“Good evening, my little one. Are you well rested from your journey?” he queried pleasantly.
“Yes, my lord.”
“And Adora has made you feel comfortable, and welcome?”
“Adora?”
“My kadin Theadora,” he said. “I have always called her Adora.”
“Oh, yes,” said Thamar. She felt a twinge of resentment. She also felt very self-conscious in her nudity. She flushed and the sultan laughed low.
He reached out and pulled the pins from her hair, which tumbled down to cover her. “Exquisite,” he murmured. “Utterly exquisite.” Lifting the coverlet he invited, “Come under and be warm.”
Sliding beneath the rich robe, she saw that he was indeed nude. She lay still and straight and as far away from him as she dared. He reached over and pulled her closer. She was too afraid to protest.
“Do you know what I am going to do to you?” he asked her.
“Yes. You are to fuck me for that is how babies are made,” she answered him.
“Do you know what that means, Thamar?” He strongly suspected that she did not. These Christian girls were always so poorly prepared for a man. “Have you ever seen the animals mate?”
“No, my lord. I was raised in a castle, not a farmyard. Such indelicate sights are not meant for my eyes. My brothers’ wives did tell me that, even though I was only to be your leman, I was to submit to you in all things as if you were really my husband. They said what men and women did to make babies was called ‘fucking’, but I know not what they meant and they would not tell me. They said my husband would explain all things.”
He sighed. “You have heard of the manroot?”
“Yes.”
“Good!” He took her hand, and put it between his legs. “Touch it, sweet,” he commanded her. “Fondle it gently. That is the manroot. At the moment it is soft and at rest, but as my desire for you grows it will increase in size. Through it flows my seed.”
Hesitantly, she let her fingers close around him. For a few moments she did nothing more than hold him. Then, as her touch grew surer, she caressed him boldly. The warm touch began to rouse him, and as he grew harder and bigger in her hand, she gasped with surprise. Dropping the manroot, she drew back.
He laughed delightedly. “Fear not, little virgin, it is not yet time for us to be joined. Lesson Two involves where the manroot goes to plant my seed.” He reached down and touched the soft, sensitive area between her legs. She gasped again and tried to pull away. But the sultan held her firmly with one arm while a finger gently explored her most intimate places. “There is where I will enter you,” he said softly, then withdrew his hand. “It is too soon. First I would have a kiss from you, Thamar, and then I will explore all of your lovely body.”
He shifted her so that she was beneath him and, bending down, found the wide, generous mouth. His first taste told him that she had never been kissed. It reminded him of Adora’s lips when they had stolen kisses in the orchard of St. Catherine’s so long ago. He pressed his mouth down harder against the girl beneath him, forcing the lips to part, then plunged his tongue into her mouth. To his surprise, her tongue fenced skillfully with his, which increased his ardor.
His hands found her little breasts and he squeezed, enjoying the feel of them. Then he bent his head to cover the small globes with hot kisses. His mouth sucked each nipple long and lovingly, and Thamar moaned with a sense of growing pleasure.
Allah, but she was sweet flesh, this royal virgin! His hands slid over her satiny, trembling body. This was how it should have been with Adora, he thought. Murad let his lips wander down the smooth torso, feeling her pulse jump under his seeking mouth. She quivered and squirmed with passion.
Murad pulled himself up and found her mouth again, placing little kisses at the corners, pleased when she caught his head in her hands and forced his lips back to hers for another kiss. She sighed, whispering his name when he nuzzled at her little ear. “Thamar, my little virgin, I will not take you until you feel ready. But you must tell me,” he murmured in her golden hair.
“Oh, now, my lord! Please now.”
Pleased with her eagerness, he separated her thighs with his knee and, guiding his manhood with a hand, found her. Beneath him, Thamar tensed. The throbbing urgency between her legs was driving her almost mad with longing. She had no idea what it was she sought, but she knew it had to do with this man who was now her lord and master.
She could feel him enter her, filling her with his bulk. Then something blocked his passage. Disappointed, she moaned petulantly, “It is not enough! Not enough!”
Murad laughed in the heat of his lust. “There is more, eager, greedy one. First there will be pain, Thamar, then sweet delight. And never again will there be pain.”
“Oh, yes!” she panted, straining against him.
Slowly he moved within the girl, driving her to a fever pitch. Then suddenly Thamar felt a terrible and unbearable burning pain spreading throughout her belly. Frightened, she cried out and tried to twist away from him, but he held her firmly, driving deeper and harder into her. Then the pain began to recede, leaving only delight. It was as he had promised. No longer fearful, she moved with him until he brought her to a perfect climax. Satisfied that she was fulfilled in her first sexual encounter, he went on to find his own pleasure.
Thamar was still floating with delight as Murad sought his own perfection. The sisters had never told her how delicious this fucking really was. They had tried to frighten her, the bitches! Thamar tenderly held the man laboring over her, rubbing the small of his back with innocently skillful little fingertips, thrusting her hips up to meet his downward motion. Oh, heaven! It was sweet! Sweet!
Then suddenly the hardness of the manroot within her broke and she was flooded with warm wetness. The man above her collapsed, sobbing, “Adora! My own, sweet Adora!”
Thamar stiffened. She could not have heard it.
Thamar lay rigid with anger. It was bad enough to have been forced into a harem, a harem ruled by an exquisitely beautiful woman who obviously held the sultan’s heart. Here she stifled a sob. Not even to be free of that woman in the most intimate of moments! It was unforgivable! He was an unfeeling brute, and as for Theadora-the worst vengeance Thamar could think of was not enough.
Adora! Thamar felt a sour taste rise in the back of her throat. Adora! She was so beautiful, so assured, so safe in Murad’s love. There was nothing left for anyone else. The Byzantine had spoiled the sultan for anyone else. Thamar ached, for she too wanted to be loved.
The sultan would continue to bed with her until his seed found root in her womb. Then he would return to his beloved Adora, who was obviously never out of his thoughts even when he coupled with other women. A black and bitter hatred for Theadora was born in the Bulgarian girl. She knew not how she would do it, but someday she would be revenged.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Within a short time of her initial bedding Thamar was sure she was pregnant. Shortly, she was proved correct. But even here she was not to be the center of attention for Adora was also with child. This reminded Thamar that she was just one of the harem. She was resentful of the other women. At first they put this down to her nervous condition, but later they realized it was her true attitude. Those who might have been her friends faded quickly away. Thamar was left alone.
Adora understood the younger girl’s apparent misery for she had once been in a similar situation. She asked Murad to give Thamar the Court of the Blue Dolphins for her own. This was the smallest of the Island Serai’s six courts, but it would be Thamar’s own domain. Perhaps this mark of distinction would cheer her. Adora remembered well her own early days in the Bursa Palace with the unkind Anastatia sniping at her in an effort to make her miscarry Halil. She had been as frightened, unhappy, and miserable as young Thamar seemed to be.
For her show of kindness Adora was treated to a temper tantrum.
“Are you trying to isolate me?” snarled Thamar.
