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A Gift for the Sultan
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Subject: a roleplaying scene: "A gift for the Sultan"
"Sandro and Rita are back from Tunisia", Laylah told me, "and they
say they have surprises and gifts for us". "Oh good!", I answered.
Not for the gifts, you understand - although at times they make
GREAT ones (e.g. the high-precision German-made crop which is our
single most beloved toy) - but rather because they are our best
friends. Very special ones, really.
Sandro is an old-time friend of mine; a few years older than me,
an insurance manager, with some peculiar hobbies - history and
games, most of all (he was two years running the Italian champion
of miniature wargaming) - but also crafts (not only painting his
soldiers, but also leather working), motorbikes (he used to have
an Harley-Davidson), and others.
Rita studies for a degree in History; she's a bit younger than
Laylah. They met during a trip to India and Nepal, and became
friends immediately. Laylah, as you may have gathered, is not
exactly shy, towards people she considers her friends, about her
preferences and lifestyle; before their trip was over, Rita and
Laylah were roving through the shops of Katmandu together, looking
for a special whip. Not that Rita *shared* Laylah's passion for
BDSM, mind you, but neither was she put off by it at all - Laylah's
enthusiasm can be rather catching, at least in a vicarious way.
Sandro and Rita were then both unattached, so, when we invited each
of them to take part in a roleplaying campaign I was starting, I'll
admit we DID wonder a bit if they might like each other, and then,
who knows... but then we laughed at ourselves - we definitely aren't
the "matchmaker" types!
Well, it seems my roleplaying setups (although R-rated - I mean,
our KIDS were players in that campaign too!) DO induce peculiar
emotional closeness, or something... less than three months after
we had begun meeting for the RPG, we found Sandro and Rita in each
others' arms, smooching, in our living room, and they announced
their engagement.
We're told that ten days after that she was naked and chained and
writhing under his whip - the first BDSM experience for both of
them, although it had always been in Sandro's fantasy, and Rita
had been wondering A LOT about trying it since meeting Laylah...
six months after that, they were married.
Our kids LOVE them - Sandro writes games in Basic which Lucio runs
on his PC, Rita is wonderful at PC games and teaches tricks to our
kids, and we all enjoy a good game together regularly.
More recently, us adults have tentatively begun playing another
sort of games, without the kids around, just the four of us...
they've both been in love with Laylah for quite some time (she IS
the kind of person which elicits love at first sight!), though it's
taken them longer to reach a similar state about me (it figures:-).
It seems that our "surprises and gifts" had something to do with
the latter kind of games, and also "with roleplaying - we'll never
repay our debt to you on that score, but we can TRY!", to quote
Sandro's words. Oh, and with their Tunisian trip, of course. So
we arranged to meet at our house on Sunday - exactly a week ago
today. We spent all afternoon playing, all six together ("Talisman";
I won with my Sprite in a whirl of spells). Then a pizza at "Il
Sellaio", an excellent pizzeria 100m from our home (the shop is
tastefully decorated with saddles, whips, harnesses, and such, but
that's just the sort of meaningless coincidences that DO happen...),
and finally Laylah drove the kids to her parents' house for the
night, and Rita accompanied them.
While she was out, I asked Sandro about some more details on what
we would be doing. "It will come better as a surprise", he said.
"Meanwhile, do you have any recorded Arabian music?". I looked
all through my and Laylah's collection, but the "closest" I could
come to that was Indian ragas... i.e., not very! "They'll do",
Sandro proclaimed, "we'll just set in in the Mogul era". "WHAT
shall we set, Sandro?"
"OK, I can tell you now, Laylah will be back any time now anyway.
You'll have to act extempore, so start getting into the part. You
are a young, impetuous Sultan just back from the wars; I'm your
crafty vizier". Well HE wouldn't have a hard time acting - he IS
the craftiest schemer I know - luckily the most "simpatico" one
too. "And Rita is the 'head girl' of your harem of slaves - not
to be confused with your wives, which I've all chosen for you for
strictly political reasons, which you detest, and which play no
part in this prodution".
