Mediha

Her consciousness returned, and she knew that someone had pulled her out of the water. She could still hear the sounds of a scuffle and she opened her eyes and looked in its direction.

It was a Hellenic boy dressed in commoner’s dirty linen clothes, and he was soaked  from head to toe. He was wrestling the assassin the best he could, but the assassin was gaining. The boy’s back was arched back, while the assassin was pushing him back against his shoulders and his hips simultaneously, in an attempt to break his spine through the application of sheer strength. The boy was well aware of his predicament, and was no warrior. He wore his terror on his face, as rivulets of sweat threaded down his cheeks.

The princess leaped up, in all her naked glory, and ran behind the assassin, who tried whirling while maintaining her grip on the boy. The princess used both her hands’ index fingers and stabbed the eyes of the assassin in one sharp, very improbable jab. The assassin reeled, and dropped her hold on the boy, and fell back screaming in a strange tongue. She turned and ran into the dark corridor that led to the secret passages of the palace.

There was no point in giving her pursuit personally. The princess knew she’d have to call her guards. The princess whirled around from the direction of the assassin’s flight, and faced the boy, who had fallen to his knees, and was panting. He flashed her a grateful look. She nodded. He had saved her life, so he owed her nothing. Then he looked down at her body, and she glared at him, willing him to look away, while she covered her breasts with one hand and her nether region with another, while looking for her clothes.  He pretended to look away.

The Hellene worked at the court. Princess Mediha knew him because of the palace gossip about a boy outsmarting the Sultana’s council. Now he had saved her life.

She didn’t fancy the boy’s apparent fascination with her, but she was well bred and was certainly no ingrate. She knew that she was bonded to this boy, and as someone who had saved his life, and who had had her life saved by him. When someone saves your life, they become akin to family. It was the ancient law that no man or woman had written but everybody followed. Water dripped off both their persons, as they had shared something that makes humans far more intimate than making love. They had been in the presence of near certain death together, and that from the same foe.

The boy’s presence in her quarters had been unexplained, but she allowed him to go unchallenged. He told her he had been lost in the labyrinth that the shadows of the palace housed, and she pretended he was telling her the truth. The sly and lusty look in his eyes bothered her, but he seemed a harmless boy. She knew that most adolescent boys thought with their penis.

She had screamed for the palace guards, and her private retinue of female warriors streamed into her chambers, each giving the Hellene a look of surprise and almost assaulting him before the princess stopped them and explained what had happened.

The warriors fanned out into the dark, internecine depths of the palace labyrinths, hoping to cut the throat of the assassin before the hour was up. A few stayed behind, staying close to the princess, and eyeing the boy as though his presence offended them.

Mohal

General Mohal looked very worried. After his secret meeting, he returned to his quarters and slept for several hours. He didn’t even have the stomach for his usual sexual games. He was told by someone that one of his young slave girls had died. Somehow he didn’t remember that, but it didn’t matter. Slaves died every day; such was their lot.

All he could picture in his mind’s eye was the gigantic abyss that he had been facing, and the sheer monstrous power of the entity that he had sought the aid of. He was very worried. The presence of this entity was something else, and there was absolutely no question of denying this entity anything.

The entity’s demand was terrifying. The general knew that denying it wasn’t an option. If he acceded to it, however, he wasn’t sure that he would retain any shred of himself. The entity may consume him as part of the process.

He slapped the slave girl who had lived through his nocturnal sadism, venting his frustration. He was surprised. She looked a lot more resilient today, and seemed to have healed more than humanly possible. He grinned to himself. He was surprised for a second. He thought he saw the girl smiling. She wasn’t now. She was looking down.

Imi

She dreamed of him, night and day. The name Rustum was on her lips at all times. Her mother noticed that her sparring had deteriorated, and she received too many skin wounds as sharp reminders to be alert and attentive. She spent more time staring into ponds and taking solitary walks than she ever had, and this was terribly out of character for someone who was as socially active as her.

