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Authors: Tracey O'Hara
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flesh.
One of her former masters had cursed her with these carnal desires several decades ago, inadvertently wasting a wish when she cowered from his touch. Now when the heat came upon her as it was wont to do at any time, it would consume her until she satisfied the hunger for release.
Ishari’s core flooded with the heavy ache of her need. She didn’t want to watch this, and yet she couldn’t turn away. Her nipples ached and she squeezed them through her silk robes, only heightening the throbbing between her legs. The redhead slid between his knees, obscuring the sight of his magnificent cock and Ishari groaned with both desire and frustration.
Her master—Caleb, as he had bid her call him—closed his eyes as he leaned back, burying his hands in the thick mane of hair as the woman’s head rose and lowered over his groin. His lips parted in a silent moan.
Ishari could stand it no more. She turned away from the seeing waters and slipped off her robes as she made her way to the pond on the other side of the courtyard. The water caressed her skin like a lover’s embrace as she descended the stairs into the dark depths.
She stroked out to the centre where the water was cooler. How she wanted him to call her, but then he would be lost to her forever. And that thought made her heart heavier than stone.
Ishari swam to the other side of the pool where a small waterfall splashed lazily from the rocks above. The memory of the pleasure on his face haunted her. She gripped the stone edge of the pool with one hand and treaded water as she slipped the other between her legs. A soft sigh escaped her lips. While the water around her was cool, the junction between her legs was hot, swollen and sensitive. Her finger brushed her clit, sending a shiver of almost painful ecstasy through her womb and tightened her already hard nipples.
There was nothing for it. The need became a low ache in her belly and would grow into incapacitating cramps if she didn’t take care of it soon. She pulled herself up and laid back on the stone ledge under the waterfall, sinking back on one elbow as her hand continued to work between her thighs. The pounding torrent plastered against her face and flowed over her hypersensitive breasts. She closed her eyes, losing herself in the intense sensation of pleasure as she slowly caressed the sensitive nub of her clit.
Ishari’s eyes snapped open as another hand touched the inside of her thigh. Mari’s beautiful features appeared between Ishari’s legs. The girl had been her servant for nearly five years now, one of a long line over the centuries that Ishari had served as the Djinn. They came from a far off place just as she had at sixteen and then left on the twenty-first anniversary of their birth. Mari was only a few weeks off that day.
Ishari had been a servant to the Djinn before her, just like Mari, and one day the gold bracelets of power had appeared on her wrists, binding her to servitude of a different kind. She had never seen her former mistress again, nor learned what had become of her.
A shiver ran up her spine. “Fetch Hussein,” Ishari groaned.
“Mistress, please …” Mari’s strange amber eyes filled with desire as they dropped to Ishari’s exposed sex. “He’s not here.”
Ishari’s clit throbbed and an almost painful spasm shot through her womb. The girl climbed up onto the stone ledge, the waterfall soaking her raven hair as she leaned over to brush Ishari’s nipple. A gasp escaped her before she could bite it back.
Mari looked into her eyes and purposely ran the tip of her finger across the taut flesh. “Mistress, your need is great. Allow me to help you.” Mari dropped her eyes as a blush swept her cheeks the colour of fine spice.
The girl’s demure innocence only enhanced her raw sensuality. Mari was a creature of natural sexuality and great desire with a body that would drive any man, or woman even, to distraction. Sometimes when Hussein wasn’t able to service
One of her former masters had cursed her with these carnal desires several decades ago, inadvertently wasting a wish when she cowered from his touch. Now when the heat came upon her as it was wont to do at any time, it would consume her until she satisfied the hunger for release.
Ishari’s core flooded with the heavy ache of her need. She didn’t want to watch this, and yet she couldn’t turn away. Her nipples ached and she squeezed them through her silk robes, only heightening the throbbing between her legs. The redhead slid between his knees, obscuring the sight of his magnificent cock and Ishari groaned with both desire and frustration.
Her master—Caleb, as he had bid her call him—closed his eyes as he leaned back, burying his hands in the thick mane of hair as the woman’s head rose and lowered over his groin. His lips parted in a silent moan.
Ishari could stand it no more. She turned away from the seeing waters and slipped off her robes as she made her way to the pond on the other side of the courtyard. The water caressed her skin like a lover’s embrace as she descended the stairs into the dark depths.
She stroked out to the centre where the water was cooler. How she wanted him to call her, but then he would be lost to her forever. And that thought made her heart heavier than stone.
Ishari swam to the other side of the pool where a small waterfall splashed lazily from the rocks above. The memory of the pleasure on his face haunted her. She gripped the stone edge of the pool with one hand and treaded water as she slipped the other between her legs. A soft sigh escaped her lips. While the water around her was cool, the junction between her legs was hot, swollen and sensitive. Her finger brushed her clit, sending a shiver of almost painful ecstasy through her womb and tightened her already hard nipples.
There was nothing for it. The need became a low ache in her belly and would grow into incapacitating cramps if she didn’t take care of it soon. She pulled herself up and laid back on the stone ledge under the waterfall, sinking back on one elbow as her hand continued to work between her thighs. The pounding torrent plastered against her face and flowed over her hypersensitive breasts. She closed her eyes, losing herself in the intense sensation of pleasure as she slowly caressed the sensitive nub of her clit.
Ishari’s eyes snapped open as another hand touched the inside of her thigh. Mari’s beautiful features appeared between Ishari’s legs. The girl had been her servant for nearly five years now, one of a long line over the centuries that Ishari had served as the Djinn. They came from a far off place just as she had at sixteen and then left on the twenty-first anniversary of their birth. Mari was only a few weeks off that day.
Ishari had been a servant to the Djinn before her, just like Mari, and one day the gold bracelets of power had appeared on her wrists, binding her to servitude of a different kind. She had never seen her former mistress again, nor learned what had become of her.
A shiver ran up her spine. “Fetch Hussein,” Ishari groaned.
“Mistress, please …” Mari’s strange amber eyes filled with desire as they dropped to Ishari’s exposed sex. “He’s not here.”
Ishari’s clit throbbed and an almost painful spasm shot through her womb. The girl climbed up onto the stone ledge, the waterfall soaking her raven hair as she leaned over to brush Ishari’s nipple. A gasp escaped her before she could bite it back.
Mari looked into her eyes and purposely ran the tip of her finger across the taut flesh. “Mistress, your need is great. Allow me to help you.” Mari dropped her eyes as a blush swept her cheeks the colour of fine spice.
The girl’s demure innocence only enhanced her raw sensuality. Mari was a creature of natural sexuality and great desire with a body that would drive any man, or woman even, to distraction. Sometimes when Hussein wasn’t able to service
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