Waking, I wonder;
What raiment does the breeze wear
On this first day of spring?
A fine spun, fragrant mantle
Borrowed from the swaying blooms!
- The Canticle of Menkeret.
I lie in my pallet and, as is now my custom, I listen closely to the nocturnal sounds of the house of Heshuzius. But, after an hour or so of this, my mind inevitably wanders to former times, to the days before my enslavement, to the house where I grew up and its life of happy, carefree idleness.
In those days, my father would read to me daily from the many sacred books of our people, reserving the end of each lesson for selections from the Canticle of Menkeret. Parts of the sacred Canticle I quickly learnt by heart, but knowledge of other chapters was forbidden to me. When I asked him why, as I frequently did, his response was always,
“I cannot foresee the consequences of you possessing such knowledge.”
Even my mother who has attained the rank of Divine Adoratrice in the temenos of Mehen, the Enveloper, was forbidden to read certain parts of the Canticle. She accepted this with good grace. Not so I.
My father had studied the arts of sorcery and necromancy for over twenty years and only then were the proscribed texts revealed to him by his teachers; masters in the art, which was as old as time itself. My father’s masters were old men too, or so it seemed to me. Once I told one of them so, only to receive a sharp rebuke. I was certain of one thing: that I did not want to wait until I was as old as they to fully learn the art of sorcery. As my father had no son, I was to be his heir. I was pleased, for sorceresses are rare in the long history of Mentrassanae. I was to be the successor of Mykita Umm Kala and Zia Tal Kadzior; my idol, who had lived, worked her magic and had been a lover and confidant of kings over five hundred years before my birth. My father encouraged my youthful adoration of these remarkable, almost legendary Mentrassan women while never believing that I could be their equal. I will prove him wrong yet.
The keeper of my father’s books and manuscripts was a man called Dorzi. He was a scholar, about twice my age. A handsome but reserved and bookish man, Dorzi was more at home amongst the old tomes than he was in the company of men or women, and he was infinitely more conversant with arcane lore and ancient tongues than with feminine wiles. He was the only servant my father would allow in his study and apart from my father, Dorzi seldom associated with the other occupants of the house.
One night when my father was away and my mother was busy entertaining one of her lovers, I slipped from my chamber. My father’s study was in the far wing of the house. It took me a long while to reach it by candlelight. It was also imperative that I go there unseen for I was forbidden to enter the room without my father. My journey was easier than I expected for most of the senior servants were engaged in the kitchens and cellars and the chamber maids had retired for the night. I crept into the study dressed in the most diaphanous of my night gowns; a fine garment, gossamer thin and costly. My hair hung back like a black mane, reaching far down my back. My eyes wide with awe, I paused by the large balcony window. Outside, a full moon hung in a cloudless sky; a moon as yellow as rich butter upon a field of stars; like countless fires dotted across the deep blue firmament.
“May I help you?” said a quiet voice behind me.”
Without turning I smiled; this was my quarry.
“May I be of assistance to you?” he asked again more firmly.
Now I turned slowly, fully conscious that the moonlight would be shining through the gossamer gown, illuminating my naked body beneath. I leant back against the window frame and smiled warmly.
“Ah, you must be Dorazi.”
“Dor-zi, my lady,” he corrected me and bowed. “Forgive me but what brings you here at this hour? You must remember that your father…………”
“I was merely passing and wanted to see the view from this balcony. Is it not wondrous Dorazi? I’ve always loved it. Come and see it.”
As he approached, I saw that he was a slim man, younger looking and better built than I remembered; having seen him only once or twice since the commencement of his service. He looked up at the night sky,
“Aye my lady, it is very beautiful, but your presence here must…………”
I turned to face him sharply, arching my back and thrusting my chest slowly forward. We were of equal height, making it difficult for him to avoid looking at my breasts.
“Dorzi, my lady.”
“I care not what they call you,” I whispered.
This took him aback and he paused awkwardly for a moment, then the officious tone returned.
“I simply must admonish you and remind you that your father forbids……………….”
“Admonish me Dorazi? What insolence. Are you not a servant of this house?”
I slipped my hand between the folds of the gown and drew half of it aside, revealing my breast. I smiled and now he met my eye. I could hear him draw breath. I held him in awe.
Slowly I stepped forward, letting the gown slip from my shoulders. He looked down at my breasts glowing with the moonlight, he was silent, just the way I preferred him.
“Speak no more. What must pass between us requires no words.”
