I will not have some strumpet for sale interfere." I had paid for love once and found it a hollow experience, so she had nothing to worry about.

Master Erasmus brought a horse out from the back of the manor as I waited. He had a bemused and annoyed face, but he silently handed me the reins. When I was a child a merchant and his retinue came into town to resupply and do some business. They had three fine horses with them. One of the men in town was felling a tree and it crashed to the ground, spooking the horses. A horse bucked, throwing the man off his back. One of the merchants' apprentices came to calm the horse, but it bucked and bucked. The foolish man refused to leave the agitated beast alone and it rapidly turned, kicking the man in the head with all its might. He was probably dead before he even hit the ground, and his head was a horrid, bloody mess.

Since then, I have been wary of horses. How could such a large, powerful animal consider something as puny as a man his master? Horses would sense my fear, too, when I was near, and it would make them nervous. Once one gave me a nasty bite on the shoulder. "Hold it still," I told Master Erasmus and his face lit up in anger. He opened his mouth to say something, but it seemed to snap shut on its own accord. All he could do was grunt disapprovingly as I mounted the beast.

The sky was clear for once, and it looked as if it might be a nice day. This horse, at least, seemed to be cooperating, and it only got a little nervous when it spotted an alligator sunning itself forty or so feet off the path. The mosquitos were not so bad today, and I wore gloves and a net over my head to protect me from them.

After riding a couple of hours I came upon St. Tremay. The palisade around the city was green with swamp moss, and I could smell the burning piles of sage even out here. Inside the city was just as vibrant as ever. Even though it had been only a couple of weeks at Fontaine Estate, I felt like it had been forever since I had been somewhere civilized. They didn't let many of the servants off the estate. Deliveries were done by hirelings and supervised by Master Erasmus. It was a grand act of trust on the part of my mistress to let me go into town like this.

I hitched my horse at the tavern entrance and went inside. It was nicer than I expected. Piano music came from somewhere, and the walls were lined with oil lamps. I approached the barkeep. "Hello, my friend. I look for Matis." But the barkeep wouldn't tell me anything until I bought a pinch of cannabis. The Vauls smoke the bud of the plant, not the dried resin like we do in the empire.

The barkeep then pointed to a man in blue sitting alone at a corner table. He seemed to have found the darkest spot in the tavern. I approached him, "Greetings, you are Matis?" He nodded. "I am Bilal, mistress Octavia sent me."

Matis grinned and pulled out a carved wooden box. "That woman certainly does have her appetites, does she not?" The box was about a foot long, and had delicate metal hinges on the side. "You have the money? Two gold pieces."

The bag had this much and more. I fished out two gold coins and passed them to the man. He slid the box across the table to me. "Pleasure," he said. I went to open the box. "No, no. It will not do to open it. Your mistress likes her privacy. Best to give it straight to her."

I spent the next hour smoking the cannabis and sitting stoned in the tavern. I had brought my qanun with me, and I was dismayed that there was already music. It was very much frowned upon for one bard to interrupt another's music. So I smoked and ate a greasy sausage with water that tasted and smelled like metal. The sausage wasn't half bad, though. Mistress Octavia wasn't expecting me for a couple of days, so I could enjoy a bit of the town. Of course, I was eager to return and claim my reward. I wondered what was in the box. Matis had left, and I was curious.

Mistress Octavia let me in on the most intimate parts of her life. And

she

hadn't told me not to open the box. The object inside was heavy, and it made a muted clunk as I gently shook it. I wasn't able to sit much longer before my curiosity got the best of me. I was feeling not quite present from the cannabis and that heightened my need to see the thing. So I gingerly opened the lid.

There was a long, thin object wrapped in silk. My heart thumped as I pushed the silk aside. What could Mistress Octavia want so much? At first I couldn't tell what it was. It looked like the tusk of a walrus, but carved in an intricate pattern. I lifted it out of the box and the realization jolted me. I almost dropped it.

It was a man's ram, carved from ivory. Everything was clear. The shaft was hard with veins carved in it. The foreskin was pushed back, revealing the fleshy mushroom head. There were even two wrinkled marbles at the base. I laughed aloud, but stifled it quickly. I didn't exactly want to be seen holding this absurd thing.

