Disclaimer: This story may contain scenes of a graphical nature that may not be legal in your area. If you are under 18, or if material of this nature is illegal in your present location, please leave now. By reading on, you are confirming that it is legal for you to view the material in this story.
This story is a work of pure fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental, and no harm or slanderous intent is implied or intentional.
Unsafe sexual practices can be undertaken with impunity only in the world of fantasy. In reality, it is both your obligation and your right to play safely, sanely and healthily. I hope you enjoy my work, and if you have any comments, or ideas that may inspire new work, please feel free to contact me - all e-mails will be answered to the best of my ability.
End of Part 1
"I am an old hand at this. Not to worry." Achmed went over to the medicine cabinet and pulled out a black box. He opened it and removed a vile of tranquilizer drugs and a hypodermic needle. Filling the syringe he said, "this should keep him out for a few hours. He will be O.K. That will give you time to get him settled in his new home." He then administered the drug and the two men picked out a cheep rug and rolled Dexter up in it and then they carried him out and put him in the rear of the van.
Achmed laughed and said, "Just like Cleopatra. You now have a new queen."
*
Part 2
Sultan climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut. What a pig he thought. But then am I much better? I'm only one rung higher on the animal chain than Achmed. I purchase, sell and rent human flesh. So who am I to cast stones, as the Christians say?
What was Sultan's business? He was the owner and operator of the best brothel in the city (in fact, for those who graded such things, his establishment was in the top ten of the country). He ran his establishment like it was a palace. Hence, one of the two reasons people called him Sultan. A listing of its clientele would reveal some of the most respected names in the country. To get into his place of business cost a small fortune. And that was just the admittance fee, and then there were the additional costs for special services, etc.
He liked to present himself as an unimposing man. But it was deceptive. He was quite the opposite and therefore the second reason for his name.
Sultan The Magnificent, and he was just that. He was huge. When he walked into a room women could not take their eyes off him and the men, well they died of envy. He was Sudanese and black as coal. On his shaved his head at a jaunty angle he always wore a fez. At first look one was reminded of the primitive drawings children love to make. You know the kind - where the arms and legs look like Bologna and the rest of the body looks like one ball on top of the other. He reminded you of that lovable Michelin tire guy in the ad. However that was a first impression. When one got to know him, his body and face were attractive in a rough sort of way. His skin was always clean and shinny. His arms and legs were tree trunks. Strong and well muscled, as were his chest and abs. His ass was made up of two black marble globes. Being six foot three inches he was able to carry all this beautiful body meat and not appear fat. Hell there wasn't an ounce of fat on him. One did not have to look any further for the perfect man... Many said that he could be the 'black Mr. Universe' if his face was more handsome.
Despite this women loved him - men salivated over him. The reason for this adoration it was the size of the cock and balls that hung between his powerful thighs. It was said to be at least nine inches soft, one and a half to two inches in diameter and black. Not brown as most black men's penis' were, but black. Clients loved to see that black baseball bat plunge into a white ass.
On those rare occasions when he would participate in the Saturday night Orgy on stage at his establishment the audience would be treated to a performance that they would never forgot. He was able to fuck like a piston. With his back straight as a board he was able to move his ass and cock forward and backward like it was a cannon firing off a round. They appeared to be separate from the other parts of his body. Plunging deep and rapid, his hips were a blur while the rest of his body was board stiff. It was something to behold. He was envied and hated. Perhaps it was because he was black and therefore an outsider. For all its boasts of Moslem equality, in reality it did not exist. It was still remembered that it was the Arabs that ran the slave trade for the most part. And they were still dealing in black flesh well into the late 1990s. Even today in some remote areas, one could still buy a black slave. It was true that today most of them were not Moslem but Christian blacks.
The ringing of his cell phone interrupted his thoughts. Damn things! If they weren't so helpful to the business I would smash the Devil's invention, he thought as he pulled to the side of the road and answered the contraption. No now was not the time to get stopped by the cops, for driving and using the phone, no with that cargo he was transporting in the rear of the van.
"Yes, Sultan here." he bellowed into the phone, "I am on my way back now. I will be there in about three or four minutes. I will need someone to help me with my latest purchase. Have Yussef waiting by the service entrance." He closed the cell and after checking on the rolled up rug in the rear and seeing that all was well he pulled out onto the roadway and continued towards home.
A few minutes later he pulled up to a set of heavy iron gates that opened at a signal from inside the small guardhouse and then closed as soon as the van was inside the compound. No one got in or went out without permission. Security was tight and was needed. Neither Sultan nor any of the local law enforcement people wanted any problems or incidents. He and his community had reached an accord with the local and state politicians. As long as the area was quiet both parties ignored the other and turned their backs on almost anything. Well it was not exactly a secret but most of the top town and state officials were frequent guests of 'The Magnificent One' and it would be very uncomfortable for both them and Sultan if their relaxation were disturbed. As an added edge Sultan had also been able to, shall we say, amass photographic documents and files on all his guests. Files that if they were made public, could ruin a man's life.
Sultan's establishment was now made up of mainly male prostitutes. While he did start out with female whores, he had early in his ownership learned that they were more trouble than they were worth. Females could work only two to two and a half weeks a month. Add to that the chance that the chance that they could become pregnant which would necessitate an abortion with its medical bills and lost time and you could see money going out the window. Most of the females were pigs and lazy and they were of little or no use in keeping the place clean. If it was one thing that his clients insisted on - it was clean beds and a clean atmosphere. Then there were the other choirs that had to be done, cooking and keeping the "palace" grounds in shape. As far as cooking - the males did a much better job, one or two of them had been professional cooks before they found that they could make more money selling their asses. Besides they were available for sex almost 24 hours a day seven days a week and when business was slow, the men would help out in any and all aspects of running the establishment from repair of the house to care of the grounds. The only reason he kept the few women he now had was for the sake of those customers who were not able to admit that they found men more to their taste or for the few customers that still liked to see a belly dancer perform.
~~~~~~
Most of his patrons freely admitted that if they wanted to just fuck, they would stay at home and use their wives. Sultan's clients were looking for more erotic pleasures. Men and especially male prostitutes knew what a man wanted and how to give it to him. No woman, not even the most professional whore could give a man a great blowjob like one of Sultan's men and as far as fucking well they proved that a hole is not just a hole. The Magnificent One's men could do things with their backsides that no female pussy or ass could ever do.
As he pulled up to the service entrance at the rear of the house he could see that Yussef was waiting for him. He got out of the van and the two of them opened the rear doors.
"What have you got here boss?" he asked in Arabic. "A rug for one of the rooms."
"Careful I don't want to drop the package. It has been banged up enough as it is." Sultan said as he winked. "Just don't ask questions. Help me get it on my shoulder so I can get it up to my rooms."
