16th Century Slave Market Pt. 03

Ysabel

Odd noises woke the group in the morning. Large wooden tubs rolled through the door, followed by slaves bearing water. Bath time. Before the women could step into the cold water, they had to spread themselves out on the benches for a fresh shave. The eunuchs seemed unusually thorough in checking every inch for missed hairs.

By the time the last maiden had scrubbed herself and her garment, the water was nearly black. Towels did not seem to exist in this world; they shuffled outside to dry in the sun in an enclosed area. Ysabel hung her scrap of clothing over a fence and joined the others, all trying not to peek at each other's scandalously bare bodies.

Long before the garments were completely dry, the women drew them on to preserve what little remained of their modesty. For a short time, they felt clean and covered. But after lunch, dance practice continued.

A small sense of pride emerged as they mastered the rhythms of the exotic routines. Some even managed to partly overcome the shame of nudity at the close of the strenuous performances.

Their knowledge of this strange culture came mainly from old romantic tales. As darkness settled over the room that night, a few whispered conversations circulated about the ancient story of Scheherazade, who came to King Shahryār as a virgin and stayed alive by her wits, mesmerizing him with a new fable each morning.

The classic tale had captured young imaginations over the years, but the present predicament stimulated more than minds. As they fantasized about charming their new Masters, a few began rubbing thighs together and stealthily fingering slick folds. As the idea caught on, the knowledge that it was forbidden only added to the urgency.

Their tiny gasps and heavy breathing during the night brought no response from the guards in the morning. They seemed preoccupied, dealing with extra visitors. A man singled out Ysabel, a girl named Sara and another, Anaïs, and took them to another room, bidding them to kneel at the feet of their Master, Ahmad Ali Pasha.

He spoke to them in Sabir, the polyglot mixture of Italian, Provencal, and Catalan, which was the Lingua Franca of the Mediterranean. He apprised the girls of their fate.

They understood just enough to realize that he had selected them for presentation to the Kizlar Aga of the harem of the Sublime Porte. One of them would join the harem of the Sultan himself.

The three young maidens glanced at each other in amazement. Even in far-off Menorca they had heard stories of the great Sultan Suleiman, known as the Magnificent. These tales, especially of harems, were always more romantic than realistic, but they had accepted that there would be no reprieve from their fate; they knew they would soon be sold, in any case, as sexual playthings to the highest bidders.

Pasha seemed very happy, babbling as they walked a short distance to a building he described as the Avret Bazaar. He pointed out the various slave auctions in progress. "There, see? Those women are from Corsica. Over there — men and women — from Ethiopia." He stared for a long moment at one platform.

He held up a finger, cautioning them to wait while he spoke to the slave dealer, who nodded. The man pulled a naked woman with flame red hair from the group and pushed her through a door. Sara gasped in surprise as she noticed that the woman, alone in the group, still sported a bright red mat between her legs. As Master returned, Ysabel and her companions shuddered at these men's casual command over the lives and fates of women.

At a gesture or a whim, any of them could be consigned to a lifetime in the fields, or to a sweltering kitchen, or to warm the bed of a powerful man.

The group passed into a room in the corner of the market. A man in gold robes bowed deeply to Ali Pasha. Ysabel thought, This must be the chief eunuch, the Kizlar Aga. They engaged in some ritual greetings before Pasha presented the maidens, directing them to a worship position. They stretched out in supplication to the man who would decide their destiny.

Ysabel heard retreating footsteps, realizing that their Master was now most interested in a certain red-haired morsel awaiting his intimate inspection.

Kizlar Aga directed a slave, Yasmin, to take them to the baths, where intensive preparations were already underway. Four slave women were waiting, supervised by a eunuch. Three wooden benches had been set up around a cauldron, sitting over a brazier.

One of the slave women was stirring a mixture in the cauldron which gave off a sweet lemony smell. Ysabel could not imagine the purpose of this cooking. Were they to be given sweetmeats?

The eunuch, clad in red and yellow robes, called them to approach, his high boyish voice indicated he had been emasculated before adulthood.