"Wait a sec - when did you find time to rehearse all this with
Laylah? SHE sure can't act extempore - and WHAT role does she
play?" He smiled - craftily indeed - and answered, "Told you there
would be a special gift for you, right? As for the first question,
well, THIS time she'll have to improvise!" The front door opened,
and Sandro darted out of the living room to meet our wives, motioning
me to stay put.
I put the ragas on and started getting into the part. There wasn't
really much I could do by way of props - I could hear preparations
going on in the bedroom, so I could guess I wasn't wanted there
right now. I put together a makeshift turban out of bandages, and
took the sword - unfortunately a straight-bladed one! - down from
the wall, and wore it at my side. Then I sank into my favourite
easy chair and let the ragas wash over me. Get inside me. And I
started recalling the fighting I had recently been in - the pain,
the tiredness, the glory, the blood, the rage, the stench...
----------------------------
Xander, my vizier, entered the room, decked in a black velvet robe
with a silk sash, and bowed to me. "My Lord", he greeted me, "I
have a gift for you today - a pearl of rare beauty. May I have
her introduced?" "What's that, vizier, a new slave? A new one of
your spies on me? Don't I have enough of them already?"
"Oh no Lord, not THIS one... that is, I mean, never would I dare...
just the prettiest prize from your recent wars, which I picked
personally from the prisoners' pen and prepared for your pleasure..."
"Oh stop the alliterations already - you do know my tastes, vizier,
and I'm sure you have chosen well. Let her in."
Into the room walked a breathtaking beauty. Her dark-golden hair
fell from her bowed head, hiding her face. She was barefoot. She
wore a luxurious slave robe in bright blue silk, embroided in gold;
her wrists were chained behind her back. Rita, the head slave,
was leading her; she wore a similar robe, in black silk and with
pale silver embroidery, and held a crop in her right hand, while
the left one pushed the blonde beauty forwards. Rita was walking
half a step back from the new one; her long jet-black curls did
not particular stand out against her black robe. By sharp contrast,
the shiny blue of the other one's robe did enhance her pale skin
and blonde hair. My attention was riveted on her.
My vizier walked up to my new slave and, grasping her hair, forced
her to pull up and show her face, although her eyes remained
downwards; her features were a match for her statuesque body. Then
he began to display to me her manifold beauties, turning her this
way and that and moving the folds of her robe to bare, in turn,
each of the various parts he was praising. He called her Pearl,
a nicely appropriate name; coined by himself on purpose, I should
guess.
At one point the shame overwhelmed the new slave - clearly not yet
very used to her new situation - and her bound hands, lightly held
out of the way by Xander, shot down to cover her alluring arsehole
just as he was displaying it to me. A couple of sapient strokes
from Rita's crop remedied that very fast, and I heard Pearl's voice
for the first time, in a sharp cry. Still, she must not be the
rebellious type; I deduced this by noticing that her body was almost
unmarked by the whip. Well, that latter point I could remedy very
soon.
The vizier, having finished his able salespitch, was clearly
expecting me to show some gratitude. To be honest, my loins were
aching for that woman: I hadn't taken any woman with me to the
wars, so that it had been a while since I had partaken of feminine
charms; and, that one was really outstanding in any case. But I
wasn't about to give him satisfaction so easily; withholding any
praise, I just asked him, "Good, but, can she dance?".
Xander, clearly not expecting the question, was taken aback for a
second (ah, what a rare delight!), and to everybody's surprise it
was Pearl who proffered, "I'm not really trained, my Lord, particularly
in the dances of your country...". Speaking without having been
addressed - no, she CLEARLY had not been trained in our ways!
"WELL!!!", I roared in rage at my vizier, "so your gift is an
untrained slave who can't even hold her tongue in my presence -
why, her dress must be worth at least twice what SHE is! Come,
take it off from her, she'll pay the price of her insolence".
