The Sultan's Favorite Boy, Part 7 by Bill
In the days that followed his circumcision, Salim was with the sultan frequently, though not in his bed at night. He had begun his duties as "Favorite Boy", accompanying the 14-year-old sultan at various times throughout the day. They went on hunts in the nearby forests, took meals together, and had long periods of leisure-time in the magnificent gardens of the imperial summer palace at Bursa.
Every day, as they lay on the manicured lawn among the flowers and pools, Salim would sing for his master, drawing on his repertoire of Bosnian folk songs. Osman in turn recited poetry in Arabic and Turkish. They kissed often and whispered words of tender love to each other.
The sultan fancied himself a poet, and he sometimes composed verse on the spot, while gazing into Salim's sky-blue eyes. It made Salim swell with pride to hear the likes of this:
"Soon as I beheld you, amazed and full grew my empty heart. How shall I disclose to you the love that burns in my soul? How shall I hold straight upon my road, when yonder torment Has smitten my breast with deadly wounds by your eyelash dart? Face, a rose; and mouth, a rosebud; form, a slender sapling... How shall I not be the slave of a Prince such as thou art? Ne'er hath heart a beauty seen like your graceful figure; Joyous will I be to taste the insistent flesh of your loins. Salim, what can I do but love your peerless beauty? Ah! this aged Sphere hath made me lover of a flawless boy."
[Author's note: This is only slightly modified from a poem, translated from Turkish, that the teenage sultan, Osman II, actually wrote in the early 1600s.]
The sultan was careful not to touch Salim's sore penis during its recuperation, and had been advised by the physician to refrain as well from fucking the boy's bottom during this recovery period. But Osman had no qualms about instructing his Favorite to provide oral service.
The sultan had never been reticent about expecting sexual release whenever desire stiffened his cock. Whichever page-boy or harem- girl had been in Osman's bed when he awoke typically received a mouthful of the sultan's youthful semen as a preliminary to breakfast. And it was a rare day when the virile young adolescent had fewer than five orgasms by the time he drifted to sleep at night. When Osman made it a game (as he frequently did), there might be 10 climaxes in a day's time... each with a different partner if it suited his whim.
Salim had an intuitive sense of what pleased Osman, and his oral technique improved daily. The sultan never failed to be supremely aroused by the sight of the Balkan boy's exquisite face, and Salim might find himself on his knees with the Osman's cock in his mouth at any time of the morning or afternoon... and at any place in or around the Summer Palace. Though Salim sometimes winced with pain when his own wounded member began to stiffen during these times, he always worked diligently at pleasuring Osman, motivated by a mixture of heart-felt love and utter loyalty to his master.
While Salim did not share his master's bed, he was at his side at the evening banquets... feeding him morsels of food, whispering quips and endearments, giggling at the sultan's jokes, sometimes singing for the assembled dignitaries, often discreetly fondling the sultan's ever-horny cock through a fold in the front of his silk robe.
The entertainments that accompanied the banquets -- acrobats, singers, dancers, athletic competitions, melodramas -- sometimes gave a hint of the theme for the activities that would ensue later that night in the sultan's bedchamber. One night's banquet, for example, featured 10 pairs of page-boys, naked and glistening with oil, engaging full-strength in wrestling matches on the ornate rugs in the center of the banquet hall. They came out one pair at a time, starting with the youngest boys, in a show that lasted an hour. Though the matches only lasted a few minutes, the winner of each bout would immediately be rewarded for his wrestling prowess by sexual service from the defeated opponent... a submissive ass offered up to be fucked, or a willing mouth to suck the winner's sweaty oiled cock. The sultan and his roomful of banquet guests were as attentive in watching the assorted and well-choreographed sexual couplings as they had been to the wrestling matches that preceded. And that night, Salim was joined by two pairs of the boys -- two of them 11-year- old pre-pubescent lads and two adolescents of the sultan's age. The sultan's naked body was oiled up as well, and all five engaged in slippery rough-housing... and intense sexuality... atop Osman's oversized bed.
Salim, in the adjacent room, watched through a peep-hole in the wall. It pleased the sultan to know that his Favorite was observing these erotic activities... and perhaps learning new techniques.
Another night, a particularly beautiful 14-year-old harem girl danced for the pleasure of the sultan and his guests, and she alone came back to the bedchamber to dance naked and please Osman with her considerable erotic skills. Salim's education in sexuality was as well-served by observing such one-on-one activity as it was in peeping at the orgies.
And when two girls came to Osman's bed on a subsequent night, the education was taken yet another step forward. Salim observed for the first time how a girl could strap an artificial phallus to her hips and use it to make love, just as if she were a boy. It was intensely erotic to observe two girls fucking thus with a 6- inch shaft of carved wood, covered in soft goatskin leather. And then the sultan directed the girl wearing the dildo to penetrate HIM. As Salim watched in awe, the small-breasted harem-girl entered her master, as he lay on his back with his legs lifted high. The second girl expertly stroked Osman's cock and fondled his balls as the oiled dildo slid in and out, again and again, driving the sultan wild with lust until he finally spurted his cum into masturbating hands.