"Remove your garments and lie down on the benches." He flourished his braided leather whip, the emblem of his office and a reminder to the slaves that they would feel its sting at the slightest sign of disobedience. By now the girls, almost habituated to casual nudity, did not hesitate to pull off their shifts, the only covering they had. Each went to the bench allocated to her and reclined.

The slave women gathered the hair of each girl, pulling it tight and tying it off tightly so that it hung over the end of the bench. Meanwhile, the eunuch was examining the mixture in the cauldron, testing a drop on his arm. Satisfied, he scooped out dollops with a ladle, dropping them onto three marble platters. Each slave woman took one, kneading the gooey mess until a smooth paste was attained.

At last Ysabel realised the purpose of the concoction: some kind of beauty treatment; but what would it achieve? The slave women began to apply the mixture to the girls with wooden spatulas, beginning with their foreheads, covering their whole faces, save for their eyebrows, then moving down their necks, chests and, as the eunuch grasped each nipple, their breasts were raised and coated. The eunuch next took a curved knife and with long skillful strokes, beginning at the hairline, scraped the sticky paste off each girl, moving easily from one to the other.

They were being shaved, thoroughly and perfectly.

The mixture, always spread against the direction of hair growth, trapped every tiny hair, which came away with the shaving. Ysabel realized that this preparation went far beyond the cursory shaving they had previously experienced and that it would not spare her already naked secret parts. Not secret any longer, she blushingly thought, I am being transformed into a living statue.

As expected, the process continued down over her belly, her mons and those lower lips that should never be mentioned, let alone blatantly exposed to view. Her intimate folds received extra attention, stretched, coated and scraped twice. The deep embarrassment masked the inevitable stimulation as she began moving her hips. She thought, He chose me from all the women. I am to offer myself to the Sultan. Ysabel immediately felt shame and tried to banish such thoughts, but a certain pride and fascination at her high status remained.

The depilation of their fronts complete, Ysabel and the other girls were ordered to turn over and the whole process began again on their backs, arms, and legs. Only fear of the eunuch's whip kept Ysabel from protesting as Yasmin paid special attention to her buttocks and the area around her anus. She wriggled uncomfortably until a sharp smack from a spatula warned her to lie still. Surely, she thought, no one would wish to examine her there!

When every trace of hair had been removed from their bodies, right down to the tiny hairs on each toe, the three young virgins were scrubbed down with warm water and sponges, massaged with scented oils, and their long hair washed and combed. At last, they were allowed to relax a little in the warm atmosphere of the baths and were given some pastries and apple tea to break their fast.

"Some went off dearly; fifteen hundred dollars for one Circassian, a sweet girl, were given,

A warranted virgin. Beauty's brightest colours had decked her out in all the hues of heaven.

Her sale sent home some disappointed bawlers, who bade on till the hundreds reached the eleven,

But when the offer went beyond, they knew 'twas for the Sultan, and at once withdrew."

— Don Juan, canto IV, verse 114

At about the eleventh hour, the Kizlar Aga arrived in a sedan chair with a guard of Janissaries. They brought a second chair to carry the prized virgin he would select back to Topkapi Palace. Ali Pasha's man greeted him at the door, ushering him into a cool courtyard furnished with ornate divans. Two slim Syrian slavegirls, naked but for a wisp of transparent cloth around their loins entered, one carrying a tray of dates and the other cups and a flask of strong-smelling bitter coffee.

In the shady courtyard of the slave merchant's warehouse, the ritual exchange of pleasantries between buyer and seller was concluded. At a signal, the three Minorcan beauties were led in, their shimmering veils exquisitely softening the forms within. They formed a line and knelt down on the tiles, prostrating themselves before the man who held their lives in his hands.

The Kizlar Aga gestured that the display should proceed. The dealer unfastened the veil that covered Anaïs' face, turning her left and right to display her profile. He undid the clasp that held up her body veils, which slithered to the ground. Now naked, she was prompted to turn about so that all aspects of her body could be viewed. Ysabel watched with rapt attention as the Chief Eunuch examined every part of her body with practiced ease. Finished, he moved his fingers under his nose and inhaled.

