Nakedella 4 Read online

  Published by Mojocastle Press, LLC

  Price, Utah

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Nakedella: Book Four

  Copyright ã 2007 Viola Grace

  Cover Art Copyright @ 2007 Lar DeSouza

  All rights reserved.

  Excluding legitimate review sites and review publications, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Copying, scanning, uploading, selling and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without permission from the publisher is illegal, punishable by law and will be prosecuted.

  Available online at:

  http://www.mojocastle.com/

  Also By Viola Grace:

  Nakedella: Book One

  Nakedella: Book Two

  Nakedella: Book Three

  Guardian Enjel

  Nakedella: Book Four

  Chapter One

  Nakedella had stopped screaming miles ago. The gargoyle had been waiting for her on Market day and had caught her leaving the Candlestick maker’s home. He had gripped her firmly in taloned hands and begun heavy wing beats to take them towards the distant mountains.

  She had only her cloak on her shoulders, and her bag gripped in her hands. She held to it tightly, as she had no idea when the gargoyle would land and let her eat.

  The wind was growing warmer now that they had passed the mountains, and it was soothing to her blue-tinged flesh. She had almost frozen over the high passes in the range, and the wind had numbed her body. Wherever it was taking her, it was warmer already.

  By the time it landed outside a palace, it was hot. Desert heat. He had taken her into the sandy depths of the desert where djeanies and djinns ruled, and demons ran off with fair maidens all the time.

  Remembering what she had been told, she quickly dug in the pack for her dress. It was decently concealing, in a certain light. Her cloak would have to do the additional duty of concealment.

  She finished settling herself and turned to her kidnapper. “Where am I supposed to be going?”

  “Follow me, Nakedella.” The gargoyle turned its back on her gaping mouth. She hadn’t realized that it could talk.

  She followed silently in its wake, wishing she had boots that would help her move through the sand scorching her feet. Sand slowly gave way to paved streets, and soon she was on cooler stone. She sighed in relief.

  The gargoyle paced slowly through streets that should have been teeming with people. They were empty. No one was near and she wasn’t sure, but it looked like the city had been abandoned for quite some time.

  Who could be waiting for her in this desolate place?

  Her bare feet echoed in the cavernous halls of the palace. Tiny slaps in the silence. Oddly, the gargoyle made no sound whatsoever.

  She followed her winged captor, looking in stark admiration at the beautiful and exotic tile work on the walls and floor. It was a shame that there were no humans here to enjoy them.

  A huge set of gilded double-doors heaved open at their approach, and Nakedella could just barely make out a throne in the distance.

  Halfway there, she stopped. There was a man on the throne. Or more precisely, in the throne. She continued slowly, absorbing what she was seeing with amazement.

  He was half stone and half human. His hips and below appeared to be made of the same granite that formed his seat.

  The gargoyle spoke. “Please bow low before his highness, The Stone Sultan.”

  She looked at him as if he was mad. He might have been. She executed a graceful curtsy. “I am pleased to meet you, your highness. But you obviously have no need of my services.” She gave his legs a curious glance. Yep, they were definitely stone. No action out of those trousers.

  “Welcome, Nakedella, to the palace of the Stone Sultan.” The Sultan threw his arms wide, gesturing to the grand room around them. “The most beautiful palace in the country, and I am stuck on my throne, surveying it all.”

  “The palace is lovely, but why are there no people?”

  “They left rather than live with a monarch that couldn’t defend them.” He was snarling in frustration, and Ella was just as happy to have herself out of his reach. He calmed himself with an effort, and was once again in host mode. “I notice that you are not properly attired for our country. My servant will take you to bathe and dress in a more suitable manner.”

  “You know that usually I don’t wear anything?”

  “I am aware of that. But in the sun and sand, you will be welcome for the protection. It will also allow you to go into all of the palaces and have full access to the harems.”

  She was not about to let the comment on harems slide, but she followed the gargoyle into a room hung with bright and expensive silks. A steaming waterfall was to one side, bright with the fantastic colors on the porcelain tiles.

  “A waterfall?”

  “Ifrit congregate in standing water. This prevents the invitation of those creatures.” The gargoyle had its back turned to her and was digging in a chest full of silk and gems.

  With an eye to her audience, Nakedella removed her cloak and gown. A tray with soap and lengths of towelling had been laid out in advance, and she took full advantage of them.

  She only now began to realize as she stepped under the water how much dust and grime had accumulated in her hair and skin as she had been carried screaming above the mountains. Her body seemed to sigh in relief as she sluiced off the residue of her journey—and her appointments of the morning, for that matter.

  Dried cum made her thighs stick a bit as she scrubbed it away. She had almost forgotten that her morning appointments had been kept until the hot water woke all her scratches and bruises. The candlestick maker had left stripes down her back today; he had flogged her with wrapped wicks until she squirmed, then slid one of his oiled toys into her ass and pounded into her until she came. It had been quite an exhausting morning.