There were periods of the day during which the sultan attended to the affairs of state, in the company of his Grand Vizier and other high officials. At these times, Salim was instructed by Yusef, his eunuch attendant and tutor. Salim worked hard at learning more of the Turkish language and committing to memory the customs of the imperial court. One day, after the physician had finally removed the bandage, Yusef was bathing Salim with warm water and a sponge, very carefully dabbing at Salim's rapidly healing penis.
"The physician said you are nearly healed, Salim, and commented favorably about your recuperative powers. When he declares you fully-healed, Honored One, you will bathe each day with His Majesty in the hamam. You will enjoy it greatly, I think."
"Hamam? What is that?" asked the blond-haired lad.
"The 'Turkish bath', it is called in the European languages. Cleanliness is very important in our culture. Allah commands it, and civilized people would not think of going long between baths. In a few months time, it would repulse you to go back to the Bosnian village of your birth and smell the stench of unwashed infidel bodies! There is a small hamam in this wing of the palace for the use of His Majesty and a few companions. A much larger one is in the pages' wing, and the sultan stops by there sometimes in the afternoon to bathe and take pleasure with his page-boys.... Tell you what; I'll show it to you now. The pages are finishing their afternoon classes, and they always gather together as a group in the hamam. You needn't go in; we can observe unobtrusively."
Salim was finally becoming accustomed to the fact that the walls of the palace "have eyes", and anyone could be secretly observed at any place or time. Because there was no privacy, modestly was virtually non-existent.
After walking through a labyrinth of hallways and staircases, the two came to a narrow dark room with an intricate open latticework along one wall. Through the lattice shone light from the adjacent room, and warm humid air drifted in as well. The echoing sounds of boys' happy voices also flowed from the other side. When Salim looked through the large gaps in the swirling design that separated the rooms, his jaw dropped.
"Oh!" gasped the lad. "Oh, my goodness!" he added a giggle.
He saw that he was standing in a balcony, looking down onto a huge room lit by numerous chandeliers of oil-lamp flames. Ornate mosaic designs adorned the walls. Oriental rugs were spread out on several areas of stone floor, with divans and cushions on which to sit or recline. A very large bathing pool, far larger than any Salim had ever seen, was in the center of the room. And then there were the boys... Salim's eyes flitted from one to another. So many of them... so beautiful and varied in appearance... all of them naked! There were dozens and dozens milling about. More were entering the doors, hanging their clothing on hooks and mingling with the other boys, totally unashamed of their nudity.
"How many...?"
"There are 99 pages that the sultan brought with him on this visit to the Summer Palace. Counting you, it's 100. Another 100 remain back in Istanbul at Topkapi Palace... no doubt jealous of their more prestigious companions. They range in age from 10 to 16, though you'll note that most are between 12 and 14."
In alcoves along the sides of the bathing room were alcoves where page-boys were having their bodies washed by bath attendants (referred to by Yusef as "tellaks") and then rinsed off under waterfalls flowing from high on the wall. The tellaks were young eunuch boys, even younger than the pages, and clad in only the briefest of white loincloths to cover their emasculated genitals. With cloth mittens on their hands, the tellaks soaped the page- boys from head to toe, scrubbing vigorously.
After rinsing off the soap, the boys either lounged about on stone benches, or dried off and used the upholstered furniture, or jumped into the warm water of the immense bathing pool.
While some engaged in good-natured rough-housing, others were starting into sessions of boyish sexuality... fondling each other's erections, kissing playfully, lying down together in each other's arms.
One group of 10 naked boys seemed intent on drinking large quantities of juice and chilled coffee and tea. Salim couldn't help but notice that these 10 seemed even more attractive than the others. He recognized Hadi, the cute 10-year-old lad who had shared the sultan's bed on a previous night, as well as several of the boys who had been at the head table at banquets, serving as attendants to the sultan's most prestigious guests. A delicately exquisite 13-year-old Egyptian named Anwar caught Salim's eye, his sensuous beauty sending a slight shudder through Salim's body.
A fat, middle-age eunuch -- the page-master -- entered the room and thudded his staff noisily several times on the flagstones. The room became quiet immediately.
"His Majesty will be arriving shortly. Commence your assigned functions. Boys of the first-rank... you will go to the blue alcove to wait on your Master."
The man watched for a minute as 99 boys scurried into previously arranged locations and began their well-rehearsed activities. Several took up instruments and began playing a sensuous tune. Others assembled throughout the room in pairs or groups of three or four, eagerly undertaking ostentatious displays of erotic activity. Most of the boys were sucking and fucking in pairs, each pair assuming a different posture... a living Kama Sutra. Twenty or so of the boys stayed in the pool, keeping up their happy splashing and exuberant play.