Princess Lubna was awaiting word from the Persian satrap. She wondered whether she should tell her mother what she was doing, but decided against it. Their relationship with the Persian kingdom wasn’t specially warm, and she hoped that her initiative and her love would bring the two kingdoms together. Her mother would receive a gift of allies, because her daughter employed the power of love.

Younos

Every woman who crossed his path thought he was a boy. He was in his twenties, but his accursed baby face undid him every time. Younos cursed silently, while enjoying the princess’s hospitality.

It was difficult. The princess’s beautiful form was just a few feet away from him. She had personally supervised his afternoon snack, and checked on him, and she asked him to come back when he desired. She also told him that he was family now, because of his action. It was an ancient law of the Arabs.

Younos loved it. He planned to come back to ogle to princess, of course. He also knew that he could learn so much more about palace politics through sly inquiries from someone as powerful as her. He was beginning to like his life. The Sultana trusted him, and now her daughter trusted him. He hadn’t been trusted a whole lot in his life before, so it made him feel astonishingly light on the inside.

Her female warriors turned him on even more. One of them looked Hellenic, and he tried stealing glances at her dark blonde locks and the bronze armored bust that covered her breasts. She glowered at him, catching him at the precise moment he stared at her bust.

The boy turned red in the face, and turned his head away. He turned to face the princess, and  excused himself, because he had to go and meet the Sultana on urgent business. He heard a soft chuckle behind him as he left.

Sultana

They went over the sisters’ messages with the Hellenic boy again. He had nothing to add that the palace scribes had not sieved from the messages. This boy had his wits about him, however, and the Sultana was hoping that he would think of something she hadn’t.

Her frustration for so many years had been that finding a good adviser was close to impossible. Her nonagenarians were wise, but they no longer thought well on their toes, and completely alien situations challenged them in ways that they were not prepared for. A boy such as this one was a godsend.

The messages were clear. There was something within their own kingdom that the sisters were mortally afraid of. Something of enormous power. That something was hidden in the area between the woods that were shaped like a star and a Wadi that was nearby.

The Sultana’s soldiers had scoured the entire region multiple times. She had made one visit to the region herself. Now it was deliberation time. She had already debated digging up the entire region. Perhaps there was some gem or treasure that contained enormous power that could control these sisters. Perhaps an entity of enormous potency was hiding beneath the earth, and they would have to dig to get to it. Perhaps there was some plant in this two mile region that was poisonous to the sisters.

She ran these ideas by her council members, which now included the sharp Hellene. The boy shook his head at every suggestion, and then was lost in thought, much as the Sultana was. Her advisers were lost in thought as well.

The boy wondered aloud whether they knew the origin of these snakes. Nobody knew where they had come from, and it was a sound enough suggestion that they attempt to uncover their origins. It had been one of the Sultana’s first thoughts, however, but there had been no information forthcoming. She had sent spies and soldiers to the Persian border, from whence these sisters had appeared.

Her spies reported nothing of substance. The sisters had decimated some Persian outposts, but that was only because they had been attacked. Their intent was to disable the Sultana’s border security.

Even this didn’t logically add up to any person who was capable of thought in the council room. The sisters were mortally afraid of something within their kingdom. It would have made more sense for them to turn tail and run, or to simply launch an attack on that something in order to get it over with, but they were disabling the kingdom’s border security.

It was almost as if the sisters wanted to get the attention of whatever they were mortally afraid of.

Persia

The satrap wondered how he should receive this news. Tushna, his chief consort was against the proposal. First, it had been made by the Arab princess, and not officially by her parents. Second, may the Ahuras protect his immortal soul, her son was no model of virtue, and would ruin a foreign girl’s life.  It appeared that such a proposal would lead to personal and political grief on so many fronts. She advised him to ignore such a proposal for now. If the Sultana made an offer, they could rethink it, even if it cost the girl her happiness. But this didn’t make sense.

