The Slave Sultana 0. BATH

Her throbbing heart waited, a little hummingbird palpitating, waiting for her lover's stride.
Each second her blood bloomed, blossoming louder with desperate hope.

She splayed the golden spears of detached chrysanthemums over her naked legs and gathered the Chinese Peonies, freshly imported, and freshly severed behind her pink glowing flanks, made her willowy limbs a delicious sprawl.

From her cold enthralled breasts liberally escaped the the scent of pressed roses, numb after a full dusk of submerged in iced rosewater, now white and pink...and most importantly firm in all the right places, itching in the wicked balmy air after having been teased to swell by her maids' perfumed hands.

In the pale light of languid lamps, the aroused girl, the blonde Greek, the slave dreamed of powerful caresses. It had been an impatient day and she was feeling rather wicked...