Salim searched the room for the gypsy-boy Kamal, finding him in a daisy chain of four sucking boys... indulging in glorious sexual pleasure while also presenting an utterly obscene display.
A group of the older pages had oiled their bodies and began doing exercises that showed off their muscles, hefting large wooden clubs or wrestling at half-effort. The oldest -- a tall and broad-shouldered youth of 16 years named Ziyad -- was the most prominently displayed. Salim recognized him from the sexual melodrama that had been acted at his first banquet... his muscular and mature body, his arrogant demeanor, and most of all his impressively large cock. As he flexed his oiled biceps, abs, and pectorals, two of the smallest 10-year-olds knelt like bookends on either side of his strong hairy legs, keeping his penis fully erect with stroking fingers and flicking tongues.
"Is all this only for show?" asked Salim.
"The pages have just come from their afternoon studies, and I know for a fact that they engage in similar activities when left to their own devices. But a page's highest duty is to pleasure His Majesty... pleasing his eyes, arousing his senses, and serving him intimately when the page is given the opportunity.
"Whenever the sultan will be bathing in the pages' hamam, they create the kind of tableau you see here. It has been thoroughly planned and varies each time. If the sultan chooses to take his bath here again tomorrow, he will find a differently arranged scene. Let's go down closer. We'll watch as His Majesty plays with his boys of the first rank."
Down a flight of stairs and through two more corridors, Salim and Yusef came to a place with several narrow slots in the wall. Sliding the cover of one to the side, Salim found himself peeping into an alcove of 20 feet square, open on one side to the main room. Its walls, ceiling, and floor were completely covered with panels of the rich blue semi-precious stone, lapis lazuli. A generous flow of water cascaded from a wide flat spout, 10 feet up the innermost wall, splashing on the floor and flowing to a drain in the center of the room.
The 10 first-rank boys awaited the sultan, lined up against the side wall opposite the peep hole. Each of the beauties was playing gently with his penis to keep it erect. The lads ranged in age from 10 to 14. They came from all parts of the Empire -- the Balkans, Syria, Greece, Turkey, southern Russia, Arabia, Persia, North Africa. And their hair was an array of textures in blond, black, red, and brunette... skin tones ranging from pale to olive to dusky. Ah, and their perfect cocks... all circumcised, all standing straight up, ranging from Hadi's slender 3-inch morsel to Anwar's maturing 6-incher.
Salim could see Osman slowly walking around the main room, taking in the sexual scenes being acted out for his visual pleasure. Every so often, he would step into the action, kissing an especially tempting mouth... stroking a boyish erection, watching a particularly creative and artistic coupling.
When he came to the muscular older boys, his hands wandered Ziyad's flexing muscles and throbbing adult-sized erection. It was clear that he liked what he saw.
The sultan remained clothed until he reached the blue alcove, where a small eunuch-boy stepped from the shadows to remove his robe and disappear with it through an outer door. Osman was already half-hard, and the light touch of his fingers brought his cock the rest of the way to stiff arousal.
"Who will be first?... Hadi? Shall we engage in combat?" said Osman in mock-challenge.
"I am ready, Sire," giggled the young boy, stepping up to stand toe-to-toe with Osman.
Expecting sexual activity, Salim instead watched as the sultan and his young page-boy each took his own penis in his hand and let a burst of urine squirt out... directly onto each other's bodies, cris-crossing like swords in a duel. The stiff erections made it easier to stop the flow, and Osman conserved most of the contents of his full bladder as another of the boys stepped up... then another. But it quickly dissolved into a free-for-all, as all of them joined in -- peeing on one other, on themselves, and most of all on the sultan. Excited laughter, and high-pitched squeals of delight from the younger boys, echoed through the room.
Clearly, Osman's jaded erotic senses were aroused by more than convention sexuality. Salim was amused by this strange activity, but in a few more moments he was quite astounded as he watched Osman kneel down in the middle of the room as pairs or trios of boys in succession began peeing all over his body. Sprays of hot liquid were directed onto his chest and belly and crotch. The sultan masturbated as urine flowed over his stiff cock and stroking hand. And when Osman made his even-more-perverted desire evident, by opening his mouth wide and closing his eyes, the boys redirected the warm streams of pale fluid to the new location.
In a few minutes, all of the participants had exhausted the contents of their previously-full bladders, and a half-dozen young eunuch-boy tellaks came in to scrub them with cloth mitts and rinse them under the artificial waterfall. Then the lot of them ran to the heated pool and jumped in, splashing and wrestling, hugging and groping, as all around them in the room 89 other boys continued their lascivious activity.
"You enjoyed the sight," said Yusef, as they turned away from the peep-holes. It was a statement rather than a question.
