The Captive Flesh by Cleo Cordell Page A

her hips. She had a large-framed voluptuous body, all of it clearly visible through the thin gauze. Propping one hand on her hip, she exchanged a few friendly words with Leyla. When she laughed her breasts jiggled.
    Marietta averted her eyes, trying not to stare. She had never seen so many naked women. When bathing, at the convent, she had been made to wear a voluminous calico robe. All bodily contact between the young women was frowned upon, so she was doubly shocked when the woman gave Leyla a lingering kiss on the mouth before tottering away on her stilted shoes.
    Leyla smiled. ‘I have kept you waiting. Forgive me. Come then, we must disrobe. First we wash and make our bodies beautiful. Then after, we can talk and drink sherbet.’
    Two female slaves stood ready to wait on them. They were both young and comely, and naked except for their jewellery. Chains and strings of metal discs adorned the slaves’ necks and chests. And peeking, through all this finery, were their upright young breasts, each gilded nipple jutting out provocatively. Despite Marietta’s censorious thoughts, she found all the nakedness arousing.
    The slaves disrobed Leyla. Her perfect body drew Marietta’s eyes, as earlier Gabriel’s had done. Leyla’s limbs were long and rounded – the skin pale, glowing softly like a pearl. She had large breasts, full and slightly up-tilted, with prominent wine-red nipples. Her waist was narrow, tapering to lushly flaring hips. The smooth indentation that swooped down to her groin, on either side of her flat belly, was particularly lovely. Marietta swept her eyes over Leyla’s body inappreciation, realising that, to her utter amazement, there was no body hair.
    She found herself staring openly at the smoothly naked mound, where the slit of Leyla’s sex was plainly visible. It looked strange to her. The little pouting mound was somehow childlike, yet distinctly womanly at the same time. The pink inner lips showed slightly through the closed flesh-lips and, as Leyla moved, Marietta saw the tip of what looked like a darker pink bud protruding. It was most enticing.
    Leyla caught her looking. She did not seem to mind. Turning around in a circle, she said, without a trace of modesty, ‘I am beautiful, yes? You like me, Marietta? That is good. For I find you beautiful too. We shall find pleasure in each other.’
    Her words were strange. They promised something unknown; Marietta felt excited and fearful in equal measure.
    Leyla watched closely as Marietta was undressed. Marietta squirmed under the directness of those long black eyes, but she did not protest. It seemed foolish to protest when everyone else was naked, or partly so, but as the final garments were taken from her, she could not help hunching over a little and holding her cupped hands over the lightly shadowed mound at the joining of her thighs.
    Leyla laughed huskily. ‘But no,’ she said. ‘Do not hide yourself. Let me look.’
    She took hold of Marietta’s wrists and gently but firmly pulled her arms out to the sides and held them there. Marietta’s cheeks felt hot and she longed to cover herself. The two slave girls watched, smiling slightly. Her embarrassment mounted as Leyla studied her intently.
    â€˜Ah. You have no need of the magic of cosmetics. Your body is beautiful. Such pretty breasts, so high and round, and the nipples, pink and tender, waiting for the touch of hands or mouth. Your waist is small, very small. That device of bones and laces you wear is to make a small waist, yes? Your hips are shapely; they flare out beautifully.’
    She exerted pressure on Marietta’s arm so that she made a half-turn. ‘Your bottom is high and round too; nicely plump. And your thighs are long and firm. Why are you ashamed to be naked? You have a body which must give you much pleasure when you touch it and bring yourself to a melting peak.’
    Marietta’s cheeks burned. She knew