Tiffany Clare - The Surrender of a Lady

Hips thrust in time to the primitive beat of the drum, one of the girls sang out a high-pitched nasal chord—the sound astonishing in its melodiousness.

Maybe the mood of the room added to the seductive quality of the song?

They all twirled together, thrust together . bright shades of yellow, purple, red, blue, orange fanned out and pulsed as they stopped and clapped their hands above their head and put their heel to the stone floor, the sounds of bells chiming in harmony with the drum and tambourine.

Amir pressed forward, his chin resting on her shoulder, his hand still splayed on her lower belly, kneading her with increasing thrusts as the tempo of the music intensified. Looking around the room, Jinan expected to see eyes trained on her but none were. Everyone was focused on the dancers or the paramour keeping them company.

She gained more confidence with every breath she took. With a tilt of her head to the side she rested her cheekbone to Amir’s and closed her eyes. In another time, another place, so long ago she could remember another man that held her close like this. A man too high in the instep for a woman of her nature. Proof of that lay in her current profession. It mattered not that he’d proposed to her on their final night together.

The heavy scent of jasmine wafted through the open room, wrapping her in its cocoon as Amir pressed his arousal into her lower back. The memory was lost then.

Amir’s hands never ceased, even being so bold as to brush over her naked mound with his seeking fingers. She could almost forget they were in a room full of men assessing her every charm.

“You have done well thus far,” Amir whispered, his breath raspy. “I knew you were ready for this.”

She said nothing in response, only inhaled deeply as his hand grazed over her peaked nipples.

“Let us leave this lot to their own devices. I have plans for you tonight, Jinan. I will show you a little paradise.”

She nodded her head in agreement, her breath held in her lungs. She was almost worried he’d take her here against her wishes. With a push on her bottom, he had her standing, the jut of his arousal firm against her backside as he slid off the divan. They went slowly, their steps timed to the music as he walked her back into the harem’s private quarters.

This evening hadn’t been so terrible a task after all. Amir had already told her she was expected at his side for the next auction in six months’ time. After that she’d take her turn being bid upon. She wondered what he’d do to her next when in the company of these depraved whore-hunting men. It was only a matter of time before he was more daring, pushing her to the edge of her comfort levels.

She knew his plan was to force her to get used to this life. Otherwise she’d never come out of the ignorant shell of what her life really was, as Laila pointed out all too often.

Did it really matter what he did to her in public or private?

The answer shouldn’t surprise her—it didn’t matter.

As they walked past the eunuchs she realized Elena—the woman she used to be—had been left behind in the throng of overzealous pleasure seekers. She didn’t know where exactly Elena had left off. But somewhere along her path tonight, she ceased to be.

Elena no longer existed.

In time she knew without doubt that she’d accept this way of life. Would she ever again give thought to the destructive nature this seemed to have on her moral personality?

What else would she lose of herself in the coming months? In the coming years?

Would she even remember the person she was? Maybe Jinan was who she was always meant to be?

The ease and grace with which she was slowly accepting this life went against her proper English sensibilities. Did this mean she harbored some character flaw, some fissure in her morals? Maybe the flaw had been festering and had finally overcome her gentle nature once exposed to the vices offered here. It must have always been within her if she’d so easily turned into this woman.

If she had so easily embraced this way of life.

Every step toward the private harem quarters, toward the bedroom with Amir, reinforced that conviction. This was not duty but something she had accepted over the months.

With every step away from the men she felt a thrill pumping in her blood. Instead of the repulsion Elena should feel about catering to these men’s desires in the near future, Jinan felt liberated.

This was her. Jinan. A woman hiding beneath a veil but willing to take on any challenge, not a simpering miss hiding behind her fears.

Was it perhaps because she felt safe here? Because she knew her son was safe in this wanton world of sex, scandal, and strange proclivities unfathomable to her as of yet?

Coming to terms with this life felt good in her soul. She’d been unleashed from her old restrictive life and felt a strange freedom of her senses, heart, and mind.

Now she was and would forever be Jinan.

Ironically, this was paradise.

Her paradise.