Xander snapped his fingers, and Rita immediately proceeded to remove
the blue robe from Pearl, while he was mollifying me with his
always-silky voice asking whether I wanted to inflict the punishment
myself. "Most assuredly not!", I rebuked him, "I see no reason to
tire myself to no purpose; surely Rita knows how to discipline
errant harem slaves... no, wait: YOU punish her, since it's YOUR
gift to me!" I was trying to take him down a peg or two, by having
him perform such a menial task as whipping a slave, but, apparently,
he didn't mind at all. Indeed he looked positively eager, as he
took his whip and ordered Rita to hold Pearl for him. Rita,
efficient as always, had unfastened the new slave's wrists to remove
her clothing, and then fastened them again, but this time in front,
so her back and buttocks could be properly offered to the punishment.
The vizier started whipping Pearl, with a slowish but steady rhythm,
his strokes starting rather light, and slowly building up. Pearl
writhed and squirmed, clearly in real pain but at the same time in
a definite state of arousal, and very quiet moans started coming
from her throat. There was something hypnotic in those rhythms;
THAT was a real dance! The ache in my loins intensified...
Her moans growing louder and throatier, Pearl arched her body,
stiffly, offering it to the strokes; then, suddenly, limp and now
silent, she collapsed in Rita's arms, which were by now rather
holding her up than restraining her. Xander was still hitting the
slave's body, but, it seemed to me, more softly now.
"You call this PUNISHMENT?!", I exclaimed as I rose up, feigning
rage to hide my mounting excitement... I grabbed the whip from the
vizier's hand, to give Pearl a taste of a REAL whipping - I hit
her just a few times, but with the same strength my arm would use
to wield my saber against a foe; I was rewarded with an ear-splitting
scream each time. I couldn't fail to notice, however, that the
slave, each time, was trying to tense her body TOWARDS my punishing
whip, rather than away from it... a REALLY rare and precious threat,
that slave; she would be a most worthy addition to my harem, no
doubt. The vizier, once again, may he be damned!, had undoubtedly
been right.
I knew he knew, by now, but still I wasn't about to give him the
satisfaction of admitting that. Gruffly I threw the whip to the
ground and resumed my place on the throne, and I ordered, "Rita -
secure that wretch someplace she can get a good look, and show her,
and us, how a proper slave dance is done". Pearl's chains were
affixed to a piece of furniture near a wall, and Rita stood in the
middle of the floor and proceeded to perform a simple but perfect
belly-dance. I noticed that the new slave had her eyes riveted on
Rita, studying her every sensual move, her breath ragged... but,
huddling on a rug on the floor, she was also shivering with the
cold. Much as I would have liked to keep feasting my eyes on her
luscious whip-decorated curves, I decided that this had better not
go on much longer.
"Very good, Rita", I commented, "as usual; now go dress Pearl again,
and take her to the kitchen and teach her how to serve drinks.
What will you have, vizier - tea, coffee, maybe some fruit?" "Some
orange juice, thank you, my Sultan", he answered as he sat on his
chair on the dais at my left. "Orange juice for me too, then.
Make sure it's freshly pressed, of course, and from ripe blood-red
oranges, or we'll see some *other* blood-red colour around here".
I didn't really need to tell Rita that, of course - she's an expert
at serving and knows my tastes well.
As the slaves went to obey my orders, I saw Xander looking at me
without expression. But he surely knew very well what was going
on inside me, and I couldn't keep my mask up much longer. Besides,
I don't know where my realm would be without his stewardship and
diplomacy; no matter that he gives me the creeps sometimes, I had
better keep that crafty schemer on my side... "Well, Xander, I
have to admit your gift is, really, exceptionally good!"
"Just an untrained slave, your Highness..."; there was no mocking
in his voice, just barely-unctuous self-deprecation. "Training
can always be arranged", I replied, "but that girl is, well, a
natural! No, really, I AM thankful for the gift, although I may
not have shown it; I'm going to make up for that. How would you
like one more fief, vizier? Or a boatload of gold?"