  Finally feeling clean, she stepped out from under the water and wrapped her body in a length of towelling. Another length was applied to her hair and she scrubbed it until it was almost dry.

  The gargoyle set a small stool out for her, and a dressing table was assembled in a few moments.

  “You may complete your toilette here. There are brushes and cosmetics, perfumes and oils for your use. A selection of clothing has been laid out, as well as jewelry. All women of quality here wear a full selection of jewelry.

  “You will be treated as a lady, provided that you look like one. The sultan is waiting for you, so please be efficient at your preparations.”

  Curiouser and curiouser. Ella sat on the stool and began to brush her hair. The heavy and golden stuff was no longer prone to tangling thanks to Rumplestiltskin, but it still tended to take on a wild appearance if she wasn’t careful.

  When her hair had been sufficiently tamed, she outlined her eyes with kohl. It gave her startling green eyes a sleepy and sultry appearance. She stained her lips a dark scarlet with pigment from another pot and rubbed a scented cream into her face with delicate motions. A tiny dab of perfume on each inner wrist and inner thigh completed her primping. Then it was time for clothing.

  Out of the assortment of outfits laid out for her, she chose a dark burgundy to echo her lips. The tops were cut to conceal and support the breasts and not much else. The rich embroidery covering the fabric was a tangle of elaborate vines and flowers. The same elaborate embroidery covered the waistband of the skirt that matched the top. The rest of the fabric was a gauzy silk.

  A veil was included with t
he selection. Racking her mind for a picture of the inhabitants of this realm, she draped it across her head and flicked one of the trailing ends over her shoulder. The width of the fabric turned it into a light covering, falling from her head to mid-thigh.

  That should be decent enough. The only part of her face visible in the mirror was her kohl-rimmed eyes. It made for a striking contrast with her red clothing. She admired the effect for a moment, then moved over to the jewelry case that had been left for her.

  An elaborate choker soon circled her neck, a matching necklace nestled between her breasts warming against her skin. Earrings dripped from her lobes, bracelets from her wrists, and a set of anklets took their place against her arches and heels.

  A final necklace stymied her, until she realized that it was a headpiece. Once it was in place, she resettled the veil around her and turned to make a final check.

  The figure in the mirror astounded her. The headpiece covered her forehead with the delicate touch of pearls and emeralds. The heavy bracelets also encased the green gems. The burgundy fabric with golden embroidery swathed her from the crown of her head to the floor with color. Perhaps wearing clothing wasn’t so bad after all. If she could find a seamstress back home to replicate the design, she might have to change her name.

  It was almost a shame to pick up the battered bag, stuff the cloak in it and turn to the audience chamber.

  Chapter Two

  The fabric whispered and the jewelry gave metallic quivers as she walked into the throne room once again. Silence greeted her as she once again took her position before the Stone Sultan.

  Her hands folded in front of her and she waited. Her eyes met the chocolate-brown of the Sultan’s and she saw a flare of lust, then a slow smile. Mirth took over, and he threw his head back and laughed.

  If he had been able to roll to the floor, she was quite sure he would have. As it was, she waited patiently for him to recapture his self-control.

  “If I didn’t know who and what you are, Nakedella, I would swear that you were a princess or sultana.” His fingers cleared tears from his cheeks, and he smiled at her. He was amazingly handsome when he smiled, despite the fact that he was stone from the waist down.

  “Are you ready now to tell me why I have been brought here?” Despite her feminine attire, her voice was steel.

  He sighed and steepled his fingers together in front of him. “I suppose that you will need to know. Better now than later. You will need to know what you can.

  “Ten years ago, a pasha gifted me with five slaves, and his daughter. She was beauty itself, as if the moon had come to earth dressed as a woman. I loved her the moment that I saw her, and dismissed all but two of my harem out of respect to the woman to whom I was giving my heart.

  “At first all was honey between us, but then I had to defend my borders against a wild tribe from the hills. I had to leave my beloved for several weeks and when I returned, she was much altered. Her smiles were no longer directed at me; instead, she saved her loving looks for one of the slaves that her father had sent with her.

  “I was unwilling at that time to consider that she had turned to the embrace of another. The two women remaining in the harem had also gone silent in their eyes. It was the strange stillness of the handmaids that led me to believe that my beloved was no longer mine alone.” He sighed deeply again and scrubbed at his face with weariness.

  “I still hoped that she would turn back to me, but I set about to prove my suspicions one way or another. I put it through the palace that I was making a visitation to my brother’s nearby kingdom and when the procession left, I returned to the palace under dark of night. I crept into the gardens overlooking the harem with only a few guardsmen taken into my confidence. The first night of my absence, I saw a sight to turn my blood cold.

  “Under the cover of night, the slaves that her father had sent with her moved into the harem and took my beloved wife into their embraces. One after another, she took them into her body until they lay together in an exhausted heap. They rested there as the moon rose high in the night sky, then turned back to each other and began again. My blood began to boil as she took two into her body and one in her mouth together.

