The Harems Lessons Ch 02

Lord Bael sat amidst a large pile of paperwork. It invaded the large oak desk of his study and covered the floor in disorganized piles. He sighed, a mix of exhaustion and annoyance. The reports were all the same. The Gadenites were cutting through Shadorian troops like a knife through butter. Villages were being sacked, castles and forts were falling all along the Eastern border. He would have to push even further into the desert to make homes for refugees. It bothered him less that he would be pushing more tribes from lands they had held for centuries, and more that he was being forced to fund two wars. The desert tribes were disorganized, but fierce. And half of his grain and food was being sent up the supply lines to feed troops in the East, while a steady stream of refugees that he could not afford to feed were pouring in.

What to do...

He penned a quick letter to Captain Greynon, hoping his dear friend would still be alive to receive the orders. Another letter was sent to the leader of a nearby village authorizing more fields to be used for farming. It would stretch the land too thin, and farming wouldn't be as good next year, Lord Bael knew, and yet he had no choice. He picked up the thick wooden goblet taking up the only clear spot on his desk and eyed it for a moment. His riches were evident in the amount of wood in his castle. And yet he could not feed his people with all the wood in the world. Or the riches, for that matter, for food was in short supply all over Shadoria. He took a long draw from the goblet, having intended for it to be only a sip. The bitter wine nipped sharply at his tongue, and a warm relief slid down his throat.

He stood reluctantly from his desk, knocking a few stray papers to the floor. He ignored them.

Enough paperwork for one day

, he thought,

my people will starve with or without my signature.

He handed the letters to a servant waiting outside his door and started down one of the cool sandstone hallways of Border Keep.

Inside the keep, there was no sign of the hardship weighing on the country. Servants bustled about the hallways carrying fruits, goblets, fans, and a number of other ridiculous luxuries. It was their job to make the people of the keep comfortable, for Highborn people should never have to worry about food or comfort. Lord Bael pondered how they could allow themselves to be fooled by the illusion. He had watched the soups get thinner and thinner, tasted the watered down wine. The servants were doing their best, it was unnecessary to bring to their attention that he knew these things. But he wondered how long even they could keep up appearances.

Things must improve, and soon.

Normally a brisk afternoon walk would have cheered the lord, but today he felt immune to the stunning beauty of his home. Hummingbirds flew merrily along flowering vines in sunny courtyards. The children of Highborn played with those of the servants in quiet fountains, or ran along the cloisters at some game with bright smiles on their small round faces. Servant girls fetched water from the fountains, splashes gluing the thin material to their curvy figures.

Lord Bael found himself eying one of the girls, fabric clinging to her budding breasts, her pert nipples poking outward as if begging for freedom. If she was of childbearing age, it was just barely. Her face was plain and freckled, and her soft childish features had just begun to fade into the graceful curves of womanhood. She had the bright brown eyes of a doe. And though her hair could not seem to choose between blond or brown, it looked thick and soft, and hung to her waist. She wore a simple brown linen dress, a sign that she worked in the kitchens or somewhere where she was away from important guests. Such a simple little peasant girl, and yet Lord Bael found himself hardening as he watched her.

She pulled a heavy water gourd from the fountain, balancing it easily on one shoulder, and started off toward the kitchens. Lord Bael thought for a moment, and then started down another hallway at a fast-paced walk. Before he knew it, he was dashing. Servants dove to get out of his way, and a few Highborn gave hasty bows as he passed. He almost laughed out loud, but he let the excitement carry him to the kitchens as though he floated on clouds.

The kitchens were usually full, but dinner was still a few hours off, so most of the servants were out fetching ingredients or cleaning up from the mid-day meal. A couple of cooks scrubbed with ardor at deep iron pots, and a boy was gathering up chickens for the slaughter. Two servants sat eating at a thick wooden table, chattering in a foreign tongue. The room froze as Lord Bael entered.

"All of you, get out." He ordered. There was no questioning him. Within moments the room was empty. The silence of the usually bustling kitchen was eerie. Cookware sat lifeless on the counters, and the cook fires started to dwindle with no one tending them. The floor was littered in hay and flour, although lines through the dust told the story of many futile sweepings. Lord Bael walked to the large wooden table were the servants ate their meals. In their haste to leave, the two that had been eating had left their meal on the table- some hard bread and a few spoonfuls of jam. Lord Bael sat on one of the benches that lined the table, and waited.