Salim grinned sheepishly. His hand had been down the front of his pants, and he had been fondling his penis unconsciously, oblivious to the physician's instruction to refrain from masturbation.
That night, an assortment of entertainments followed the banquet. Several singers, a group of acrobats, and finishing with displays of strength by the same older pages who had been showing their muscles that afternoon for the sultan's enjoyment. Again, the naked bodies shimmered with oil as they hefted weights and flexed muscles. Again the center of attention was Ziyad, who effortlessly made his cock remain at its full 8 inches of erection.
For his bed-chamber fun, Osman had instructed the page-master to stage a drama to be enacted... starring the sultan himself and only one other actor. As Salim watched through the peep-hole, the sultan's tailor dressed him in ragged garments. The clothing had been made that very afternoon, and it was an exaggerated theatrical version of what the poorest young street-beggar might wear. And when a tall, burley youth entered the room wearing the uniform of a Janissary officer, Salim was not at all surprised that it was Ziyad.
"Please sir," said Osman in a falsetto voice (which almost made Salim giggle), as he stood in the corner of his bed-chamber, cringing slightly. "Can you spare a coin? I've not eaten all day, sir."
"A beggar-boy, eh?" said Ziyad. He had a naturally deep voice and was good at acting his role of a scornful adult. "I'll not GIVE you anything, but if you wish to earn it, I'll pay you two copper mangirs to serve me for an hour. What say you, boy?"
"Oh, yes sir," said Osman in his pretend-timid voice. "I'll do whatever you command."
"Then you shall quench my lust, beggar-boy. Have you ever pleasured a man before?"
"N-no, sir... The older boys sometimes make me suck their cocks back in the alley, but I... I've never served a man."
"Well then, it's bloody-well time you learned... Get on your knees and open up my trousers... Take out my cock and give it a suck. And make it good, or I'll box your ears, and you'll not get a single mangir."
In a moment, Osman was kneeling before the muscular "soldier", unbuttoning the heavy wool trousers. Ziyad wore no undergarment, and Osman's fingers immediately wrapped around the thick, half- hard circumcised cock that sprang out. He stroked it lightly a few times and then lowered his mouth around the widely-flared cockhead. The sultan's eyes closed, and a look of energized ecstacy spread across his face as his lips and tongue went to work. Salim once more marveled at the 8-inch length and broad girth of Ziyad's magnificent cock. A set of balls that would do a horse proud hung below it. The young boy's eyes had been drawn to these manly parts each time he had seen the 16-year-old page naked and hard.
The sultan's head began to bob eagerly as his mouth took in more than half of the erection on each down-stroke. Ziyad sighed with satisfaction as he removed his tunic. Then he entwined his fingers in Osman's hair, forcefully guiding the vigorous blow job, and his words played to the sultan's desire to explore his submissive fantasies... this strange compulsion to be dominated by a powerful young man.
"Suck my cock, peasant... Take it, boy.... Come on; you can do better than that, you pathetic little beggar... Take me deep in your throat.... Do it, cock-sucker."
Osman was in a daze of animalistic lust. The realistic play- acting inflamed Osman's senses, and his mouth moved up and down the entire length of the cock-shaft with wanton desire. He was consumed by sexual hunger as he repeatedly allowed the thick slippery phallus to penetrate his throat.
Then Ziyad pulled Osman's face away and grumbled: "Now strip nude, boy, and show me your body... then get on the bed with your ass raised up. I fancy shoving my cock up your butt-hole, my little beggar-boy." He stepped out of his trousers and stood tall above the kneeling Osman. The sultan's face was flushed; a trail of saliva ran from the edge of his mouth as he looked up at Ziyad's stern face. The 16-year-old looked very much a man, with a stubble of beard on his face, a smattering of hair across his powerful chest... and more plentiful body hair on his legs, at his armpits, and around the impressive cock that glowed dark-red and throbbed with arousal.
"Oh no, sir... Don't fuck me... please!" gasped Osman, his face showing a mask of fear. "I'm a virgin, and your member would tear me apart! Please don't fuck me, sir!"
"Insolent gutter-snipe. I'm paying for your body... I'll take you how I want."
And with that, Ziyad pulled Osman to his feet and ripped the ragged clothes clean off him in a single tug of his strong hands. Salim noted that the sultan's 6-inch penis was straining upward in erection without having been touched, betraying his arousal and giving lie to his show of fear.
"I'll teach you to refuse the command of a Janissary officer...." Ziyad sat down on the bed and dragged Osman face-down across his lap. Both youths were completely naked; both cocks achingly stiff. With his erection pressing against Ziyad's hairy thigh, the sultan braced for what would be the first spanking in his entire life. Osman had instructed the page-master in great detail about what he wished, and the scenario was playing out perfectly so far.
"Oh, please, sir! Have mercy!" he bleated. But Osman was living out a fantasy that had burned in his mind many times, and he had no intention of stopping it now.