"I need no material gifts, your Highness; your generosity has
already seen to that. But, if I may dare ask..."
"Why of course you may ASK, vizier, although I reserve the right
to deny your petition... so what is it I can do for you that's not
`a material gift' - some further office, some high-sounding title...?"
"Uh, not really that, Lord. It's, rather, that, well, you know,
Rita, your head slave...", he half-stammered. A bit surprised to
hear such a tone of uncertainty from Xander, I prompted him, "Yes,
well, what about her?" "Uhm, my Sultan, if I may dare - you don't
really care for her in particular, do you?" "Well, she's an
excellent head-slave", I replied, "and has always served me well,
but, yes, it's not as if she's indispensable to me or something -
why?"
"Because, uhm, I do feel, well, something particular about her.
If your Highness were so kind as to make me a gift of her..." My
vizier in love! Was that ever possible? Apparently, it was. I
looked at him with a newfound respect - so he WAS human, after all,
and not just some scheming demon as I had half-believed at times...
"Why of COURSE!", I heartily replied, and, in a gesture I wouldn't
have dreamed of making a few moments before, I slapped his back.
What man hasn't felt the pangs, if not of love as the poets paint
it, at least of unsated lust? And, while it's generally luckier
when such fancy strikes you towards a slave, rather than some
haughty Lady, it isn't necessarily so if the slave belongs to
somebody more powerful than you; so I could well understand Xander's
nervousness. So that's why he had gone to all the trouble of
finding me a new and peculiarly alluring slave - I HAD wondered
about his motives! - it had been to attract my attention and passion
towards some object other than Rita. Well, he needn't have worried -
I already have several slaves better than her, although she IS
good; the reason I had chosen her to head my harem was her ability
to keep the discipline of other slaves, and train new ones, rather
than any particular fancy on my part towards her person. So I
continued, in an excellent mood:
"She's yours, from this very moment. Of course I'll ask you to let
her keep her head-girl job for awhile, part-time, until I've chosen
or purchased a good substitute, but you can work your will on her
any time. Ah, the drinks are coming, let's drink a toast to your
gift, and to mine!"
As Rita and Pearl entered the room again, clad in their embroidered
silken robes, I noticed that the one carrying the heavy tray with
the pitcher and glasses was the dark-haired head slave, not the
new blond-haired beauty. I frowned; I had said that the *latter*
was to serve me! Rita probably hadn't trusted her to carry that
burden all the way from the kitchen. Now she handed the tray to
Pearl, signaling her with a motion of her head to come to the dais
and serve us.
Once in front of us, she got down in a half-kneeling posture,
proffering her tray towards Xander. My frown got deeper - didn't
she KNOW I was the more important personnage, and thus to be served
first?! Xander reminded her sharply, "To the Sultan first!". Then
she committed a worse mistake: hurrying to offer me my drink first,
she assumed the HALF-kneeling posture again, with her left leg bent
with the knee on the ground at my feet, but her right one resting
on the foot instead and with the knee brazenly upwards. Who did she
think she was, one of my KNIGHTS or something!!?
I didn't take anything from the tray she was offering. Rather, I
ordered her to lay the tray on the low table that was between my
throne and the vizier's chair; that orange juice looked appetizingly
cool and tasty, and I was thirsty, so I didn't want it to spill on
the floor! As soon as the tray was safe, and Pearl was back in her
unrespectful half-kneeling posture in front of me, I struck her
face, hard, deliberately, once, twice, and again, with my onyx
signet ring bruising her features each time. Xander spoke again,
informing her of the lack of respect she had unwittingly shown, and
how all slaves and servants were to kneel fully, with both knees on
the ground, in front of the Sultan. Weeping desperately, she threw
herself at my feet, kissing them, sobbing, begging forgiveness.