I spoke with gravity, making him look at me wide eyed. Maintaining my steady gaze, melting him with my eyes, I slowly unbuttoned his blue silk robes and reached for his belt. He breathed audibly and looked down. He grit his teeth then half opened his mouth,
“Ah, I warn you, if you speak, I will leave.”
He blinked and shut his mouth. I smiled, satisfied at how nicely I had turned the situation to my advantage. I now looked up at his piercing black eyes and gave him a look full of mischief. Drawing his trousers down, I reached for his cock. It was loose, long and cool, and made a satisfying handful. I squeezed it and began to massage it gently. Dorzi sighed and to my surprise, his cock began to swell quickly. Soon it stood out against the deep blue of his robes, curving up wards towards my face. This was the type of cock that I liked; I told Dorzi so, with a smile. He smiled back but said nothing,
“Good,” I thought, “I’ve taught you to behave.”
I set my knees down on the cool stone floor and wrapped my lips around his cock. My hand slipped down to its very base and the work that I performed there ensured that Dorzi’s organ remained at full attention. At first I teased him with my mouth; licking and sucking the head of his cock intensely for a minute then stopping to gauge his reaction. This always seemed to leave him with a hint of a doubt as to whether I would continue. Of course I did continue and I would be lying if I said I did not enjoy the task.
Now I noticed that he had shut his eyes and relaxed his muscles; tension is never a good thing. I took his shaft deeper into my mouth and savoured its warmth and texture. My tongue teased and licked its whole length while I kept my lips firmly locked around him. My hand now tickled and teased his balls through the folds of his robes. I could feel him becoming harder and harder. His hand strayed to my hair and I felt him gently stroke it; I didn’t mind. Taking him out of my mouth, I ran my tongue all down the base of his shaft and concentrated my efforts on the base where I felt his balls contract. I settled down to licking his shaft with long, deep strokes as though it was some delicious fruit.
To add to my performance; I moaned deeply, throwing my hair from side to side and swiveling my hips. I could tell he was enjoying all this – soon he would be as pliable as warm beeswax in my hands. At last I told him to recline upon the floor. To see his glistening cock, curving up in the moonlight, was impressive – my handiwork, I was justly proud of it. I now narrowed my eyes and locked them onto his. I beheld awe upon his face and even a hint of fear. If I had been a she-demon, barely disguised, he would have looked no different.
I placed a hand on ether side of his hips and plunged his cock into my mouth and throat. Rapidly I worked as much of his shaft as I could swallow; using my lips and my tongue and lightly raking his skin with my teeth. Faster and faster, harder and harder I worked, until I could hear a faint buzz. It was Dorzi’s breathing. I paused after several minutes too look at him. He had settled down and arched his back with his hands grasping the fabric of his robes. He looked like a sacrificial goat trussed upon a marble altar.
I smiled and swiftly returned to the task. The renewed onslaught of my mouth was too much for poor Dorzi. I felt his entire body tense, almost convulse; he gasped as I let his cock slip slowly from my lips. I took its base and worked it hard until thick, white ropes of come erupted from its tip. One, two, three, four of them; I watched with satisfaction as each one twisted and spiraled high into the air then landed upon his silken robes.
“Hmm, it seems there is some fire in your blood after all.”
I let go of him and sat back to survey my work with satisfaction. Dorzi, still panting like a puppy, got up onto his forearms and looked at me. Wonder had replaced fear in his eyes. I stood up and towered over him. Shedding my gown, I took a step towards him and placed my foot lightly upon his chest. He looked up at my naked body in total adoration.
“Leave me here and return in two hours. By that time I will have departed and let us say nothing of this to my father. Is that understood?”
I gave him a playful kick and turned towards the window. He quickly gathered his stained robes without uttering a word and strode out of the room. I bolted the door and shuttered the balcony widow. I sat still upon the floor with my arms outspread and my mind entered that state we call arru-sha. It is a meditative state that it is necessary for one to enter in order to receive the revelation of the gods. After several minutes of deep concentration my mind cleared and a verse from the sacred canticle entered my mind;
Night surrounds me
With her cloak of silken blue;
Warm and all-embracing,
Speak to me of mysteries
In your whispered, honeyed tones.