But there was more. It was covered in ridges and furrows. It made sense. Such carvings would tickle a woman's jade gate and bring her rain even faster. Heavens, who thought of these things? I wondered too if Matis had made this or if it was some kind of special order from the Old World. I began to feel hot as I imagined Mistress Octavia sliding it into her jade gate, thrusting it in and out until she quaked with pleasure. She could use the massage oil to make it slick. What a treat for her!

Perhaps, if I was good enough, she would even let me use it on her. That would be quite the reward. I could use it on her after her massages. My own cock began to harden at the thought.

I put the ram away, spending the next few hours smoking and eating.

--

It was evening by the time I emerged from the tavern. I was tired from all that I had smoked, but I had come out from under the cannabis's enchantment quite a while ago. I could get some more to smoke tomorrow. But now I remembered something from my voyage. Marguerite had said she would be here in town at the church.

Handling the ram had made me feel a bit randy, and though I had no illusions about what would happen with a vestal, it would still be nice to see the face of a woman and hear her voice. The church's dome was visible above the buildings of the town, and its spires were unmistakable.

The church had massive double doors, and when I came inside I was treated to the familiar brass Holy Sun of God. It felt a little strange having this fake cock in my pack in a holy place like this, but I didn't dare risk it getting stolen on my horse's saddle bag. I am sure when I stand before God at my judgment I will have to explain why I brought an instrument of deviance belonging to a heretic into God's house. But my love for Mistress Octavia had blinded me.

The church had wooden pews and burning candles in the western style. At the edges of the candle light I could see vestals and acolytes busying themselves with church work. A lacquered wooden carving of St. Alina, the first padishah's wife, looked solemnly over the chamber.

I prostrated myself in front of the Sun and recited the creed. "There is no god but God. He has sent his prophets and saints to mortal sinners to guide them. I will obey God. I will speak His word. I will keep His name Holy. Amen." It felt good saying my prayers at a proper church, even if the western kingdoms worshiped God differently than us in the empire. God was God, and I could talk to Him anywhere.

I dropped a few silver coins into the donation box, then sat down on the pew. The bare wood wasn't exactly comfortable, but I needed some rest. The church was a welcome distraction from daily life at the estate. They had taken me out of field work, but I still had to see to Mistress Octavia's every need. It was hard work all the same.

I had been here a few weeks, and Marguerite had told me that she only expected to be in town for a week or so, and then head out to the kingdom of the Amano to the new mission there. The dark, the peace of the church, and the remains of the cannabis must have lured me to sleep. I started when I heard someone call my name.

Roused from my nap, I saw a vestal standing before me. She wore the vestal's habit. A formless black dress revealing only the hands, the hijab revealing only her white, oval face, and the green Sun of God hanging from a pendant. But her sharp nose and blue eyes were unmistakable. "Marguerite!" I exclaimed. "I thought you would be long gone!" I spoke in Kashaki.

She grinned, showing her endearing buck teeth. She was beautiful still even if her golden hair were covered and her thick body was lost in the dress. "I was wondering when I would see you. Welcome to our church."

"It's beautiful, Marguerite. Our churches are not like this in the empire, and it is a treat to see how westerners worship the one true God." I stood. It wouldn't be proper to hug a vestal in the house of God like this, and I couldn't very well shake her hand. I bobbed awkwardly, not knowing what to do, then I gave her a stiff bow. She giggled.

"I'll have to visit one of the empire's churches, if I ever make it back to the Old World." Her voice took on a more somber tone. "How are you getting along at the estate?"

I felt suddenly nervous. For some reason I didn't want to tell her, especially about Mistress Octavia. I wasn't fool enough to tell her about the ritual I had witnessed, but I didn't want to mention her or even Colette at all. "It's umm... it's hard work, but not so bad."

Her eyes subtly narrowed, "But Bilal, you're a slave there. You're at the mercy of the estate masters. How much do they feed you?"

"I have a rich breakfast, a snack at midday, and a filling dinner." It was true, but misleading. In the fields they received a weekly allotment of cornmeal with some salt. Except on special occasions, hoecakes were all the field workers had to eat. I felt a little guilty not mentioning it, but I knew somehow I couldn't. "I have a nice, warm bed inside to sleep in every night."

"And your masters?" She seemed frustrated, "Do they beat you?"

