The Infidel and the Assassin [NightBird & Question Mark]
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: NightBird on 02-03-2008, 09:45:14</h2>
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				Title: <strong>The Infidel and the Assassin [NightBird &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NightBird</strong> on <strong>02-03-2008, 09:45:14</strong>
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				The stone was cool under Gameela's bare feet, a faint jingle of her ankle bracelets sounding as she moved. Although most of her was covered, the kohl lining her eyes and the hint of bright silks peeking at the hem and cuffs of her black coat suggested that she wasn't the simpler sort of servant, but then many folk came and went in Salah al'Din's fortress in Jerusalem, even when the Sultan was away, so she drew little attention, either, especially with her self-effacing demeanor and the small veil of semi-invisibility she wrapped around herself, not so much as to be what her many-times-great-grandsire could have done, but enough that people didn't notice her when she didn't want to be noticed. None would recall her presence within minutes, let alone by the next day when they would find one of the Sultan's favorite advisors dead, a knife in his heart or his throat. She'd not yet decided which killing strike she would use, but she was certain the blade would find its target before the moon set.<br><br>Finding the door she needed, Gameela knelt and knocked three times before calling out, "Great One! Rashik ibn Shakir sends his compliments. Will you not accept his humble gift?"
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Infidel and the Assassin [NightBird &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Question Mark</strong> on <strong>02-03-2008, 22:40:37</strong>
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				Sir Adam of Wykeham sat amidst a mound of goose-down pillows of varying colors, from deep red to light blue.&nbsp; His eyes were closed, and he would appear asleep to most.&nbsp; Around him, numerous poles on multi-legged mounts held incess burners aloft, filling the small room with a smoky haze.&nbsp; Adam, although of English heritage, wore peculiar garb: a red ghutrah secured by a thick igal adorned his head, matching the orange, red, and yellow robes that covered his torso.&nbsp; A pair of loose, almost baggy, silken orange pants complimented the strange look.&nbsp; Although the robes hid his figure, one could tell by looking at his bearded face that he was a man of great strength.&nbsp; His large, strong hands were clasped together, resting on a pillow on his lap.<br><br>Adam inhaled and exhaled deeply, using the aromatic smoke to place him in a heightened state of mentality.&nbsp; This meditation could last from several minutes to well over a day, depending on his mood and the events occurring around him.&nbsp; After a few more seconds, Adam opened his eyes, and then slowly stood up, stretching as he did.&nbsp; A familiar rumble deep in his stomach reminded him of the Evening Supper, and he could barely detect the faintest hints of the tangy spices used by his hired chefs.<br><br>Lured by the promising aromas, Adam made his way from the chamber, two servants passing by him in order to douse the burners and fluff the pillows.&nbsp; He nodded to them as they passed, and they returned it, pausing midstride to show their respect.&nbsp; He managed his way through the thin hallway of his home, his robes fluttering in the airstream.<br><br>As Adam passed through the main room of his home, the one from which one could reach any part of the well-sized house, one of the door guards called out to him.&nbsp; He paused, then turned and advanced on the dark-skinned servant.&nbsp; "A messenger at the door, bearing a gift from Rashik ibn Shakir.&nbsp; She has been out there for some time."<br><br>Adam nodded, then replied with a strongly accented voice in Arabic.&nbsp; "Aye, let her in.&nbsp; If a gift has arrived from Shakir himself, it would be unwise to leave it in the cold!"&nbsp; He smiled, knowing the numerous gifts that arrived at his threshold were generally of the high class sort.&nbsp; Many sought to please him, political dogs who wished to influence the Caliph.<br><br>The guard nodded.&nbsp; Both of them stepped back and pulled apart the doors, revealing a slim woman standing in the darkness.&nbsp; She was silhoutted by a lamp behind her, which made details impossible to pick out.&nbsp; Adam stepped forward.&nbsp; "Come into my dwelling, humble woman, and share your knowledge with me over supper."&nbsp; The request was more akin to an order; messengers and servants were but tools to one as high as Adam of Wykeham.&nbsp; He didn't exploit it, but he didn't ignore it either.<br><br>The strong aromas coming from deeper within the house were nigh on intoxicating.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Infidel and the Assassin [NightBird &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NightBird</strong> on <strong>07-03-2008, 01:19:03</strong>