When Ziyad's hand landed on the sultan's pale ass cheek, it stung only slightly and was followed by a few sensuous rubs before the hand rose and fell again. The 16-year-old page knew that he was treading on dangerous ground here. If he was too rough, he would anger the sultan and be subject to punishments that he didn't wish to contemplate. But if he was too mild, this too would annoy Osman. The page-master had given him explicit directions -- to steadily increase the severity of the spanking until the sultan cried out his submission. As his hand delivered harder spanks, the page-boy could tell he was doing it right. And he knew he was perfect actor to play this role, since it matched his true personality so well. Indeed, Ziyad had to restrain his urge to let loose his brutal instincts... the arrogant dominance that he played out daily in the page quarters. Ziyad had enjoyed the way the other pages feared him (even when they fawned over him), and he often bullied the smallest and weakest of them... demanding their sexual service in much the same way he was now demanding the sultan's. But he was even rougher with the meek little eunuch boys... the 8 and 9-year-old attendants who were required to offer their mouths and asses without hesitation to any man or page-boy in the palace who fancied a suck or fuck.
As the older youth's hand slapped harder and more rapidly on Osman's butt, the sultan reveled in the sensation. His stiff penis humped into Ziyad's lap with each spank, and Osman felt a growing urgency to move on to the next scene.... He wanted his near-virgin ass penetrated by Ziyad's extraordinary cock, which he could feel pressing against the side of his hip. He was so hot to be fucked that his anus quivered in anticipation. It was this lust, rather than the pain from his reddened ass that caused him to call out:
"Please, sir! I submit to you! You may use me as you wish.... Oh, please; no more! I will let you fuck me!"
"That's better, my little whore. Now get in position, lest I take a switch to you."
Osman lay face-down across the side of the bed, with his feet on the floor and his ass raised up.
"Please be gentle, sir" he whimpered as he looked back over his shoulder."
Ziyad had lubed his cock with warm oil and wasted no time with preliminaries. Standing at the sultan's proffered hind-quarters, the youth rubbed his thick cockhead back and forth against Osman's puckered hole. The anal muscle twitched at the contact, and the soft slick head pushed forward. Ziyad's cock was considerably larger than the very few that previously had penetrated Osman's asshole, but the sultan craved it... welcomed the erotic sensations, even with the knowledge of the inevitable pain that would mix with the pleasure.
Then Osman felt the sharp slap of a hand on his right ass-cheek. "Come on, slut! Open your cunt to me! Come on, fuck-boy... take my cock."
Osman strained to flex the hole open as the sturdy erection pushed in slowly. The strain on the sultan's face was a strange mixture of discomfort and ecstacy... the burn of over-stretched muscle and the tingling of super-charged nerve endings. He mumbled the words of his mental script, but seemed utterly lost in the swirl of physical sensations. "Oh, sir... please don't... oh... please... oh... oh... please... ohhhhhhh... yes..."
The first three inches of Ziyad's cock had gradually slid their way into Osman's ass, and now the older youth pulled back an inch... then forward again. He began to fuck in and out... in slow and shallow fuck-strokes inside the sultan's dilated hole.
SLAP! Ziyad's hand wacked the ass cheek again, making Osman jump slightly, and then softly groan with pleasure-pain.
"That's it, whore. Your ass is mine. I'm gonna teach you how to be my fuck-boy. I may even take you back to the barracks and share you with my comrades." Though he spoke with confident lust, Ziyad was actually struggling to hold his powerful desire in check. Had this been a page-boy beneath him, or especially a young eunuch slaveboy, he wouldn't care a whit about anything except satisfying his own desires... even if it meant the virtual rape of the other boy.
But everything Ziyad was hearing and feeling was telling him that the sultan actually wanted that kind of rough treatment! Ziyad slapped Osman's ass again... twice more... and hard. He grumbled some additional arrogant verbal abuse. The sultan only moaned with pleasure and brought his hand to his crotch to masturbate himself.
Ziyad's instinct was leading him to a very bad decision. 'If His Majesty LIKED be bullied... WANTED to be fucked hard, then a hard fuck he shall have!' This thought instantly increased the temperature of Ziyad's barely-contained lust, and it boiled over violently. And at the same moment that Osman was lifting his ass up even higher, and pushing it back to take the cock even deeper, Ziyad grabbed Osman's hips and thrust to the hilt... then pulled back and rammed his cock home again... and again and again. He leaned forward and grasped onto the sultan's shoulders, pushing him down into the soft bed, as he fucked with uncontrolled abandon.
The instant cry of pain and protest caught in Osman's throat and was muffled by the bedcovers. The sultan was plunged into the most unbearable agony, as his bowel was pummeled by the battering ram phallus. And when he protested, the cries that emerged from Osman's throat were ignored, taken as being only part of the game. A dozen times in quick succession, the muscular page stabbed with his cock in long fuck-strokes.