The paths the servants walked to avoid the eyes of those above them in stature were long and inconvenient, but Lord Bael did not wait long. The gourd entered the room first, followed by the servant girl from the fountain, pushing the heavy door open with her shoulders and back. She hurried to one of the cook stoves and poured the water into a pot that was waiting. A frustrated sigh escaped her lips as she noticed the fire underneath going out, and she rushed to get wood from a nearby pile.

"My lady." Lord Bael watched her until he could no longer resist speaking. The whirled around with a short scream, wood flying everywhere. Her already large eyes widened in disbelief when she saw him, and she dropped to the floor.

"My... my lord, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there." Lord Bael walked to her side, and put a hand on her back. She tried to shy away, but was already pressed to the floor. Lord Bael caressed her hair as he moved his hand to her head, and around to her chin. Her hair was as soft as he had hoped.

"What is your name?" He asked, pulling up on her chin to see her face.

"My name?" The terrified look on her face wasn't going anywhere.

"Do you see anyone else that I might be addressing?"

"No, no, my lord... Wren, Sir. Your servant's name is Wren."

"Wren... A lovely name. How old are you Wren?"

"I... I don't know, my lord. I was found wandering around my village, which had been burned by Gadenites when I was only a child."

"A child? You look to be still a child now."

"No, I mean, yes, my Lord, I look it, but I am a woman, fully flowered. The cook says I am old enough to take a husband now, if one will have me."

"I see." He watched her face closely, watched as his silence made her uncomfortable.

"My lord, it is a pleasure to see you, but surely you are not here to talk with me. Please tell me how I may be of service."

"It would please me very much if you would sit with me." Lord Bael moved back to the bench at the table. Wren stood shyly, and stepped toward him slowly, cautiously. Her linen frock was still wet from the fountain, but now it was covered in the hay and flour from the floor.

"I don't think the head cook would be pleased to see that you have made your clothing dirty." He said. She looked down, and let go of an adorable gasp, bringing a hand up to brush off the debris. Lord Bael stepped and intercepted the movement, his large hand wrapping easily around her thin wrist. She froze with fear as he slowly brought his other hand up and began to remove pieces of hay from the linen She shuddered at his touch.

"My lord..." He put a finger to her mouth.

"Shh," and went back to brushing hay off her shoulders, working his way down. He traced her collarbone, noticing that it was about the same thickness as his pointer finger. What a tiny creature she was, he thought that she might break under his touch. His hands slid down slowly until it rested on one of her tiny breasts. She gasped again, and tried to pull away, but his strength was far greater. With one hand he reached up and grabbed a handful of her straw-colored hair, firmly, but gently. His other hand wrapped around her waist, and in one fluid motion he lifted her up and set her on the table.

"Please..." She said, "My lord, I am frightened..." He ignored her pleas, leaving his hand firmly gripped in her hair, he dipped a finger in the jelly on the table. He traced her lips with his finger, coating them in a thin layer. Then he stuck his finger into her mouth. She struggled, and nearly choked herself, so he pulled his finger out and grabbed her forcibly by the chin.

"Shh," He coaxed again, bending down to lick some of the jelly from her lips, "You taste as sweet as you look..." He whispered, more to himself than to her. He brought his lips to hers again, this time kissing her gently. Her struggles ceased a little, but tears formed in her eyes. He wiped them away. "You have nothing to fear, if you do well I may send you to my harem, or give you to one of my men for a wife. But you must show me that you can be more than a kitchen girl. Do you understand?" Another tear dripped down her cheek, but she nodded. Lord Bael kissed her again, and this time she kissed him back. She was so young, so pure, and her inexperience excited the Lord of Border Keep even more. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and explored, then invited her tongue into his own mouth. He kissed her fiercely, with increasing passion, until uncontrollable need had built up inside him.

