A Fulfillment of Duty

A/N: Yea, this story is a "what if" (or an "I wish") scenario kind of thing that takes place in Susan Kay's "Phantom." For those that don't know the story, Erik has been offered a virgin slave girl (a great gift!), who has been trained to be a concubine, by the Shah. When Erik asks her to take off his mask for him and come lie with her, she just cries. (If you wanna know what really happens, well I don't wanna ruin it for you, so you should read the book. It's GREAT!)
Without further ado, on with the story:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Fulfillment of a Duty~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**KAY QUOTE**
"How old are you?" [Erik] demanded harshly.
"Fifteen, master." Her voice was barely audible
"Have they told you what is expected of you?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Very well. I have seen what lies behind your veil, my dear- now you shall be accorded a reciprocal honor. Come forward and remove my mask."
The girl did not move; she continued to kneel at his feet, staring up at him in horror.
"To refuse me now is to refuse the shah himself," said Erik steadily. "If you resist I shall take you by force and then return you to execution at his hands. But only lie with me willingly for this one night and I swear you shall go free at dawn. One night buys you the rest of your life and the means to spend it in honorable comfort. And perhaps, after all, that night will not be so terrible for as you fear-"
As he bent forward to offer the girl his hand, she shrank away, pressing her hennaed fingers together in a desparate gesture of supplication.
"You would rather die than lie with me?" he demanded with pained disbelief. "You would truly rather die?"
The girl collapsed at his feet in a weeping hysterical heap and Erik turned from her abruptly, clenching his hands around his arms.
**END QUOTE**

She stopped sobbing for a moment to evaluate the situation before her. This was what she had trained for; the past seven years spent preparing herself for this exact situation. She could not bring herself to do it though. While she never saw his face, she had heard the stories. Oh the stories! No nose, misaligned eyes, gnarled lips, and a face, a face made of rotting flesh. It made her shudder to even think about it. The mask was frightening—terrifying—but still, in a way, mysterious and alluring. With that one barrier to protect her, she thought that maybe she could go through with what was expected of her. But now, now the intimidating man loomed above her and asked her to do the one thing she feared more than touching him. He asked her to remove the mask, to look at her face! And despite the shame it brought to her, she could not bring herself to do it. Instead she merely shrunk to the floor, wishing the stone floor would open up and swallow her whole.

"You would truly rather die than lie with me?" he asked again. Looking up she saw the hurt in his eyes. This man has never felt love, has never been touched in a friendly or affectionate gesture, never once shared pleasure with a fellow human being. How sorry she felt for him, how she pitied him.

The thought wasn't lost on him. Erik read the pity in her eyes. He didn't want her pity! He could stand the hatred, the fear, the loathing, but how can he take pity? As if he was below anybody, below even a slave girl? No, he would not accept her pity. He would send her away. And that is what he did.

"Take the child away," he said.

As the nervous Eunuch approached to drag her weeping form from the room, she realized what kind of danger she was putting herself into. What the khanum would do to him for his rejection would pale in comparison with her own punishments. She would not live, no, after tomorrow she would be dead, but what torture would precede that death- unimaginable! She must do something! She must find a way out of this, and she knew only one way.

"Wait!" She screamed, to the surprise of the Eunuch who had a hold of her by her shoulders. Looking at the astonished faces of the three men in the room, she drew a deep breath, and plunged into a situation she knew she was not prepared for.

"I- I can do it." She stuttered. Sulking up to the masked man before her, she looked sorely at his pained form. He sat on the bed, hands clutched against his knees so deep that she was sure they drew blood beneath the expensive material of his pants. If they were not already skeletally white, she knew they would have been drained of all color. His back was hunched over in agonizing restraint and his face looked up at her. In those eyes, barely gleaming from behind that expressionless mask, she read a mixture of hatred, surprise, and- could it be, hope?

"Do you know what you are condemning yourself to?" he asked, spitting the words out with difficulty through his gritted teeth. Despite the urgency and hatred laced in those words, the sound of them was like music alone. If his voice was like this when he spoke, she couldn't imagine the beauty that would be emitted when his mouth opened in song.

"I condemn myself to nothing- monsieur," she spoke the word with all the grace she could, knowing he was French she hoped to begin to make up for her previous- performance- "I condemn myself to nothing, I only give myself to you, as is expected, and ask humbly for your forgiveness of my earlier behavior." She didn't look up, instead she kept her head bowed and resting on the air above his feet.

Erik did not know what to do, how to act, but after taking a moment to control his body he reached a barely trembling hand to lift her precious face towards his own- less attractive one. "Then you will do me the honor of removing my veil, as I have yours."

"Of course, monsieur," and she began to reach her nervously shaking hands towards that bone white mask. Letting her fingers tenderly trace the lace from the sides of the mask to the back of his head, she felt him slightly press his head against her soothing fingers. With a deep breath she untied the laces and placed the mask on the bed beside him before turning her head to look at the one thing she feared the most- his face.

What she saw first was not his lack of nose, not his gnarled lips, not his yellow transparent flesh, instead it was his eyes. Full of fear and pent up sorrow. His eyes broke her heart, and she did not pity him, no, she felt overwhelming compassion. She could see his beautiful soul shining through those misaligned and fiery amber eyes, and his face strangely seemed to fade from her sight. Try as she might, she saw only the face of a handsome man staring back at her. Finally finding the strength she so desperately sought, she leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss on his sunken cheek.

"Go now!" he shouted at the two men who were staring in outraged shock at the scene before them. He need not speak again, for Nadir and the Eunuch left the room in a stumbling hurry.