"Ziyad, you stupid dog! You denizen of a pig sty! You soon-to-be dead man! STOP IT!!"
When the words finally penetrated his lust-addled brain, Ziyad pulled out of Osman's ass and sank to the ground, prostrating himself... all thoughts of play-acting having been erased instantly.
"Oh, Sire! I beg your forgiveness!... I was sure that you wanted me to...."
"SILENCE!!... How dare you presume to know what I want... By Allah; I am in such pain..."
Osman's hand went back to his asshole, and his fingers came up bloodied. He moaned as if he were dying, and stretched out to pull the satin cord that would summon his bodyguard. In a few moments, a very large, very black, Nubian eunuch entered the room. He surveyed the scene in the room at a glance and began to pull out his scimitar to decapitate the groveling Ziyad.
"Hold, Aswad. Don't ruin my carpet with the blood of this dog.
"What would my Master have me do?"
"A pipe of hashish and opium for a start. And summon my physician. As for THIS," he said gesturing to Ziyad; "perhaps I shall deal with him myself after I have smoked some medicine. String him up in the usual fashion and bring me a punishment rod from the rack on the wall... the second from the top... yes, that flexible one."
In short order, the sultan's commands had been carried out to the letter. He knelt on the bed in a posture not unlike the one in which he had been fucked... smoking intoxicating fumes from the hose of a hookah while the middle-aged eunuch physician examined his anus and probed carefully into his rectum. Ziyad faced the wall, his wrists tethered with leather cuffs attached to taut ropes suspended from the ceiling; his ankle-cuffs attached to iron rings set into the floor. Aswad stood at the door, his large arms crossed.
Salim, who had not made a peep the entire time, stood transfixed at the peep hole that allowed a view of the intensely exciting drama. This day had been filled with wondrous discovery, and it just kept getting more incredible.
"It appears to be only bruises, Your Majesty," said the physician. "A small tear at the entrance has produced the blood." I am confident you will heal quickly, with no intervention by me. But I pray you notify me, Sire, if any blood should appear in the chamber pot at your next elimination." The physician had years of experience in treating the injuries caused by too-large cocks fucking unaccustomed asses... especially those of newly-arrived slave boys. He paused for a moment as the still-naked sultan sat up and took another big puff on the wooden mouthpiece at the end of the hookah's hose. When the physician spoke again, it was in a halting voice. "Sire... if I may be so impertinent as to suggest...."
"Yes, yes; I know what you're going to say. That the sultan should never be fucked in the ass."
The physician looked embarrassed. "Sire... I would not be so presumptuous as to tell you... but, ahh... your point about traditional protocol is well-taken. I was going to advise that any future pursuit of this particular pastime should be preceded by the course of stretching that is used with the new boys... the progression of gradually wider and longer plugs that can be inserted in the nether-hole to prepare it."
"Yes; perhaps... But for now, I have no interest in trying this activity again."
"Is there anything further I may do to serve you, Sire?"
Osman looked over at Ziyad and then back at the physician. He motioned for the man to come close, and then whispered in his ear.
"Yes, sire. It shall be done this very night," said the physician, and then he left the room.
Salim took hold of the slender punishment rod and brought it down hard on the bedcover. The sound of it whistling through the air and slapping against the satin cloth made Ziyad flinch... and made Osman smile. But when the sultan began to stand up, he grimaced and sat back down.
"Aswad, bring my Favorite Boy in here."
Salim heard this of course, and was already in the hallway when the big eunuch opened the door of Osman's bedchamber.
"Osman! Are you badly hurt?" asked Salim with concern. The Favorite Boy, alone among all in the palace, could address the sultan by his given name.
"No, my love. Not badly. But I am feeling the effects of the medicine, and I need you to help me in punishing this villain. Take the rod and paint some stripes along his body."
Salim had never received a whipping, though he'd watched as other boys... back in his Bosnian village... were whipped by their fathers. There had not been much privacy when families lived in small shacks, and the "woodshed" was a simple lean-to in full view of the neighbors.
"I will do as you wish, Osman," said the boy in a reluctant tone. He held the wooden dowel in his hand and whipped the air a few times.
"Remove your robe, Salim. It will get in your way." The sultan didn't bother to mention that the sight of the boy's nude body would please him.
Salim let his robe drop to the floor and stood naked beside the silent and motionless Ziyad. The now-humble 16-year-old had been thinking of all the horrible things that might happen to him, and the prospect of a beating was among the mildest of all the possibilities. What he feared most -- even more than having his head separated from his shoulders by Aswad's scimitar -- was being sent to a war-galley, where he would spend the rest of his life chained naked to a heavy oar, feeling the overseer's whip on his back whenever he lagged, and praying for death to take him from that hell-on-earth.