The cloth that covered her tore easily, her smooth flesh freed at last from the confines of the linen prison. Her nipples were tiny, and a soft inviting brown. He pushed her down onto her back and moved his mouth over one of her pointy breasts. He cupped it it one hand, massaging it gently, feeling her squirm underneath him. His tongue flickered over her nipple like a snake's before his lips finally closed over it. Her back arched and she drew in a long breath. His other hand reach down to part her wiry legs and feel the soft hair between them.

But Lord Bael had no patience that day. He found wetness between her legs and the throbbing between his own became unbearable. He pulled her to the edge of the table, and unlaced his trousers. His manhood all but leapt from his pants, reaching for the pink folds before it. His hands locked around her waist and in one swift movement he thrust himself deep inside her. He felt the flesh tear and she cried out in pain. But the urge to move inside her was more than he could take, and he had no forbearance to wait for her to get used to him. His strokes were long, and powerful, and her cries continued. He pulled her body onto his shaft, buried as deep as it would go, feeling the exquisite tightness of her, the untouched perfection. Tears streamed down her face, but her cries had turned to moans and he no longer knew if they were from pain or pleasure. His motions were shorter now, fast and furious, his pelvis pounding on the soft flesh of her thighs. Then in an instant, Wren's face was hers... It was the Desert Queen beneath him, crying out, eyes begging him not to stop. He felt the pressure building up inside of him, but held back. He withdrew himself. He felt anger well up inside of him.

Wren looked curiously at him, fear had almost completely gone from her face, but now it returned. He forced her over onto her side, and then face-down on the table. He climbed onto the table behind her and lifted her hips until she was on her knees. He could see the sides of her hips where his fingers had dug into her flesh, and he grasped her again, driving himself into her from behind. She cried out again, although this time the sound of pleasure was unmistakable. Fervor renewed by her cry, and by his frustration, he pounded her even harder than before, watching with greedy hunger as he disappeared inside her, only to reappear again. Inside, she squeezed around him, making her already tight hole even tighter. This time, as the pressure built up he knew there would be no controlling it. As his pleasure sailed to it's peak and his seed poured out inside her, she moaned loudly with intense passion, prolonging the sensation along his spasming rod.

Slowly, his heart beat returned to normal. He withdrew from her, strings of the thick sticky liquid trailing from his softening cock. He laced his trousers and started to the door. Then he turned to look at his conquest. She was gathering the rags that were her clothing up from the floor.

"I will send for you." He said, and with that, he left.

***

The sounds of cheerful giggling woke Ariya gently. She stood and walked slowly to the edge of her platform, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. It was another beautiful day in the large menagerie she now called home. The sweet smell of flowers filled the room, competing with the scents of last night's incense. Sunlight cast a pleasant glow through the large windows that had to be seventy feet up. She couldn't see the sky, but she guessed it to be cloudless. It was quite hot, as early in the day as it was, making Ariya grateful that she didn't bother with clothing. The giggling brought her attention to the large fountain in the center of the huge room.

The fountain stood twenty feet high, and was made up of five small pools at different heights. The water came from a hot spring deep within the mountains, and poured from the highest pool to the lowest. The pools at the top were hot, but cooled as the water fell until it collected at the bottom level in a pool that ranged in depth from one foot to ten. The hanging vines that grew freely all over the keep also grew from the edges of the pools, giving it the look of a great willow tree. The real willow trees that surrounded it were dwarfed by it. All in all, the entire room had the feel of a great coliseum. From the willow grove, steps led up to a ring of walkways and landings that surrounded it. This was where the girls of the harem slept on mattresses set into the ground, flush with the stone floor. There was no shortage of creature comforts here, pillows of every shape and variety, the lightest and softest of blankets, servants always there to look after their every need.

At first, Ariya had felt like she would never adjust to life here. She looked at her wrists where the shackles had rubbed her skin raw. It was almost healed now. Her prison had expanded, as well, to include supervised walks around the keep if she wished, and trips to the library. Ariya couldn't read, but she was fascinated by the leather bound parchment. It seemed magic to her that information could be passed on in this way- and the sheer number of them! There couldn't be that much information in the whole world.

Ariya was contemplating a trip to the library when out of nowhere she was assaulted by a feather pillow from behind. She toppled off the edge of her platform with a screech.