"Are you- can you- do you-" he could not even get the words out. For the first time in his life he felt completely at the mercy of this young female that stood before him. Lust and want took control of his body as he became acutely aware of each curve of her body. The heaving of her swollen breasts, the strong flat muscles of her tiny waist, the womanly curves of her hips, the gossamer material that barely hid the treasure that lay at the apex of her thighs-

"Monsieur," she spoke in her deeply Persian accented French, "I know what I do. I am well trained, and you need not fear your strength with me." With that she returned her lips to his cheek where they had previously rest. With increasing passion, she kissed the deformed flesh of his face, placing wet kisses along his cheek, jaw, eyelids, and finally, lips.

At first he just sat frozen in shock, letting her caress his deformed visage with her warm lips until they came to his own. With a passionate fury she massaged his distorted lips with her own rosy smooth ones. His moan of pleasure encouraged her as she moved to take his bottom lip in her own and nibbled it gently. Finally he pressed his tongue against her teeth and silently begged entrance to her smoldering opening. Twisting his tongue with her own, the two organs fought fervently and, to her own surprise, Olma let a moan of pleasure escape her lips.

This instantly caused a pause as Erik pulled the young concubine away from him to capture her eyes with his own. Surprised and encouraged by the lust he saw in her eyes, he bent her head backwards over his arm as he made a path of sweltering wet kisses along her jaw, neck, and down to the hollow of her throat. Without restraint, he ripped the material that hid her young panting bosom and slowly let his tongue trace her flesh down to her nipple. The small pink bud stood at attention as his hot breath swept past it. Taking the hardened peak into his mouth he slowly let his tongue graze against it before nibbling and sucking at it with alternating passion and gentility while massaging her other teat in his cold hands.

He felt her hands come down to grasp his face and lift it to her own before she began her descending path of kisses down his body. Stopping briefly at his throat she pulled his shirt apart to allow herself access to his chest and then his belly button. As her tongue twirled about his navel, her tiny sweaty hands began to feverishly undo the lacing of his pants. Releasing the tight grip he had on the edge of his bead Erik reached his hands down to remove the rest of her ripped dress as he kicked his own legs free of his trousers. She stopped for a minute as she caught sight of his large, engorged member and she slowly and teasingly let her fingers trace the hair of his lower region before placing a timid hand around his manhood. Nodding her on with his eyes, Erik sat up more in a desire to watch her. She dipped her head down and slowly, starting with the hot tip, began to engulf his penis in her mouth as her fingers stroked and kneaded his testacles.

His body shuddered with pleasure and he knew that if things continued this perfectly painful moment of bliss it would be just that, a moment. With a deep breath he regained control of his mutinous body and pulled the young slave girl's head from his aching manhood and laid her on the bed. After lowering himself down to the level of her thighs, he looked up expecting to see fear and revulsion in her eyes. Instead she had her head pushed back against the sheets, eyes closed in expectant pleasure, as she savagely gripped the red satin in her whitened hands. Opening her legs to him, she felt his hot breath again graze her body as he slipped a tongue to lightly taste her revealed sex.

A shock of pleasure shot through her body like electricity as her hips bucked to meet Erik's exploring tongue. Encouraged by this autonomous and arousing action he began to take her small pink bud into his lips as he sucked and nipped at her writhing body and slipped two of his fingers into her now dripping wet passage.

It was so hot, warm, and smoldering around his deathly cold skeletal fingers. He began to press his fingers in and out of her small cavity as he flicked his tongue against her small bud. He urged her trembling body onto completion as the muscles of her opening seized around his fingers.

Crawling back up her body he slipped one hand into the soft tendrils of her ebony hair, beckoning her to look at him. He wanted to see the desire and the lust that had previously betrayed itself in her eyes. Opening her thighs so that he nestled between them, she reached her hand down to once again claim his throbbing member and position it at her opening, and lifting the heavy lids of her eyes, he received the motivation he desired. With a mighty thrust he plunged himself into her.

For a moment they both lay in shock. As the pain of her breaking virginity subsided she laid very still, her body accustoming itself to his size, as Erik's own body shook viciously as the pleasure of her tight hot opening flooded his senses.

Not knowing whether or not to continue, Olma made the decision for him as she began to gently rock her pelvis against his.

Impassioned and confident, he began to increase the speed until the gentle rocking exploded into desperate and hungry thrusts.

Harder and harder he drove himself into her as she screamed out in pleasure.

Her long sleek legs tightened around his waist, drawing him in deeper, as she struggled to reach her peak. Shaking with pleasure she came again as her body tightened and spasmed around his manhood in searing ecstasy. After only two more frantic thrusts he too felt himself thrown headlong into oblivion as he let his head fall on her breasts in satisfied exhaustion.

Leaving their bodies joined, Olma drew Erik's head back up to hers and placed another gentle kiss on his lips.

Pulling himself from her he took her sweat dampened body in his arms and kissed her soft noir hair. Finally inhaling her soft fragrance he spoke quietly into her ear.

"Thank you," he whispered, "you have indeed given me a beautiful gift, and I will not force you to stay hear any longer, you no longer need to suffer or serve another man, you mademoiselle, are free."

"Olma," she replied. "You called me ‘mademoiselle' but my name is Olma. I am your gift, and if you desire me for only this night, then at least let me fulfill that small service and lie with you here tonight."

He did not need further persuading as he laid back against the soft red satin sheets, Olma still wrapped in his strong arms as he let sleep claim him. The first true, sweet, and fulfilled sleep he ever experienced.


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A/N: So yea, review if you'd like. If you want more, I'll be happy to give it. She is... ahem... "well trained" you know, so I can have fun with this. Just let me know if you liked it. (although this will never be a story story, because Erik is destined to be with Christine in my opinion, but he can have some fun before he meets her! **wink**)
xxCHEERSxx