Salim raised the whip above his head, recalling how he'd seen it done, and brought it down sharply on Ziyad's buttocks. The youth flinched, but didn't utter a sound. Again the rod came down, this time on the backs of Ziyad's thighs.
"Harder, my sweet. You're too gentle with this ox," said Osman, as he continued smoking his hookah.
Salim had no ill-feelings toward Ziyad -- he didn't really know him -- but he felt a surge of excitement as he applied the rod to the stoic older youth. This was his first taste of the trill that comes from holding total dominance over another.
The sultan could see it too. "I see that it pleasures you to discipline this scoundrel."
Salim glanced down for a moment, and saw that his penis was rigidly erect. It didn't hurt, either... a sign that it was nearly healed.
"But you're still not doing it properly, Salim.... You've much to learn about such things, my pet. Come sit with me and share my pipe.... Aswad, show my gentle lover how this task is done."
The Nubian eunuch took the rod and began to lay a pattern of welts all across Ziyad's back, buttocks, and legs. He whipped with ferocious speed and intensity... so hard that Salim was sure the rod would break. Under Aswad's punishment, muffled sounds of pain issued from behind Ziyad's clenched teeth and closed mouth. And when his head slumped forward, it was clear that he had passed out.
"Enough. Take him to the physician," said the sultan.
Salim was glad that the youth would be given medical treatment. His entire back side looked horrible.
"Come to me, dearest one," said Osman to Salim when they were alone. "I've missed having you in my bed all these nights since you became purified in the eyes of Allah. With the bandage removed, I can see that the physician did his usual excellent work. Y our parts were beautiful before, but they are now exquisite."
Though Salim's penis still bore a ring of nearly-healed scab, it was indeed beautiful... the slightly-flared glans always on proud display, hinting at erection even when soft. And his ball-sack was so perfect in form that the combination of penis and scrotum seemed a work of art... boyish genitals so idealized that the Florentine sculptor Donatello might have used the image for his bronze statue of David.
"I feel sleep coming on, Salim. Lay here in my arms."
The two snuggled together on the bed and kissed softly. The effects of smoking opium and hashish made them both lethargic, and they drifted to sleep in minutes.
When he awoke, Salim felt a hand fondling his crotch. Osman lay behind him, their bodies spooned together, idly toying with Salim's ball-sack and morning erection and kissing the back of his neck. Salim realized almost immediately that Osman's warm and throbbing 6-inch erection was pressing against his butt.
"Good morning, Osman.... How do you feel?"
"Much better, my love. A little twinge of discomfort, but almost back to normal I think. After you give me a good suck, I shall no doubt be in top form."
Salim twisted around in the sultan's arms, kissed him seductively, them slithered down to take Osman's cock in his mouth.... This would be a morning ritual to be repeated every time Salim awoke in the sultan's bed.
A few days later, Salim was declared fully healed and he returned to his rightful place in the sultan's bed nearly every night. On most nights they were joined by harem girls and page-boys... alone or in various arrangements. Typically, though, only Salim remained in the bed by morning. And now that he was healed, he bathed daily with Osman in the haman... sometimes the sultan's private bath, but occasionally with the mob of pages in the massive room.
One day, during his afternoon studies with Yusef, Salim asked what had become of Ziyad. He had not seen the youth in the pages' hamam and felt guilty about his own role in the Ziyad's severe beating.
Yusef knew full-well what had happened. Everything going on in the palace was known to the Eunuch Brotherhood - the former attendants who held the positions of highest importance and authority in the palace. But Yusef also knew when to be circumspect.
"Ziyad has been in the infirmary. He has been... ill. I hear tell, however, that he has recovered and will return to the pages' hamam tomorrow afternoon. No doubt you and His Majesty will be there to greet him."
Salim did not think much of the comment, but on the next day he did indeed accompany Osman to the great hamam. Strangely, the page-boys were not acting out an ornate erotic tableau this time, though sensual music was playing and the boys were all totally naked. They seemed to be waiting expectantly for something, even after the sultan and his Favorite Boy sat down on an ornate divan at one side of the room. Osman's arrival was the cue for the entry through the door of two hefty eunuch guards and... was that... could it really be... Ziyad? Dressed like a dancing girl? Face and eyes made up like a whore? Body completely shaved of hair?
A chorus of excited whispers went up from the boys immediately. Ziyad was brought before the sultan, and he immediately dropped to the floor in abject submission.
"Get up, fool. I thought you were going to entertain us with a dance?"
"Yes, master... oh yes; of course!" His speech sounded odd, but it was difficult to say why.
The music played louder, and Ziyad -- the macho youth who had so recently been the arrogant stud -- began dancing like a woman performing a strip tease. There was nothing intentionally comic in his manner... he was trying his best to play the part with utter conviction. But the onlookers were laughing nonetheless. Ziyad's nipples were painted the same garish crimson as his lips, and sarcastic remarks from the dozens of pages made his face turn an even deeper shade of red than the make-up blush on his cheeks. The boy who had always bullied the others was now forced be a total sissy for everyone to see.
