The Tattooed Princess

The Annihilating Nature of Love

            All that afternoon and evening Svetlana was anxious about the ensuing night and   how Murka's would choose to enjy it. Would it be just sleeping, talking into the night with other men, or with her in their blissful time of mutual pleasure? She knew he would be exhausted from his ordeal of training the younger warriors, and she tried to put into perspective that fact, not to let his possible reluctance to be with her be any indication of his true feelings. But now, as she waited for him, that strange feeling had returned to her, wishing that Murka would show her even the slightest greater affection than he had given to Dressa.

            After several other men had stopped  by his home that early evening to drink and converse with Murka—asking about his time away, and the general strength and readiness of the of the ninety-six horsemen he had trained, the later evening t seemed  would settled down to a quiet night. This was not, however, until the noisy ritual of putting Murka's children to bed ensued, as it always had with much drama. More than usual this night their crying to see their strong but gentle father just once more before sleeping, was a part of the longer wait for Svetlana.

            Finally, after Dressa had led the young toddlers Zetur and Tourna to their sleeping quarters, Svetlana went to her room and waited for her anticipated call. She used the opportunity to bathe and beautify herself after the long day. Carefully she put on one of the short chitins Murka had often complimented her the most in, and she spent considerable time brushing out her long golden hair—so much the envy of the darker featured Pazyryk people. As Svetlana waited out these late night hours, the cooler fall winds could be heard outside the tent complex, threatening a late fall rainstorm. She could see the tall poles and sections of sewn camel leather sheets, which housed the  whole complex, sway gently within each room. Her own chamber was without a fireplace and she anticipated not only the warmer comfort of Murka's bedroom, his magic vase lamps, the red tapestry rugs—but most importantly, his affirming caresses and kisses which so warmed both her body and affections on previous nights.

            In those long hours, the young slave had time to think about the seven long nights she had not been with Murka. It made her realize how his sensual ways and their routine of pleasing each other had become such a powerful need in her life. Laying in the darkness of her room she recalled the climactic night when Murka had finally entered her body with his manhood—all in the ultimate act of their union. She remembered feeling little of the fear or the pain she had expected—just as he had promised her. There was almost nothing of what she had been told all her life by the women where she spent her childhood or even the attending Slavic women who were bound to the Pazyryk nomads just as she and her young friends were. Murka had prepared her well for his gradual and complete act of penetration and made sure she was ready for it, explaining it would be only the doorway to even more pleasures for both of them. It was for this reason that Svetlana had come to trust and to believe in Murka, making it her own joy to please him as she could, and toward the advancement of her own desires.

        Thinking back in a reverie of that important night, she recalled as he had truthfully forewarned her, that even more amazing nights would follow. Svetlana now wanted more than ever those nights to continue, and it was on this night especially, that her return to him meant more than ever before.

        Suddenly she heard Dressa's angry voice just outside her room.

        "Make yourself ready, slave! My mate chooses to use you again this evening. Do not be late . . ., or take too long, as he is tired and must have his rest."

        Though these words were harsh and painful, Svetlana had become accustomed to them from Dressa. Just the fact that she would soon be with Murka made her forget the conditions withwhich she was bound, and feel only overwhelmingly joy.