  “It was the final straw. Signalling to my guardsmen, who looked as ill at the sight as I was, we drew our swords and charged the harem.” His fists tightened and pounded at the arms of the throne as he relived his fury and betrayal.

  Nakedella simply stood and waited for him to complete his tale.

  “Four of the debauched slaves were slain immediately, the fifth survived simply because my wife threw herself upon him and kept me from his filthy flesh. A search of the rooms showed my faithful handmaids bound and beaten in one of their rooms. The new Sultana had threatened them with death, should they speak a word of the goings-on to me.

  “My beloved and her remaining lover were brought before me in chains. The handmaids bore witness to the goings on in the harem, and one took her life in the throne room at her betrayal of my trust. The second swore to serve me eternally, even as a dog would.” He stopped to look over at the gargoyle then, and a veil of regret covered his eyes.

  “My wife then swore that no man save her lover would ever touch her again. She accused me of having a heart of stone, then cursed me with a body to match. As long as she lived, I would remain a piece of stone, ruling from my throne.

  “As she cursed me, my feet and knees turned to granite at once. She embraced her lover and they disappeared from the palace in a mist of blue smoke. It was only then that I realized that she was of the djinn breed.

  “My country came under attack, and my people fled. The one remaining handmaid was my constant companion. She entertained me, danced and kept me from despairing completely that a cure would be found. When a travelling wizard came and offered his assistance to me, she offered her body in payment, provided that he could make her a worthy protector for me.”

  “She offered her body?” The manner in which he spoke did not have a carnal connotation.

  “She is the gargoyle that you see before you. She defends me, reads to me, and keeps me from giving in to melancholy.” He looked fondly at the hideous creature. It bowed low in response.

  “When she heard of you and your service to Prince Alak, she thought you might be able to help me. Looking at you now, I do believe she was right.”

  Nakedella looked over at the gargoyle, then at the Stone Sultan, and asked, “What can I do to help?” shaking her head at her own sentimental foolishness.

  The gargoyle strode forward. “First, you must put on these slippers. For the journey of a thousand miles will begin with one step.”

  Chapter Three

  The world spun around her as the slippers took her on the first leg of her journey. When the world righted itself, she was standing in an oasis.

  Her new footwear whispered in the sand as she approached the only structure that appeared to her. A tiny shack was perched daintily on the edge of the pool, and she could hear sobbing from within. She made her way cautiously into the dark interior of the dwelling, looking for the source of the crying.

  A woman was curled against the wall. Chains held her at the wrist and ankle, and her face was swollen with tears. She jerked with surprise when she saw Nakedella, and paled with fear. “Who are you?”

  “I am a traveler. I have just happened to pass this way and heard your grief. Why are you chained?”

  “I will give you advice, traveller, run from this place and do not return,” her hands tugged at her chains, “for there is a djinn who visits this place every night and takes his pleasure from my body. I would not have another woman fall prey to his touch.”

  Nakedella looked at the woman for a long moment before making up her mind. “Is there anything I can get you? A drink of water? Some food? I have no means of breaking the chains, or I would.”

  “Water would be wonderful, but why are you staying? Didn’t you hear me? There is a djinn coming, and the day wanes quickly.” Her eyes held
both gratitude and an empty desperation.

  She reached into the pouch and drew out a water bag. She held it to the lips of the prisoner and let her drink her fill. “Why does the djinn keep you here?”

  “It was the home of myself and my husband until he left me. He traded me to the djinn for some coin, and the djinn leaves me here. When he comes at night, it turns into a palace for his comfort.”

  Nakedella wet a cloth and drew it gently across the woman’s forehead and cheeks. “Do you stay chained when he comes?”

  “No, the chains disappear when the palace appears. He keeps me with him or locked in a room at all times.” The confused expression that crossed her features was replaced by panic as the sun set and a rumbling occurred under their feet.

  Marble spires thrust up through the floorboards and an elegant apartment took the place of the tiny shack. The chains binding the woman disappeared, and the rags she was clothed in transformed into a graceful and flattering gown of golden cloth.

  “Run! Go quickly, he comes!” The prisoner tried to shove her out of the room, but Nakedella stood her ground.

  “I have a purpose in travelling this way. I need to find a piece of the puzzle that this djinn holds.”

  A booming voice sounded right behind her, “What puzzle would that be, little morsel?”

  She turned and found herself looking directly into the chest of a blue-tinged djinn. She looked up and met his steely black gaze. “Why, the puzzle of the Stone Sultan, my lord.” She curtsied formally, and he fell back a few steps. “I also need to do some business with you, Lord Djinn.” She kept her eyes on his, watching his mercurial face go through a thousand expressions before he settled on lustful intent.

  “The business before the puzzle, then.” He clapped his hands sharply and a feast appeared on a table in the center of the room. The prisoner was standing, at loose ends. She had never had a night free of the djinn’s embrace.