Voyage of the Tunisian Rose

1798, Tunis

The quarter boat pressed against the quay with a harder than usual thud. The English sailors jumped up and lifted out the two sea chests even before Lieutenants Edward Hamilton and James Wray stood up. The baggage was quickly deposited on the quay and within less than a minute the coxswain was yelling for them to shove off. The boat was soon pulling back into the harbor, the six oars working together with expert precision, as it returned to the English frigate Constance, leaving Hamilton and Wray standing next to their sea chests.

"I always wanted to come to Tunis," Hamilton said sarcastically.

"Yes, you often spoke of it," Wray answered sarcastically. Then he stopped and looked around. "What in God's name is that smell?"

"Galleys." Hamilton pointed several hundred yards away at a dozen of Corsair raiding galleys. "I don't think they've let the poor wretches off the benches for months."

The harbor was crowded with ships large and small. Most were small feluccas or costal luggers with one or two sails and a fore-and-aft rig, but there were also Spanish xebecs with racked masts, polaccas, and a captured French chasse-marée. The oared ships, both small galliots and larger raiding galleys were pulled up on the beach, while the Ottoman ships built along European lines were anchored off shore. Those naval vessels, sloops, frigates and several small sail of the line, would not have looked out of place with the English fleet at anchor off Spithead.

Hamilton and Wray walked a few yards from the quay, looking around at the bustling street of shops, beggars and street sellers, but staying close to their baggage. Horses in elegant finery were being walked slowly in one direction, as heavy carts were pulled by people in the other. It was a loud, bright, chaotic place and no one seemed to be paying any attention to the two English naval officers in their blue uniforms, white breeches with silk stockings and high, cocked hats.

"I confess, James, I have not the slightest notion as to why a pair of junior lieutenants were sent for this diplomatic mission," Hamilton said, looking at the warships.

"I just hope the factor arrives soon, its bloody hot standing out here," Wray said. He paused as he glanced towards the English frigate that had brought them. "I see Captain Sanders doesn't waste time, the Constance is hauling her anchor cables."

Hamilton didn't answer.

"Edward, did you hear me -- oh, my."

Both men watched as a path mysteriously appeared in the crowd as people stepped out of the way to allow a squad of elaborately dressed soldiers to march to the quay. The soldiers wore bright baggy Ottoman style clothes and tall hats which included a narrow band of silk across their face, and each was armed with a large saber, daggers of various sizes and a heavy musket. The soldiers themselves suddenly stepped to one side and stood at attention, making way for women.

There were eight woman, all beautiful and all nearly naked, each positioned to hold the rails of a sedan chair. Each was dressed in a light silk wrapping that covered her hips and nothing else, as well as a wooden mask, curiously unadorned compared to the complexity of the styling on the chair. The eight women came to a halt a few yards from the naval officers and slowly lowered the chair to the ground.

"The heat be damned, Edward, I think I'm going to like it here," Wray muttered. Hamilton stifled a laugh.

The sedan chair opened and a short, plump man in European dress stepped out. He reached back inside and plucked out a tricorne hat which he pressed firmly to his head.

"Ah, gentleman! Fine, yes, very fine to meet you!" the plump man said, in deeply accented English.

"Thank you, sir. I am Lieutenant Edward Hamilton and this is Lieutenant James Wray of His Britannic Majesty's service." Hamilton took off his hat and did a partial bow. Wray did the same.

"Ah, of course, yes, yes! I am Nadim bin Bekir and I am here to welcome you to Tunis."

"I see," Hamilton replied, slowly. "Are you acquainted with the English factor?"

"Oh dear sir, I am the English factor!" The plump man laughed. He leaned in and stage whispered, "My real name is Pieter Van Schoonhoven. It makes it easier to deal with the Pasha-Bey of Tunis, if I adopt the local customs. Yes? You see my situation, hm?"

"I understand, sir," Hamilton said, glancing at the naked women standing quietly next to the rails of the sedan chair.

"Oh that," Van Schoonhoven looked at the women and leered. "The very generous and wise Massih Bey has granted me access to some of his unique and well trained staff."

"Slaves."

"Of course! Can you blame him. And yes, he has quite a fondness for women of beauty and charm. Oh yes, as I am sure you can see, gentleman, he has very excellent taste."

"You're one of the King's Germans?" Wray said, his attention still on the topless slaves.