He wasn’t so sure. The Sultana’s kingdom had deep coffers, and her power was to be feared. He knew that they had cold relations, even though they were neighbors. He wanted that to change, if only to learn more from her and her reign. Besides, it would be an interesting challenge to pit his wits against the Sultana.

He also learned of disturbing news of monsters attacking every military outpost along the Sultana’s borders. He wasn't sure what he should make of it, especially in light of the fact that these monsters had first been sighted in his kingdom, albeit close to the border.

Their emissary Erach was a shrewd one. He had brought back such a cornucopia of information that it took several hours to hear and discuss it all.

Nadia

The chants were in a tongue Nadia didn’t understand, but she paid attention to every syllable, and how it was uttered. The general knelt in front of fire pit as he chanted, and thick clouds of smoke wafted up and enveloped him.

Her throat hurt from observing him from her vantage point, inhaling all that smoke, but she had to do it. If she died the moment after she obtained her desire, she would die happy. She learned every chant the best she could, and observed his actions as he did them. He was becoming subservient to some higher, deeper, darker force, and she had no idea what to make of it.

He dragged goats in there to make dark sacrifices, and her heart bled for the goats. He watched him pull their still beating hearts from their breasts, making a quick incision and killing them with a precision that was surely practiced. He brought thousands of minute stones that reminded her or sapphires, but must have been something else for they were consumed by the flames as he offered these into the fire pit. A fierce blue flame marked the pinnacle of their consumption. He even brought a series of human skulls and chanted as he arranged them in different configurations.

Whatever vile calumny had corrupted the general’s heart, that did not interest her. What was of chief purport, however, was the fact that it was his heart. She visualized herself carving out his throbbing, pulsing heart, even as he was alive, and then recoiled at the horror of her own frenzied fantasy.

She went through ups and she went through downs, but she learned every syllable. For sometimes it takes a thorn to remove a thorn.

Farmer’s girl

The young girl was worn from too much travel. For farmers to travel half the breadth of the entire kingdom took a full twenty days, given that they traveled by camel, and traveled mostly before dawn and after dusk to escape the merciless sun. They couldn’t travel too late into the night either, to steer clear of whatever dangers lurked about in the darkest folds of the night.

Her father beamed down at her. They were sweaty, covered with sand and grime from across the kingdom. People looked askance at them, as though they were beggars, but her father knew that his daughter would do him proud today. Today she was going to save the Sultana’s kingdom with what she had learned.

Rawer

Three hundred wives and concubines. His father had been the man he looked up to, and he had three hundred women who shared his bedchamber regularly. That was where Rawer’s sense of fidelity came from.

His father had only twelve chief wives, but he religiously made sure he slept with one different member of his three hundred women every night. It was his sacred duty, as he saw it.

Rawer had seen his step mothers and learned that a man has a right to women from every corner of the globe. He had step mothers who were made from Nubian soil, and whose skin glistened ebony like his own. He had step mothers who were Arab, with light brown skin, and raven hair, who resembled his own precious Mediha. He had step mothers who were from the far orient, with slits for eyes and porcelain skin which offered a stark contrast to his father’s skin. He had step mother’s who were Teutonic with golden hair and pale skin whose barbarian fathers and brothers had allied with the Kushite lord.

So Rawer understood that a man may love many women. He felt no discomfort in bedding Mediha one day and Tuya the next, and perhaps the princess Lubna another day. It was, after all, his sacred duty.  Even as his plans with the princess were solidified, he climbed onto Tuya again, as she slumbered, and awoke her by placing his gigantic member between her thighs.

Rawer was at full length, and his ebony balls slapped her thighs, as he crushed her nipples with his lips. Tuya gasped, and allowed herself to completely surrender to him. His fingers played with her hair, while his lips and tongue explored her caramel breasts, and his giant, black cock tore her nether region.

She smiled and allowed him to grind his thighs into hers. She suspected that she held enough comforts within her loins that Rawer wouldn’t miss the pesky Arabian bitch.