Ysabel was next. She fought to control her mixed feelings of shame and pride as she stood before the Controller of the Sultan's harem. Her veils dropped, and she was made to pose. She thought, I must be chosen! There is no return. She tried to push her small breasts forward. He beckoned her until she was within arm's reach. He stroked her belly, then indicated with a tap on her thigh, to part her legs. She shivered as he ran three fingers along the line of her vulva, capturing and pulling at her lips.

Without thinking she moved against his hand, jerking and gasping as he found her nub of pleasure. He smiled and patted her bottom. Ysabel gave out a faint moan as he stroked and weighed her breasts and tweaked her nipples. Next, her ears and mouth were carefully examined, a finger inserted and run over all her teeth. He turned her about and made her bend over and grasp her ankles. She gasped as a finger dipped into her tiny passage.

At last, she was freed to wait kneeling as Sara stepped forward. His mood seemed to suddenly change, as though he was tired of groping females. He pulled her by the hair into a backbend and roughly molested her body from mouth to lower lips. She cried out as he pushed her away.

There remained only a short discussion of the terms and price of the sale. They may as well have been haggling over a bolt of silk or a head of lettuce. When it was finished, the Kizlar Aga rose and his servant came to where the slaves were kneeling and touched Ysabel on the shoulder. She was the chosen one!

The servant unfolded a white abayah he had been carrying and slipped it over her form, closing the veil over her face, leaving a small eye slit. No complete man, save the Sultan, could look upon her again. He led her out of the courtyard to a waiting sedan chair. A squad of Janissaries closed about, lifted the chair, and carried it away. A few minutes later, a tear formed in Ysabel's eye and tumbled down her cheek, as she remembered she had not even been able to say farewell to the companions she would never see again.

Topkapi Palace

As the little procession made its way onto a broad avenue, Ysabel could see the many-domed palace on a high promontory above the harbor. Everyone walking or riding on the street stopped and stared. Many cheered and whistled, fully knowing the blushing maiden's destination.

A tall, elegantly arched gateway loomed above the group, but they veered off to enter a smaller gate at the side, guarded by four swordsmen. They passed through endless passageways and courtyards, ending in a hallway with many doors. As the Janissaries set her down, Ysabel could not comprehend the enormity of the Palace. It seemed to be more of a fortress from the outside, but inside it displayed the utmost in grandeur and artistry.

The Chief Eunuch opened a door and waved her into a small room with a bed. A baby-faced young man bowed deeply. Kizlar Aga pushed her to her knees, spoke a few words to the boy and left. Ysabel noticed a woman wearing blue silk pantaloons and a wide band around her breasts.

"Bienvenido a Topkapi! Soy Camila. Usted es Ysabel, sí?"

She spoke Spanish! Ysabel looked up in wonder. "Ets d'Espanya?"

"Sí, Soy de la Ciudad de Alicante. Eres mas adorable!"

While the young eunuch stood silently by, Ysabel broke down in heaving sobs. Camila knelt down and took her in an embrace. For long minutes, the day's intense stresses and strains flowed onto Camila's shoulder. At length, sobs turned into small sighs and mewls.

"My adorable Ysabel, you are safe here. There is food on the table. You must sleep now. I have much to tell you tomorrow. I am your compañero, your conexión. I will help you train for your life here, and for your wonderful first night with the Gran Sultán. Here are some sleeping clothes.

"This is Hakim. He will stand outside your door all night to keep you safe. Do you understand that he is not interested in you as a woman?"

"Um, yes, I think so. He has no..."

"Si, Querida, he has no acessorio, and probably no memory of it. Like me, he will be devoted to your training. Now, please have a bite to eat and go to sleep. I am so happy that you are here!"

For the first time in many days, Ysabel managed a wide smile on her tear-stained face. "Gràcies, Camila. Moltes gràcies!"

~ ~ ~ ~

A delicious smell brought Ysabel to her senses in the morning. She sat up to find a smiling Camila at her bedside. "Buenos días, Preciosa!" She had a tray of little puffy squares and a pot of tea. "These are 'Samse'. Some are filled with meat, and some with spinach. Please try them with me."

She hesitated. "Oh! You need to visit el baño. Go through that door. There is a basket of leaves on the floor." Inside, she found a flat porcelain fixture. Much relieved, Ysabel returned happy and hungry. They finished the tray, chattering like old friends.