"I am Dutch, sir! Circumstances have been kind! I am the English representative to the Pasha-Bey of Tunis," Van Schoonhoven then laughed. "You enjoy the sights in Tunis, Lieutenant, yes? Perhaps you would wish to take my position so that I might make a welcome return to Amsterdam."

"I fear I must decline that honor, sir," Wray said.

Van Schoonhoven laughed, then said more seriously, "if you also fear for my loyalty to your King, gentleman, then remember the Jacobins have taken over my country, yes? I would be greatly obliged if they were driven back to Paris and my country made free."

"I did not mean --"

Hamilton held up his hand, "When do we meet Masin Bey?"

"Well," Van Schoonhoven said with a sigh. "The most illustrious Masin Bey? Oh, my dear sir, we will most likely never see him."

"I am confused, sir," Hamilton said. "Our mission is to assist the Bey of Tunis in the development of a more modern naval force to prosecute the war against France from these waters."

Van Schoonhoven laughed. He reached over and put his arm around Hamilton and leaned in. "Your mission, Lieutenant is to keep Masin Bey occupied with his various projects, yes, so that his attentions do not turn to Jacobins. You understand then? Yes? Masin Bey is easily distracted, so easily distracted! Unlike his brother, I should say, the Pasha-Bey who is the true ruler of this land."

The English officers looked confused.

"Have you forgotten, sirs, that Bonaparte is in Egypt? Consider the havoc he caused in Italy! Oh yes, yes, yes, I am quite aware of how your valiant Nelson cut down his fleet. Such bravery! And yet, still, that Jacobin army remains close enough to this charming hellhole be a concern. You see my meaning, gentleman? The Pasha-Bey knows that England is where he should seek support, yes? But he is also old. Should the will of heaven taken him from this life and Masin Bey rise in his place, well, I think you see the problem!"

"If Masin Bey takes the throne he might swing this place to France?" Wray asked.

"Indeed, sir! We must make that unlikely."

"I have my orders from the Admiralty, sir," Hamilton said. "But...considering... as you are the English representative I will take your views into account."

"Excellent! Now, good sirs, let me have your baggage sent to the palace." Van Schoonhoven turned to the leading soldier. He spoke a short word in Turkish. The soldiers nodded and as the officers looked closer they could glimpse their faces through the thin silk draped in front.

The soldiers were women.

"I am Nasira bint Evranaki," the one leading the squad said, in English with far less accent than the Dutchman.

"I see. I wasn't aware... that..." Hamilton stammered. He looked at Wray who just shrugged.

"Another special detachment courtesy of Masin Bey," Van Schoonhoven explained. "These are the Kocek Kapikulu of the Janissary corps, yes, and they are quite serious as warriors. Make no mistake of that gentleman! Yes, yes, quite serious!"

Nasira ordered four of the topless slaves by the sedan chair to come forward and take the two sea chests. The others lifted the chair, now much lighter without the Dutchman inside, and followed the female soldiers as they moved back into the city.

Van Schoonhoven lead the two officers in a slightly different direction, down narrow streets, some crowded and some not, and into a low open courtyard bounded by colonnades. There were several groups of men inside, all looking over a row of twenty women connected by chains. The women had torn clothes at best and huddled together in a ragged line.

"The fruits of Masin Bey's fleet of galleys," Van Schoonhoven said as he gazed upon the women, all young and attractive. "As you can see he has a particular taste, yes? And these specimens are gentleman, oh my, yes, these pretty ones are those he rejected. They are now for public auction."

"This is monstrous!" Wray said.

Van Schoonhoven snorted. "And your countrymen grab innocent men from the streets, yes? Drag them away from their families off to serve on your ships, hm?"

"That, sir, is in the service of His Britannic Majesty. We are at war."

"And the triangle trade, sir? That is also in the service of the king?"

Wray fumed and turned away. Van Schoonhoven laughed.

"Why did you bring us here?" Hamilton asked.

"I want you to know what sort of man you are dealing with. Masin Bey surrounds himself with female slaves, yes? He has some from the far eastern orient and the wilds of Portuguese Brazil. He uses these slaves for all functions, well beyond their obvious uses, I must say." Van Schoonhoven walked over to one of the women, a petite dark haired beauty. He reached out and cupped her breasts. She froze but did not resist. "To maintain his interests in line with ours I suggest you keep all this in mind. These particular slaves are French. Note that it would be useful if Massih Bey continues to harass the enemies of His Britannic Majesty."