The fall was about ten feet, but the landing on the thick, spongy moss that covered the grove floor was painless. Ariya scrambled indignantly to her feet.

"Who was that?" She asked, looking back up toward her attacker. She heard only giggling before she was clubbed in the back of the head by another pillow. Feathers blurred her vision, but as they fell she caught a glimpse of dark blue hair and milky pale skin darting under the concealment of a nearby willow.

"It's not fair, ganging up on her like that, you know." She heard from above. The voice oozed sensuality, a low purr that could only be...

"Melee!" Ariya saw the woman who was more than ten years her elder standing on a nearby walkway, holding two pillows.

"Catch!" Melee said, and threw one of them to her. Ariya snatched it out of the air just in time to spin and catch Shiv in the side of the head. Ariya prepared to fend off another attack. Shiv shook the feathers from her midnight locks.

"Good morning, Ariya." She said innocently. Sunlight played along the shiny silver of her thin robes, highlighting the pleasant curves of her breasts, and her womanly hips. Shiv loved silver, the color of starlight, and numerous identical silver bracelets circled both arms. Lord Bael brought her a new one every time he traveled to a certain mining village in the mountains. Ariya didn't understand why she delighted in receiving the same bracelet over and over again, but there was nothing as happy as seeing Shiv's bright smile. Shiv was Ariya's closest friend in the harem. They could talk about anything and whenever Ariya had found herself in trouble, Shiv was always there to bail her out.

"I know of many more polite ways to say good morning than by knocking me nearly to my death."

Shiv pouted playfully, "Aww, that wasn't me, I promise."

"Where is your partner in crime? Eri!?" Giggles preceded the blond curly hair and emerald eyes that peered down from Ariya's platform above. Eri leapt gracefully from the platform, landing only long enough to spring onto Ariya in a playful tackle.

"Don't be grumpy with me, Ariya." Eri's voice was the high pitched music of a songbird, "I came up to say good morning, but you were so deep in thought. I never get an opportunity like that." Eri never wore clothing, not even when she walked around the keep. Ariya wrapped her arms around Eri's thin waist and planted a couple of quick kisses on her lips.

"I can't be grumpy with you, kitten, although I try very hard." Eri snuggled her neck fondly. At ten-and-eight, she was the youngest girl in the harem. She was affectionate and kind, and sometimes at night she would crawl into Ariya's bed and Ariya would spend all night wrapping her fingers in Eri's silky golden curls.

"She gets kisses, but not a word of thanks for your savior?" Ariya looked up, but could only see long legs a thin patch of red hair between them. Melee knelt down next to them, large breasts bouncing freely above her crossed arms.

Even after a couple of months in the harem, Ariya was still a little frightened of Melee. In contrast to Eri, she was the oldest woman in the harem at six-and-thirty. And she ruled over the other twenty seven women with an iron fist. Yet, she was the only mother figure some of them had known, some even claimed she had a soft side. Fond of female flesh, she didn't tend to Lord Bael's needs very often, but instead was responsible for instructing the women of his harem with the arts of lovemaking. There were times, however, when the Lord would hunger for her dominating spirit, and the sounds of whips and shouts could be heard long into the night.

"She's all mine, you can't have her." Eri said mockingly.

"Is that so?" Melee pulled Eri off of Ariya and began to tickle her ruthlessly. Eri shrieked and her infectious laugh rang loudly through the grotto like a thousand tiny bells. She was sweating and panting with exhaustion when Melee finally relented. Eri flopped down onto the moss next to Ariya.

"It's not fair, Melee, you know all my ticklish spots." Ariya watched Eri's small breasts rise and fall in tired gasps, body glistening with a thin layer of perspiration. Her cheeks were flush and she licked her smooth, plump lips, pushing curls out of her face with a slender-fingered hand.

"I don't know, Melee, the way Ariya is looking at her, perhaps we should leave the two of them alone for awhile." Ariya felt a rush of color to her own face, and sent a glare at Shiv. Though she had grown accustomed to seeing naked women, and the sights and sounds of lovemaking, she was still embarrassed by her own desires. Though she was affectionate with her sisters in the harem, she preferred privacy and discretion over the exhibitionist displays many of the them favored.