Salim was looking forward to seeing the teenager's big cock, and wondered if it had been shaved of pubic hair in the same manner that his legs and chest and underarms had been shorn. When the last garment came off, there came a loud gasp in unison from dozens of mouths. He was a eunuch! Ziyad's penis and balls had been removed completely by the physician and the skin expertly sutured together. The wound had healed, and all that remained was a small hole that allowed his pee to dribble out as he squatted like a girl.
"Enough of your pathetic dancing, eunuch," said Osman. "Let's see how well you can serve 100 cocks, one after the other. Get into your position, whore. I'm sure you've been told what fate awaits you if so much as one of my boys finds your service to be unsatisfactory."
They moved to another part of the large room, and Salim noticed that a raised platform had been built there. On it was the most unusually-shaped piece of furniture Salim had ever seen. But when Ziyad lay face-down on it, Salim could see that the apparatus had been designed so that the user was perfectly positioned to be fucked in the ass by someone standing behind, and to be face- fucked by someone standing at the other end.
"Salim, you and I shall go first. I think you'll find that his oral skills are much improved. I'm told he has a new technique that is quite pleasing. But I prefer to take the back instead."
Osman stepped behind Ziyad, whose ass was raised up. He knelt on two narrow "arms", a strap holding each knee in place. His legs were splayed apart, and the design of the apparatus allowed the sultan to stand right behind... with his hardening cock at asshole-level. The sultan spit on his palm, rubbed his cock a few times to bring it fully firm, and then jabbed hard into Ziyad's tight hole. The youth yelped involuntarily at the pain, but quickly clamped his mouth shut as Osman began fucking him in fast, long, brutal thrusts.
Salim stepped up to Ziyad's face. The youth's torso lay on a flat surface that inclined down, with a clever bracket that held Ziyad's head in position. When the 16-year-old opened his mouth wide, ready to take Salim's cock, it was revealed that Ziyad's front teeth had been extracted, six at the top and six on the bottom. As he slurped up Salim's dick, it slid between bare gums.
Salim had never experienced a sensation like this... not from the mouth of another boy; not from fucking a boy's ass; not from sliding into the tight damp girl-sex of the young acrobat named Jamilah. The top of the Salim's 4-inch erection was gliding along soft wet gums and continuing against the roof of Ziyad's mouth. The bottom of the boy-cock was pleasured by gums and slithering tongue. Since Ziyad's head was restrained, Salim controlled the pace, and he began to fuck his hips in slow thrusts, shivering at the erotic stimulation.
Salim looked up and saw the intense expression on Osman's face. If the definition of "rape" is the merger of sex, hostility, and aggression, then there is no doubt that the sultan was raping Ziyad. Osman's hips were slamming into the older lad's ass, and his fingers dug into the flesh of Ziyad's upraised ass cheeks.
Then Osman's eyes met Salim's, and his anger seemed to subside as they looked intensely into each other's eyes. Salim smiled and began to thrust faster. The boy and his Master were now matching the pace of their rapid, hard fuck-strokes. Before long, both were rewarded by intense orgasms.
Ziyad, for his part, would never experience orgasm again. But he was happy to still be alive. And he knew it was far better to live as a eunuch slave on dry land, rather than a galley slave on the Mediterranean Sea or Indian Ocean.
As Osman and Salim climbed down from the platform, two pages immediately took their places, fore and aft. As always, the page-master had choreographed the event, with sole consideration given to the sultan's entertainment. The page with the largest cock (now that Ziyad had relinquished the title), began a brisk fuck of the new eunuch's ass. Ten-year-old Hadi was at the mouth, standing on a riser that a guard had put into place on the platform to lift him up. The youngster's squeals of pleasure indicated that Ziyad would be trying just as hard to please all the pages as he had been with the Favorite Boy.
Osman and Salim sat on a comfortable divan to observe for a while, as a series of older boys shot their cum into Ziyad's rectum and several pre-pubescents attained tingling dry orgasms.
"Let us bathe, Salim," said the sultan. They walked naked to an alcove where two eunuch-boys washed them thoroughly with soapy mitts on each hand. After they rinsed and jumped into the pool, the Favorite Boy and his master watched intermittently as the activity on the platform continued. Two lines of page-boys moved slowly, as they waited their turns to use Ziyad's body. Salim calculated that it would take hours, as Ziyad was double-fucked time, after time, after time.
Osman yawned, somewhat theatrically. "We'll go back to my bedchamber now. I desire to nap with you before the banquet. Perhaps we'll return here after a time to see how things are going.... Or perhaps not.... I've decided to have target practice tomorrow morning, and I think Ziyad will be invited to be there. You'll enjoy my special type of target practice, Salim."
The End [write to me at bil47@yahoo.com]