"You are from Alicante? How long have you been here?"

"I came here five years ago on a ship, just like you. Let us not speak of those times, yes?"

"Yes, I still can't believe it happened. Were you a..."

"Yes, I was a virgen inocente. And like you, I was a kitten in a house of wolves. It took a year for me to accept my new life. But then, they only commanded me in their lengua. If I didn't understand, my trainer would sting me with a switch. I cried every day."

"Camila! They will whip me every day?"

"No, Querida. That is why I am here. I will explain what they want and help you perform. What took me a year, you will do in a few weeks. Embrace your new life completely. This will be hard. It will be embarrassing. You are dreading the first night."

Camila took her hand. "I promise you that a year from today we will laugh at all this as though it was nothing. Let me tell you something. Here, we are under the strict control of men, but we spend most of our time with each other. When I am called to please a man, I put on a kind of mask; I take on a role. I am the seductora. I must leave him gasping and groaning in pleasure, barely able to walk."

She giggled. "Of course, after a night with El Magnífico, I, too, have trouble walking." The thought made Ysabel blush. "Do not fear, my Preciosa. Hakim will show you how to move and pose, but I will teach you the ways of powerful men. I will teach you how to play them like a harp. Will you put yourself in my hands?"

"Yes! Yes!" Her arms flew around Camila's neck. "I am so scared. Please help me."

"Of course, I will! Let us go to find you some proper white clothing and then on to the baths." Hakim followed at a distance, carrying a small whip and a blade in his belt. In the bathing room, he stood at the door. Camila removed her own clothing and turned to Ysabel. "This is normal here. I know you have a beautiful body. Show me."

Camila took her hand as the pantaloons fell to the floor and led her to waist-deep warm water. Ysabel noticed a pipe in the wall, pouring water into the pool. "Where does the water come from?"

"Slaves bring hot water day and night, so the pool never cools. But you are not a slave. You are La Concubina. You will not have such work to do. Our work is in 'The Garden of Earthly Delights.' You have seen the painting?"

"No, but I have heard it depicts El Llac de L'inferno."

"Yes, it shows people falling into the Lake of Hell, but the reason they are condemned is lust and debauchery. I saw this painting many years ago in Brussels. I remember the scene in the center. Men on camels and horses are herding naked women into a pond. I didn't understand then, but now I know what was about to happen. Men in this part of the world are driven by power and lust, and we are in the pond.

"But when you have the Master's member in your hand, or perhaps in your mouth, you have a certain power over him. He loses all control. And as he spends his seed, he is as helpless as a bebè. Remember this."

Camila began soaping Ysabel's body. "We bathe nearly every day here. It is very relaxing. Usually, there will be four or five women here, and we bathe each other. Once in a while, the Sultan joins us and we clean every part of him with love and care.

"I am going to show you something he likes." Camila lathered Ysabel's breasts and started playing with her nipples. "Our Master loves to bring these to attention. How does that feel?"

"Um, it feels good, but..."

"No buts! You must respond with passion. Move into my hand. Have you ever touched yourself?"

"Uh, you mean, uh, no — the guards forbid it!" Ysabel's innocent blush returned.

"Oh, my pequeño celibato. If only Hakim wasn't here! Before you sleep tonight, I will show you this pleasure. You must learn the delight of your own body before you can satisfy our Master." Camila plunged her hand below the water.

"Oh! Wait! What are you doing?"

"This is your pleasure center. It is a bit of a curse that a man can satisfy himself without even touching it." She continued while Ysabel squirmed. "We are lucky here because the Sultan often likes to lay on the bed while we straddle him. It makes it easier to rub his member right across here..."

"Oh! Please..."

Camila grasped Ysabel by the shoulders. "Listen to me. You must follow my instructions. You can have a good life here. There are three libraries and art and beautiful gardens. We are at the top of a pyramid of women and slaves. But to stay, we must pay a price, la pérdida.

"When you are with him, he requires your complete presence. You will learn to smile, to flirt, to beg, to tremble in helpless passion. You will learn to worship the only man you may ever know. On other days, I will teach you what he likes and how to please him. Today, I will show you the parts of the Palace permitted to us."