One of the men pointed to a lithe, dark haired woman and a guard released her from the chains. She was pushed over to a group of men who began to press their hands on her breasts and ass. They pried open her mouth and inspected her cunt. The man who pointed suddenly turned and a guard took hold of the terrified slave by the hair and dragged her along after him. She screamed, but no one took notice.

"Sampling the wares, I dare say, yes?" Van Schoonhoven said. "You gentleman are, of course, well within your rights to purchase a slave or two for your enjoyment."

There was a pause and then Hamilton said, "We should proceed to our destination, sir."

The Dutchman lead them out of the slave market and down a series of crowded streets, many covered by awnings and seemingly always walking against a tide of humans and animals.

"I do not like this fellow," Wray said, leaning into Hamilton.

"I can't say as I do either, James, but I fear we are saddled with him."

Twisting through crowded streets they made their towards the center of the city and suddenly came upon a tall, fortified wall covered with intricate geometric mosaics and the curves of Ottoman script. Nasira bint Evranaki, the female Janissary in command of the small group was waiting by the open gate. Her face, an attractive one, was easily visible through the wisp of thin cloth.

"This is where I must part company, gentleman," Van Schoonhoven said suddenly. He made an overly elaborate bow to Nasira and then was off into the crowd.

"You will follow me," Nasira said to the naval officers.

The fortifications opened into a wide parade ground in front of a central palace several stories highs. There were several smaller building and Nasira lead them towards one. They waited for a troop of cavalry to pass and then stepped inside. The building was a rough square, with a central open courtyard ringed by a colonnade of wide arched stone. It was surprisingly quiet inside the building, and one could almost imagine being in the square of a small village.

Nasira lead them down past a row of doors. She indicated that one room was for Lieutenant Wray. "Food will be sent to you presently."

"Thank you," Wray replied. He looked inside and saw his sea chest and then added, "Ma'am."

"Refresh yourself, Mr. Wray, I will speak will you later," Hamilton said.

Hamilton followed Nasira as she walked further. Inside his room he could see his sea chest in the center of a modest apartment, with a small bed and a low table. The walls were plain, at least by the standards of Tunis, but still were made of elegant tiles.

"Thank you. This is most kind, and please extend our compliments to your master," Hamilton said.

Nasira nodded. Under the top of her curved hat he could see a wisp of red hair.

"And my compliments to you, as well. I must say, you speak English very well," Hamilton said.

"England has been a past enemy of the Sublime Ottoman Domains and may be so again." Nasira lifted the small, almost transparent silk from her face. "The Great Sultan is wise to have his slaves learn the ways of the infidels."

"Indeed. Very wise." Hamilton hesitated and then smiled, slightly.

Nasira placed the silk across her face, nodded slightly, and left.

Hamilton stepped inside, dropping his hat onto the small table. He glanced at his sea chest. The small wax seals were unbroken, which seemed somewhat surprising. He opened the trunk and everything seemed to be in place. Standing up, he heard a small knock on the door.

"Enter!" he shouted, before correcting himself. "Please come in."

The door opened and a lithe, topless woman came in with a golden tray heaped with fruit around a small golden carafe of coffee. She wore only a narrow wrap of blue silk that already seemed to be falling off her hips. Thin gold jewelry adorned her wrists and neck.

"I have been ordered to serve you, master," she said in Spanish, setting the tray on the low table and then kneeling.

Hamilton sat next to her and tried to remember his rudimentary Spanish. "Thank you, madam, very much. I am --"

The slave had opened an orange and pulled out a single slice. She held it up for Hamilton, who leaned forward and took it into his mouth.

"I am most grateful. However, I am not your master."

"I have been ordered to serve you and to obey any commands you wish to make." She poured a small cup of coffee and handed it to him. "Master."

"Thank you. I am sure we can... can... come to some... uh... what is your name?"

"I am Lamesa, master. It means that I am soft to the touch."

"I see. I am, well... I am sure you are." Hamilton took a small sip of coffee and then nervously set it down. He looked down her olive skinned body, from her dark black hair and soft, brown eyes, down her small but perfectly shaped breasts, with dark areoles, smooth stomach and a trace of a dark patch between her legs under the thin silk. His gaze stopped for a moment on her thighs.

Lamesa noticed. She smiled and pulled the silk off her body, revealing a series of thin marks across her thigh. She stood up and turned around. More marks were across her ass.