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				As Gameela rose, she gave no indication that she had been waiting more than a moment, or that she noticed the scent of lamb cooking within the infidel's quarters, too good for a heathen-born turncoat... better than anything she normally would be given. What could be seen of her delicate features within the deep hood and dark veil were composed, her gaze lowered modestly. With her first step into the room, she exaggerated her motions to the entrance a dancer might make for a performance, setting her ankle bracelets to chiming, her hips to swaying, and rolling her shoulders back to make the most of the swell of her breasts beneath the concealing coat.<br><br>"I thank you for your welcome," she softly said, her voice carrying a lilt that hinted, perhaps at Egypt, or at least further south along the Mediterranean coast. "Honor done to me is honor done to him who sent me. Rashik ibn Shakir greets you, and hopes that a night's pleasures will ease the burdens of your responsibilities while the most worthy Caliph is away. If there is knowledge of any sort one such as I might have that you would value, Great One, then gladly will I share it with you."<br><br>As she spoke, she lifted her hands to her head, unfastening the veil from the hood and letting both drop. The face revealed was lovely, though her skin was deeper than would have been fashionable where Adam has been raised, the color more of burnt honey than cream. Her hair was straight and dark, but glinted copper in the light of the lamps scattered about the room. There was a second veil covering the lower half of her face, but it was of silk so fine as to be translucent, the jade-green wisp of fabric unable to hide the faint smile that curved full lips, dark enough to have been tinted with carmine. Her gaze remained on the floor, her head tilted slightly down and to the side as she waited to hear his pleasure. Hers would come. For now she would be patient and play her role as if there was no other truth in the world but what she portrayed
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Infidel and the Assassin [NightBird &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Question Mark</strong> on <strong>07-03-2008, 05:57:19</strong>
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				Adam squinted.&nbsp; The gift-bearer seemed to flicker for a second, but he shrugged off as a trick of the light.<br><br>She was a pretty, this one.&nbsp; Adam would never prefer the darkened flesh of the Arabs over the pale, moonlit skin of English women, but such are the sacrifices one has to make in His name.&nbsp; He eyed her up and down, obviously noting her profession: a dancer, maybe even one of the magical arts.&nbsp; Combined with her beauty, Adam became convinced that Rashik ibn Shakir was a most generous giver indeed.<br><br>The smell of the roasting lamb penetrated the room, reminding Adam of his supper.&nbsp; The soft, muffled toll of a bell confirmed his suspicions as the cooks signalled their triumphant completion.&nbsp; "Come, fair woman," he started, gesturing towards his dining area.&nbsp; "You may perform your craft for myself and my servants as we sup."&nbsp; With a flourish of his gaily colored robes, Adam turned and moved toward the house's interior, obviously suggesting that she follow.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Infidel and the Assassin [NightBird &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NightBird</strong> on <strong>07-03-2008, 08:55:34</strong>
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				Gameela suffered the infidel warrior's regard with equanimity sullied only by the slightest deepening of the curl of her lips. Her coat, however, she left closed for now. He'd not told her to remove it, and she well knew that desires denied kindled brighter, though she lifted a hand to rest on the top fastening when the bell sounded for the evening meal. At his command to follow, she swayed into a deep bow, her hands pressed together, elbows out, an obeisance that spoke of dances from even farther east than where they stood. "You have but to speak what you wish of me, and it shall be yours," she murmured.<br><br>Following him, her provocative gait maintained without much conscious effort, she pondered the swirl of his robes. It was a satisfied gesture, and spoke of enjoyment in his role and his fine clothing. Was he so shallow that he had chosen to mimic the True Faith to trade a rat-infested cell for this palatial set of rooms? There was little her people would put past the Caliph's ambitions, and the information a Christian knight had to offer would have been more than tempting, but that didn't mean the one chosen was right to acquiesce. Yet why wouldn't he, with what became his? Everyone knew the Crusaders were greedy dogs who would sell their brother for a castle in the Holy Land. Was that was this knight had been promised? It would explain much, if it were true, but she couldn't dwell on such things now. She could allow herself to be nothing but a harem dancer, not for hours yet, until he slept or was enfeebled by the aftermath of passion, and to end there, she must make him want her for himself, beyond prudence or restraint.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Infidel and the Assassin [NightBird &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Question Mark</strong> on <strong>08-03-2008, 05:15:46</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Dinner was served.<br><br>The dishes were fantastical, and were completed by the still steaming young lamb.<br><br>But it was what came afterwards that was worth enjoying.&nbsp; As Adam and his servants (unlike most other, Adam preferred to interact with his servants as often as possible.&nbsp; Allowing them to eat and enjoy his food and pleasures was his way of showing respect for their humble work) settled back after the filling meal, they gazed upon the beautiful, slim, and olive skinned figure of the gist-bearer.<br><br>Adam laughed and clapped his hands twice, prompting the cooks to come and clear off the cleaned trays.&nbsp; "Come, young flower, you have not even told me your name!&nbsp; I would take insult, but your beauty is too great."&nbsp; His smile shrunk slightly.&nbsp; "Name yourself and your profession, then work your craft for us."