She should have no qualms about such an innocent act. Her modesty had been stripped from her long ago, and the marble dais was not unfamiliar to her. She stood up here once a year. But she still hated looking down at her bidders like the great whore of Babylon. The most irksome thing about taking her place up here was she couldn’t wear anything aside from her jewelry and veil.

Who would purchase her favors today?

Jinan leaned toward her harem sister, who stood on the floor beside the dais.

“Asbury talked with me earlier. As interested as he is in spending time with me, he seems to lose at every auction. Do you think he’ll try again?”

“I’ve got my eye on Asbury, Jinan. Don’t you think of stealing his attentions.”

Sana rolled her eyes and snorted under her breath, whispering, “He can’t afford you. Maybe when you’re saggy, wrinkled, and gray.”

Jinan gave a deep laugh and shook her head; her dark hair, which hung in loose waves, tickled her backside. The small coins that edged her veil clinked together with the movement. She searched out Asbury. “Where is he, Sana? He arrived with another gentleman. I didn’t see his friend, did you?”

“I don’t know who he is. But I’d love for him to play some games with me.” Sana stood on tiptoe and pointed to the outskirts of the room. “Handsome as the devil. But you won’t see him clearly, he’s too far off.”

Jinan followed her sister’s finger. Sana was right; all she saw was Asbury’s outline. He turned from the man shadowed by the arched pillars and strode toward the podium. Asbury was a young tradesman with a long, thin nose that didn’t quite suit his face, but handsome enough that it wouldn’t repulse her to spend time in his company.

As Asbury came closer, his gaze became more pensive. He would bid on her today; she could tell by the stance he took with his finger and thumb worrying his chin. It was in the way he studied her from head to toe, already imagining what he’d do to her once they were alone. He wasn’t her first choice among the men here, but he wasn’t the worst option, either.

He looked over Sana, then turned back to her. “Looking ripe as usual, my pretty doves.”

Jinan cocked one brow. “Yes, but the question is whether or not you’re interested enough to pay handsomely for our time?”

“I’d be more than happy to lord over you, princess.”

“I don’t think you’ll be testing her wares for a while yet,” Count Villieux called out, “you old goat.”

Asbury whirled on his heel to glare at the younger man. Really, they couldn’t be more than a few years apart. “Have some respect. And pull yourself together before talking to your betters, you French swine.” There wasn’t much venom to his words. The count laughed and continued his ministrations to Maram.

Maram was staked to Count Villieux’s groin. His jaw was squared, eyes clouded with lust, as his concentration slid back to his mistress. His hands grasped her hips, moving his rigid length within her as she leaned forward on her elbows. Maram smiled up at the podium and winked.

Jinan shook her head and winked back. The more she flirted with everyone around her, the more the patrons would pay. The more they paid, the more Amir would tuck away for her son.

Other men watched the auction with lovers in their laps as well. Some embraced rather provocatively, uncaring of the greater audience, others were more modest—relatively modest for such a debauched setting. Asbury found a divan close by and crossed his ankle over his knee as he settled in, waiting for the proceedings to start.

The chairs and divans stretched out before her were filled with the evening’s pleasure seekers. Bold colors were brazenly displayed in the bolsters and throws. Animal furs cushioned the floor near the furniture; rich Turkish carpets covered the rest of the floor in various shades of reds, oranges, and browns in the center. The lively colors incited the lustiness of the patrons currently in coitus. Her first time in this room she’d thought the welcome ironic—a showy, gilded prison for the harem girls.

Now the flashiness was just another facet of the place she considered her home.

The room boasted a great domed ceiling with holes pierced through the roof allowing daylight to shine through. Three eunuchs blocked the only door that led to the outer palace, and scimitars flashed at their waists in warning to any man who thought to take more liberties than tolerable. The only persons permitted through that door were Amir and the gentlemen who purchased the girls’ favors. She had no desire to leave through that door, except to perhaps see the rest of the palace. She’d been content staying in the harem quarters. The eunuchs were no threat to her—not to any of the girls—only to the patrons who did not abide by Amir’s rules.