"For this once, you will be forgiven: it's your luck that there
were no witnesses to this. But some other time you might make such
a mistake, say, in the presence of some foreign dignitary; and in
this case..." I unsheathed my sword, grabbed her hair with my left
hand, and pulled her face up from my feet, wet by now with her
tears and with her kisses. I showed her the blade's menacing edge,
and touched her neck, lightly, with it. From the terror in her
eyes, and the stiffening of all muscles in her body, I knew she
wouldn't make that particular mistake ever again.
But it wasn't Pearl's fault, actually; she was clearly ignorant of
proper protocol. Rita had received very explicit orders to teach
her enough to serve us properly, and she had not performed this
simple task acceptably; punishment was clearly in order for her.
I looked at Xander. "Vizier, your new slave has clearly failed in
her duty of teaching mine. Will you please teach her a lesson?".
This time, there was no question of the beating of a slave being
too menial a task for a vizier; rather, Xander's eyes were already
burning with openly displayed lust for his new prize, and, if it
would clearly be unappropriate for him to take her then and there,
a whipping would instead be a quite acceptable substitute way for
him to show his new-won possession of her. The chains that had
bound Pearl were put on Rita's wrists and ankles, binding her to
a heavy wooden chair, bending over the chair's back. Her black
robe was folded out of the way to reveal the ample graces of her
buttocks and thighs; and Xander set to work, choosing, instead of
the whip, a straight bamboo cane, deceptively light.
This time he didn't strike as sweetly as he had done earlier with
Pearl, nor did he choose to build up gradually: he was, instead,
rather hard from the start. I had Pearl sitting on a rug at my
feet, her face lying on my knees, her blonde curls spread on my
thighs, as I stroked them slowly; her eyes were fixed on Rita's
severe punishment, as were mine. At the end, as Rita was sobbing
and pleading for mercy, the vizier stopped; but it was to ask me the
favour of finishing her punishment myself, as a mark of honour for
him. I acceded, but I wasn't harsh with her already heavily marked
flesh; I struck lightly. I was reasoning that Rita might well be
feeling the passage from my ownership to that of a lesser Lord as a
punishment in itself, and one she had done nothing to deserve; so I
felt a measure of pity for her. Besides...
I stopped. "My new slave's training is far from over", I said, "and
I would like Rita to keep performing it. I would thus like to give
Rita full authority on Pearl, to teach her and train her properly; I
am sure that after this treatment she won't risk omitting any detail
in her instruction. So, if you don't mind, Xander", I added
resorting to first-name for my vizier, as I did very rarely, "I
think Rita should now have a chance to reaffirm her authority on
Pearl, since it was Pearl's error after all that got Rita punished
so severely".
So Pearl was chained again, this time in place of Rita on the chair,
and again naked, while Rita rearranged her robe; and the cane got
into Rita's hand, and Pearl's buttocks felt her power and anger...
----------------------------
Well, it WAS a nice piece of roleplaying, particularly as it was
done with real whips and canes and strokes and screams... we broke
it off here, and started hugging each other and laughing and telling
each other how great it had all been. I admit I have glossed off
a few out-of-place details, such as my makeshift turban getting
undone at one point - those little "bugs" that make roleplaying
need good humour. But we had all been very much "in character"
all through it, our roles had meshed nicely into even a semblance
of a storyline although all details had to be improvised as we
went, and the silken slave robes, as well as Sandro's velvet one,
were *really* beautiful - what Sandro and Rita had bought in Tunisia,
and what had given them the specific idea for this scene. Although
I would hope my very plain clothing did not detract all that much
from my own role... Oh, "Pearl" had been Laylah, of course, just
in case you hadn't caught on. And, yes, Rita has studied dancing
as a girl, so she can really perform a VERY convincing bellydance.
It will be rather hard to get back to painted miniatures and dice
and scenarios and rulebooks for our next bout of roleplaying...:-)
--
Alex Martelli - [email protected] - +39 (51) 250434 - Bologna, Italia
DON'T worry about rutgers' ***"Waiting mail"*** warnings, your mail WILL
get here UNLESS you get a ***"Failed mail"*** message from them!!!
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