Oh, how apt this was! Verily, it was a sign! My mind raced with excitement as I rose and opened the window again. Quickly fetching a flint and taper, I lit a candelabrum and placed it upon my father’s desk. I took down the heavy volume of the Canticle of Menkeret from the shelf behind his chair and settled down. It was a beautiful ancient book; bound in rich, intricately tooled leather and braced with ornate brass. I turned each gold edged page in wonder and with reverence, trying to take in the intricate runes and diagrams and the sometimes obscure allegorical language.
I found much in the book that I had not heard or read before and that was not in the freely available selections from the Canticle that anyone might own. Although some of the verses were almost meaningless to me, I still drew my mind back into the state of arru-sha, and recited the words aloud. Nothing happened, but after about an hour, a strange feeling began to well up from the pit of my stomach. It was a great, slow lethargy like that brought on by the lack of sleep. But I was not tired. I rose from the chair and looked down at the book; the words on the page began to move and spin, swimming before my eyes sickeningly so that I had to look away.
I grasped the edge of the desk to steady myself then, to my horror, I found that I could hardly move my legs. I struggled with the desk and managed to haul myself away from the book. I tried to turn and then found that my legs were utterly useless. My hips followed and soon my arms froze where I had raised them to balance my body. After a moment, I could not turn my head and I became conscious of a warm feeling all over; as though I was in a warm bath. Finally, I was totally and inexplicably immobile; facing the balcony window and the streaming moonlight.
Another hour must then have passed for I heard Dorzi scratching at the door and calling my name softly. I was able to blink my eyes but my lips were as immobile as those upon a statue of bronze. After a while Dorzi departed, leaving me in total silence. Fear now grew in my mind; I knew not what I had done to bring this condition about, nor did I know if there would be any way out of it.
The remaining hours of the night passed slowly; the candles eventually burnt down and were extinguished, leaving me only the moonlight. Dawn broke at last; another beautiful summer’s day. I hoped that my absence at breakfast, which I never missed, might initiate the search for me or I hoped that Dorzi would have reported seeing me last night to my mother, but I was mistaken. Hours passed and still I stood there by my father’s desk; naked and immobile as a rock. I estimated that the house would take hours to search even if my mother had mobilized all of the servants and guards.
Finally, late in the afternoon, I heard activity outside the door. As it was firmly bolted, there was little chance of anyone coming to my rescue from that direction. Another hour passed and now I heard my stomach growling with hunger. I saw a rope drop down onto the balcony. Salvation at last? A pair of sturdy brown leather boots appeared then, like a plump, velvety spider descending on his silken thread, I saw the reassuringly round form of Marrukka. This man was our chief steward, the son of my father’s oldest retainer; a trusted and valued servant, a friend. He alighted softly upon the marble floor, took one look at me and averted his eyes. At that instant his gruff voice was the most comforting sound I could possibly have heard,
“Oh Lady Kayla, we have been searching the whole house for you. Spent hours we have. Your poor mother has been very worried”
When I didn’t move or answer Marrukka did not seem overly surprised; this comes of living in the house of a sorcerer. He went out onto the balcony and called up to someone on the floor above. After several minutes, a large cotton sheet was dropped to him which he unfolded and held up before his eyes. He approached me slowly, almost comically, as though he were about to cast a net over some venomous animal. He draped the sheet around me, fastened it and turned to face me.
“Now my lady, I can talk to you. Your father is going to be away for another day but if we can get word to him, I’m sure he will return and get you out of…… out of…. whatever it is that you’ve done to yourself.”
I blinked several times, attempting to indicate that I had heard him and that I understood. He smiled kindly and reassuringly; he had always been very fond of me. Now there was a loud knocking at the door and Marrukka ran to draw the bolt. The next thing I saw was my mother’s baleful countenance…………………
No one in the household knew how to break the enchantment and Dorzi was nowhere to be found. My mother could have called a sorcerer to break it but she chose not to. For this I do not blame her; the scandal alone would have been intolerable and my father would have been the laughing stock of his guild.
After our house physician had determined beyond doubt that I was indeed alive, my mother had her maids carry me, stiff as a plank of ship’s wood, to my chamber. There they lay me upon my bed until my father’s return on the following day. He cleared the room of people, put himself into arru-sha and broke the spell. Then my troubles began in earnest……………
I look back on that day with fondness even though my parents punished me. They confined me to my chamber without pleasure or recreation for one month. The maids who brought my food and changed my linen were not even permitted to speak to me. My only regret was that it was the month of Kurnoss when, on the twentieth day, it was my custom to sacrifice to the gods and offer orisons on behalf of the soul of Oltos, my lost love.