Hamilton, sitting, his face inches from the soft flesh of her ass stammered and then blurted out, "You've been whipped!"

Lamesa turned around and knelt closer to him. She put her hand on his thigh. "I was used in the Pearl Room, master."

"Ah, I see... the Pearl Room?" Hamilton felt very self-conscious about his growing erection. Lamesa noticed and slid her hand over the bulge in his breeches.

"That is a place for those who enjoy whipping and binding slaves. Would you like to take me to the Pearl Room, master?"

Hamilton looked away for a moment. Then he turned towards her and grabbed her wrist pulling her arm up and away from his cock.

"Have I displeased you, master?"

"No... no, not at all, you have not displeased me Lamesa."

She smiled and leaned in close.

Hamilton said, "Oh, hell, let me see how soft you are." His right hand went to her hair. He grabbed her and pulled her close against his body. Hamilton held her tightly as he leaned in, his lip sliding down her neck to her breasts, where he opened his mouth and sucked hard on her nipples. He still held her tight, one hand around her back holding her hair while the other kept a tight grip on her wrist.

"Master... would you like coffee..." she said.

He let go of her hair and wrist, his lips sliding back to her neck as he held her tightly. "I would rather have you."

"It will get cold, master."

He leaned back, looking over her very beautiful face for a moment. He took a few deep breaths and then his eyes narrowed.

"Allow me to serve you," Lamesa said, reaching for the cup.

Hamilton grabbed her arm and stood up, pulling her to her feet roughly

"Oh... ahh.... master!" she pleaded in surprise.

"Perhaps you should have the coffee, Miss Lamesa."

"It is for you --"

Hamilton pushed her backwards and slapped her, hard. "You are very anxious to have me drink the coffee now. Why is that?"

"I was told to serve you, master... it is...it is something that is done... that is all," she said, holding her sore cheek.

Hamilton grabbed her hard by the hair. "You will kneel and drink it, slave."

"Please... please, master... no... I will be beaten, it is forbidden for slaves."

"I don't believe that. There is something in the coffee isn't there?"

Lamesa nodded.

Hamilton held her tightly by the hair and dragged her towards his sea chest. He kicked it open with his foot and reached in, pulling out a length of rope. He quickly wrapped it around her wrists, looping the coarse hemp multiple times up her arm before wrapping it around her waist and tying it off around her ankles. A linen napkin was used as a gag.

Hamilton left her bound and gagged in the corner and went to the door. There were a few people slowly walking across the interior courtyard, courtiers and a pair of female Janissaries, but none seemed to notice or care as Hamilton stepped out of his room and quickly walked to Wray's.

Hamilton didn't bother to knock, he opened the door and saw his friend, alone and sleeping on the low bed, one arm dangling on the floor. Wray's clothes were in disarray and it was not hard to guess what he had been doing before drinking the coffee. Hamilton returned to his room.

Lamesa looked up in fear and shook her head. Hamilton closed the door quietly. He reached down and pulled her up by the hair and dragged her to the middle of the room, forcing her down to her hands and knees. He quickly unbuckled his belt at swung hard at the beautiful slave's tender ass.

"Mmmmmm!" Lamesa pleaded through the gag as he used the belt over and over.

"Perhaps I should take you to that Pearl Room, slave." Hamilton tossed the belt down and pulled her up to her knees. "In my country they sometimes brand those who try to lie and cheat... do they brand slaves in this Pearl Room?"

Lamesa nodded slowly, her eyes wide with fear. Hamilton reached down and pulled off the gag.

"Please, master! If I am damaged I will be sold!"

Hamilton unbuttoned his breeches and pulled them down. His cock, hard and erect, was pressed to her face. Lamesa responded at once, opening her mouth and taking the shaft deep into her throat. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading, as he grabbed her head and slammed her back and forth, fucking her face hard. Lamesa began to suck harder, her tongue sliding over and around his cock as her head as was pushed and pulled back and forth. She soon tasted precum. Hamilton slammed his cock in deep with each thrust as the pleasure grew, a pleasure that was more than simply a forced blow job, it was the pleasure that came from using a sex slave.

Lamesa felt the cum spurt into her mouth as Hamilton pressed her close. She concentrated on breathing through her nose, on swallowing and not gagging, as the cock was pressed deep in her throat. At last Hamilton pushed her back and down on the floor.