Warning – semi-graphic sexuality

Chapter Fifteen – Whispers in the Night

Persia 1875

Christine

Indira comes racing into my room at my cries, her dark hair swept about from running, her breath coming in pants. "Christine!" she shouts, falling to the ground beside me, crushing my tiny, half-naked form against hers. She whispers soft sounds into my hair, quieting me, calming me. But I can't be calm.

I hear her gasp as she eyes the money on the floor of my room, along with the rose. Pulling me closer to her, she murmurs, "Oh, Christine." Then she yells out, "Chandra! Chandra!"

A few moments go by before the Khanum appears at my doorway, Lalitha and Lakhi behind her. "Indira, you're going to wake up the whole of Sardes! What the hell is…" She finally catches sight of Indira cradling me on the floor and I can tell she's tensing up. "What's happened?"

"Christine," Indira coos, her voice soft yet sultry as always, "who was he?" I sniffle, unable to say anything. I can't put him at the mercy of the Shah if Chandra knows who he is. He doesn't exist. He is just another man.

"I need to know, Christine," Chandra adds. "We will find him and he will be severely punished for what he's done to you," she continues, eyeing the bruises on my wrists and face. "Please, Christine. Tell me who it was."

"I…can't," I whimper helplessly, taking a fetal position against Indira's friendly but anxious embrace.

"Why not?" Chandra interjects, her voice suddenly harsh. "If he is merely trying to use our girls for subjects of rape then we will have to see an end…"

"I just can't tell you!" I yell at her, my voice rising to a louder caliber than I thought myself capable of, and it cracks over the words. "I can't!" I say, softly again.

"Do you know him? Is that why?" Indira asks gently, running her hand down my hair and shushing me like a child. I don't know him. He doesn't exist. I don't know him.

"I don't know him," I manage to stutter. "I'm sorry." I can sense Indira and Chandra looking at one another, contemplating a course of action wordlessly. I do not know that man. "Indira?" I yelp.

"What is it, child?" she asks me, sounding surprised as I'm sure she is.

"He said his name was…Garnier. That's all I heard." Indira and Chandra converse in some native tongue I do not yet understand, though I have been here for a long enough time. I hear Chandra depart from the room and Indira continues to calm me.

"We will find him, Christine. We will find him and he will be punished."

Chandra

I walk hastily down the corridors of the harem and into the palace, winding my way through the halls I know well and have known for years, since I was as young as the youngest girls who live with us, barely into womanhood. Reaching my destination, I open the door without hesitation; there are benefits to my position.

My husband lies nearly asleep on his luscious bed, either side of his mattress flanked by towering bookcases of everything from stories of religion to the Kama Sutra. It has always intrigued me that men long to know more about things like those depicted in that particular work, while women take to it…naturally, as I have done.

The jingling of the little bells on my ankles have awoken my husband, and he sits himself up, bleary eyed. "My wife, what brings you here at this hour?" He is already questioning me; I must put an end to this. Pity for him that he has never been schooled in the art of seduction as I have.

Not bothering to answer the question, I crawl up onto the massive bed and set myself on hands and knees, looking more like a preying lioness to the onlooker. I sway my barely-covered hips as I move seductively across the silken bedspread, watching my husband's face as I do so; I see how he shivers and how his breath hitches in his throat and it makes me smile.

"Chandra," he says breathlessly, though I have not touched him yet, whispering my name like a sensual prayer onto the night. It spurs me on, and I crawl up over his legs, concealed by layers of silken sheets, and place my hands on either side of his body at the edge of the bedspread.

Leaning forward, I press my lips hotly against his own, nearly biting his lips in my haste to have him seduced. He moans into my mouth, and I return the favor as I pry his lips apart with my tongue and engage him in battle between both of our mouths, tongues lashing out at one another. Then I pull away, enticing him just enough.

Gently I pull the silky covers away from his heated form, taking the time to run my fingertips across his legs as I do so, constituting quite a moan from my husband, urging me to continue. I crawl back up to his level, still on all-fours above him, and lower myself onto him, resting my legs on either side of his waist, positioning my pelvis right on his so his desire presses up against my own.

This time, he not only moans but grunts, sounding almost animalistic, and tries to flip me over. But I'm a strong little thing, and I pin him down by his shoulders, laying my body from the torso up right against his and grinding my pelvis against his, eliciting a moan myself. Maybe I'm losing my ability to seduce without being seduced myself.

In slow, almost painful movements, I move my fingertips across his bare chest and to the lacings on his pants, untying them one by one until I have his manhood in my hands. My husband yowls with pleasure and I press a hand fiercely over his mouth and make a shushing sound. He moves his hands to my garments, trying to undo them, but I am faster and slide myself down his body until I'm resting at his feet, my hands still wrapped around his length.

Lowering my head to his waistline, I begin to kiss and lick at him, and he emits quieter but darkly sexual groans and whines. I continue my ministrations with my mouth while removing the fabric from my lower body. As my husband comes dangerously close to the ultimate pleasure, I pull away and crawl up to him again, kissing him harshly but sensually.

"One of my girls was raped, my dear," I murmur into his mouth. "I want the man found and killed," I state plainly as we lavish one another's lips. I can feel in the little jerks of his body how much he wants me, and who am I to deprive the Shah?

"What is his name?" he asks breathlessly as I move my body to be positioned above him. When I refuse to make any further advances, he nearly yells, "For the love of humanity, tell me the name!"

As I lower myself onto him, I hiss, "Garnier."

Christine

I lie awake, unable to sleep though the night is perfect. No matter how hard I try, I can no longer convince myself of what I had formerly made myself believe. For years I have pretended, hidden behind the façade of religion, that what I longed to believe was just an illusion. It is not an illusion any longer.

He's there, the Phantom of the Opera…

Standing abruptly, I walk to the bureau and light a candle, holding it out at the mirror to look upon myself. I cleaned the makeup from my face but an ugly bruise is forming on my cheek from where…he struck me. Struck me! He would never…but he did once before, when I was dancing…

No! I mustn't think about that time any longer. I may be breaking my covenant with the Holy Father but I will not go as far as to think on that time. But what a time it was. Then I met Raoul and…

I watch in the mirror as tears form in the corners of my eyes and plummet down my cheeks in silent rivers of sorrow. It's amazing how so much can go wrong in so short a time. Six months ago I was living the lavish life of le Vicomtesse de Chagny. Now I am a prostitute in the Shah's harem.

Christine, you are not a prostitute! I am finding that I cannot even convince myself of anything any more. It's like I'm falling into this never-ending whirlpool, and the more I try to get out, the faster I fall. I thought I could get out of this place by winning the Shah's favor, which I did, but he bestowed me with the task of pleasing men. I thought it was possible that I could get away with pleasuring the man I once trusted with my life without him knowing it was me, and I don't know that he did, but I only got myself hurt. How much farther will I fall until I reach rock bottom?

"Raoul?" I cry hoarsely, knowing he won't hear me. "Raoul, please come back! I need you, Raoul! Come back to me! Give me your love again, Raoul, and I will not be unfaithful! I will be completely faithful in mind and in spirit! Raoul, come back to me! I love you!" One of my tears douses the tiny flame of the candle, but it doesn't matter. Everything is darkness anyway.