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Infidel and the Assassin [NightBird &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NightBird</strong> on <strong>09-03-2008, 08:04:03</strong>
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				It surprised her to be offered food. That was not the gesture of the greedy infidel she'd built in her mind's eye as her image of her target. That bothered her, made her wonder if the information given her had been wrong or incomplete, or if she had ignored things that disagreed with what she took from her original orders. But nothing she might have learned would change the orders. Someone important wanted this man dead, and had paid very well for it to be done.<br><br>Despite the tantalizing scent wafting from the generous quantities on the low table, the first bite was difficult: hard to take within her mouth and harder to swallow. With that, they were bound as host and guest, she and her target. If she were a Sunni and pure of heart, she would do as the thief in the proverb, and refuse to take from a home where salt had been shared, but she was not. The word of the Old Man was her path to paradise, and this was what he had ordered. <br><br>She had left her coat on while they dined, and though she had drawn the veil aside to eat, she continued to use a posture of modesty, depending on the hints of her bright silks that flashed at her neck and wrists to remind him that there was more of her than the proper garment revealed. With luck, it would be the first slow enticement of the evening. She spoke little, but did more to observe, and saw a man willing to listen and learn from his servants, all of whom ate their fill of the same food he did, and from the same dishes, not hastily in the kitchen after he was done. Another fact to ponder, and consider how she could twist to her advantage. Briefly, she wondered if that had been the custom in the northern land where he'd been born.<br><br>Then all were finished, and he clapped for the cooks to remove the dishes. When he turned his attention more directly to her, the soft smile returned, and with his words she bowed low, touching her head to the carpet. "Forgive me that I did not speak it sooner. I am called Gameela. My profession is to lighten the hearts of men, and that is why Rashik ibn Shakir bought me for your pleasure this evening." While she was bent forward, she undid the fastenings on the front of her coat, so when she straightened, the green and gold of her tight-fitting jacket could be seen, and the smooth skin of her belly below it. Continuing the motion, she rose fluidly to her feet, the coat dropping to the floor behind her, revealing a full skirt, more layers of green slashed so that when she moved a hint of her firm legs was visible. <br><br>"I will dance for you, if you wish it, Great One."
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Infidel and the Assassin [NightBird &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Question Mark</strong> on <strong>09-03-2008, 08:51:26</strong>
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				[Sorry for short post, in a rush ATM]<br><br>Adam's smile remained.&nbsp; "I would never think of letting such an offer go to waste."&nbsp; He gestured at Gameela.&nbsp; "Dance for us, beautiful Gameela."
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Infidel and the Assassin [NightBird &amp; Question Mark]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NightBird</strong> on <strong>11-03-2008, 07:27:06</strong>
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				Gameela rose to her feet, leaving the coat behind, and stepped back a short distance from the table before bowing deeply. "As it please Your Eminence," she said, then struck a pose, hips sharply tilted to the side, head bent forward, her arms in an arch above her head, the lamplight setting bright, fiery glints in her hair. With a snap of her fingers she began, a slow, sinuous movement that seemed to ripple down her body, then settle at her hips. Turning slowly, she beat a soft rhythm with her heels on the floor, the pace about the same as a resting heartbeat, the ankle bracelets jingling a counterpoint, her hips never still. Gradually, she bent herself backwards, writhing, her arms and hands moving like snakes, her fingers continuing to snap, emphasizing every fourth heel-beat, which were growing a little quicker, the motion of her hips keeping up with the increasing pace. As she straightened, she started a fluid motion from shoulder to hip, circling, angling first breasts, then hips, then breasts again toward the man she was there to entice. <br><br>Then, as her speed continued to increase, she began to rock her hips sharp and fast to one side, seeming to lead her body into another turn, while her upper body continued the more sinuous motion, the bells at her ankles chiming almost steadily, the rhythm of her heels that had been like a heartbeat pounding closer to the hoofbeats of a galloping horse. Changing direction, she made another similar rotation, the made faster motions with her hips side to side, then in faster circular undulations, then thrusting toward the front. She clapped her hands and spun, her entire upper body swaying, her arms remaining upward, fingertips at the ceiling as she rotated her upper body in time to her motion, the wide strips of cloth in her skirt lifting, revealing her legs to the knee, her hair catching and re-casting the lamplight in brilliant sparkling scintillations that gathered the light and could bring a weak-minded man to helpless fascination.<br><br>When it seemed as if she could go no faster, as if either her heart or her watchers must burst, she cried out, a single shout of exultation, and dropped to her knees, her hair and skirts continuing to whirl enough that they wrapped around her as she fell forward, her chest heaving with the deep breaths of exertion, her hands stretched out along the floor toward Adam, her position one of classic supplication.
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