"I haven't been beaten once," again, it was true but misleading. I remembered the grisly back of Pierre, the man who had been misfortunate enough to displease Master Erasmus. And there were plenty more since I had arrived.

She made a face again. "Bilal..."

"Marguerite, it's very much not what I expected. I am honored to serve there." Suddenly, I felt the need to go and I rose.

"Hold a moment, Bilal. Won't you take some tea with me? I haven't seen you in so long. You made the voyage over bearable." I was torn. But she smiled at me and that was all it took. I was nervous, but I saw no reason not to follow Marguerite to her quarters. As far as I knew, there was no rule against it.

Her quarters were in the back of the church, and hardly larger than mine. I sat on a creaking wooden chair in the corner and she fetched a pot of tea. She poured one for each of us and we spoke on lighter topics. It seemed that the construction of the mission in the Amano kingdom had been delayed, as they were short on supplies. She was staying here to help in the church while she waited. She didn't bring up the estate again.

I shared some of the details of my travels with her. I had never told her about when I was in the army and fought Duke Ghostface's men. "There were ten thousand of the padishah's men all lined up to face Ghostface's men. He painted his face in battle and rode in looking as if he had a skull for a head. All the men dreaded him. But when we got there, we found that Ghostface had twenty thousand."

"Oh my." Her wide eyes sparkled in the lamplight.

"The archers fired on us first, and men dropped like flies around me. It was truly horrifying. Then, seeing our ranks weakened, Ghostface's cavalry charged us. Their heavy swords cut one of us down after another."

"What did you do then? How did you survive?"

"I did what any sensible man would do. I ran like Shaitan himself was chasing me." She made the Sign of the Sun and looked uncomfortable as I mentioned the name of the Adversary. "I got away and ran into the hills. I made it back to Alyuna in a couple of weeks and took a ship back to Kashak. In the meantime I had to steal and scavenge to survive." I left out the most unbelievable details. I was not as confident a storyteller as I am now.

We drank tea into the night, and soon we found ourselves conversing on the Book of Precepts, God's holy book. Having relaxed somewhat, I found myself searching Marguerite's form, hoping to see something under the shapeless dress. It was impossible, but I still felt stirrings for her, remembering my carnal dream on the ship.

Of course touching her in any way would not be possible. Many of the Faith are not literate, and many of those who read are not much familiar with the Book of Precepts. Imams tell the people of their own interpretations, which suit their own needs for power and wealth.

But they never tell anyone about Bulsara's Lyric. It's a passage where Bulsara speaks to his new young wife. The passage is full of metaphor, but to anyone possessed of any kind of insight, the meaning is obvious. I thought I could have a little fun with Marguerite, maybe make her blush. "Have you heard of it, Marguerite?"

"Of course I have, Bilal. Vestals have to read the entire Good Book." There was a little grin on her face. Strange, I had expected a little embarrassment.

I described the story to her. It was full of talk of emission of oil, hibiscus petals, warm, flowing rivers, that kind of thing. I even read some of my favorite lines. Her smile got bigger as I told the tale. I was hard upon finishing it, and she was red-faced and beaming. She stood and approached me. "That's one of my favorites. It's so sensual, so raw"

What kind of vestal was this? I had plenty ready to say to tease her for her embarrassment, but I wasn't ready for her arousal. "Umm... yes. I as well. You like it?"

"The word of God is the word of God, Bilal. Are you afraid of it? Because I'm not." She took both my hands and lifted me up. We were face to face now. I stared into her pale blue eyes and I found I was the one embarrassed, not her. I felt as if I had been caught seducing one of God's women, and I suppose I inadvertently had. "It doesn't take a scholar to know why you've come back to me."

Her words shot tingles down my spine and into my ram. Her eyes darted to my lips, and her own red lips parted. We were so close that I could smell the tea herbs on her hot breath. Somehow, the sinfulness of my thoughts made her all the more enticing. It was a crime and a sin to even touch a vestal in an intimate way, even if she wanted it. She leaned forward, and I could feel her large breasts pressing against me. In my shock my mouth opened, and she pounced. At first I didn't want to kiss her and tried to push her away. It felt like such a sin. I was defiling a vestal in the house of God. I felt as if He would strike me down then and there. But her probing tongue insisted, and I, being a man of more passion than sense, obliged her.