Punishment: a Sultan's Slave Tale

The desert night is clear and cold; across the campsite the fire flickers low.

The soldiers are sleeping; their soft snores rise like smoke into the sky. At the camp’s edge the horses shuffle and stamp. Only the Sultan’s guard remain vigilant; massive and wordless, they stand either side of his tent like

djinn.

They watch me as I push the door-hanging back. They’re not permitted to touch, but there’s an intensity to their look… Imperiously, I ignore them and duck into the tent.

My jewellery sparkles as I let the hanging fall.

Sheltered from the empty vastness of the desert night, the air is spicy, welcoming. Layers of rugs shield cushions and drapes from the sand; the brazier is a comforting touch of warmth. A deep swath of colour blossoms from the central tent-pole – the Sultan’s silken hangings have made his travelling home as lush as the Kasbah itself.

He is not here.

The tent is lavish; the air heavy with musk. The scent is as warm as his skin. As always, I’m ready for him; the thought of his touch thrills in my throat. Knowing no-one would dare spy upon me, not here, I run my hands across my bare belly, over my breasts. Anticipating his presence, I am breathing more quickly.

He likes to watch me; to watch the subtle expressions of pleasure cross my face, to watch my hands and fingers as I part my own thighs and caress myself to openness.

The cushions are deep and inviting; beside them a filled

hookah

and brass bowl of warmed oil. I know he will not be long – the guards would not admit me otherwise – and I loosen the lacings that close the front of my brief, silk top. Shrugging it from my shoulders to a bright puddle on the rug, I raise my hands to my bared breasts.

My hands are chill from the night air – my skin shivers, pleasure shocking through me. Raising my fingertips to my mouth, I run my tongue and lips over them before stroking and pinching my nipples to hardness. I find myself gasping. A rush of warmth flowers in my belly.

Perhaps he is watching me, even now.

The thought is exciting. Kicking off my sandals, I tumble backwards to the cushions’ embrace, my long hair splashing out behind me. Almost involuntarily, my hands are sliding down my belly towards my twitching, eager hips. In the light of the brazier, the jewel in my navel glitters - but my hands stroke past it to pull aside the soft fabric of my skirts.

I am naked beneath, shaven and oiled; my lips are half-parted and they feel smooth and good. Softly, so softly – I must wait for him. My other hand pushes my hair from my face and I imagine he’s watching.

That’s it

, he says,

my beautiful slut

…

It feels so good. I close my eyes, let out a long breath as I arch my back and my fingers begin to explore deeper. My cunt opens, getting wetter. Gods I love doing this; I raise my fingertips to my mouth, then with a long, sweet sigh, I begin to slowly fuck myself.

I imagine I can feel his eyes on me, exploring me. My other hand caresses my breasts, showing off their softness. My nipples are hard, demanding; I roll one between thumb and forefinger and my body thrills a response.

Yes!

I hear his voice.

Show me…

I sit up to dip my fingertips in the warm, scented oil. My lips are open now, moist with impatience; I lay back, part them further and run one gentle finger over my clit.

I want his mouth, his hands. I want him to fuck me, teasingly. I caress myself in the same way, wanting more – I feel the warmth in me spread, the pleasure and anticipation build. Oh my

Gods

, this is good…

A little more oil.

I

want

--

There’s a hand on my thigh, sliding upwards. Another is closed over my mouth, silencing me. They’re chilled, callused and strong.

Very

strong...

Eyes afire, one of the Sultan’s guards is standing over me. As I glare at him, struggle to rise to my elbows, the hand on my thigh tears my skirt from my body. The guard looks down at me, his expression a thousand layers of pleasure.

Behind him, his colleague stands on the inside of the doorway. He’s looking at my spread thighs and hot cunt. His expression’s anticipatory; he’s going to savour this… and then he’s going to take his turn.

A noise outside makes him glance sharply at the door-hanging. It billows, subsides – just the desert wind.

Scrabbling for dignity, I slap the hand from my mouth and sit up, folding my legs modestly under me. I pick up a cushion to cover myself.

‘What in the name of

Heaven

do you think you’re doing?’ I’m impressed my voice remains steady, even fierce. ‘My Lord will have your—‘

The guard places a hand across my throat – hard enough to push me to the cushions. ‘My Lord,’ his voice is husky, ‘gave us his

Blessing

’. He leans over me, his other hand roughly caressing my shoulder. He cannot take his eyes from me; oddly, I realise he’s shaking. ‘You’re ours ‘til he gets back – so long as we don’t hurt you’.

What..?

The second guard smiles mirthlessly at me, at my inane attempt to cover myself. ‘He’s not coming for you.’ His eyes come to rest on my mouth. ‘But we will.’

‘This is madness.’ Realising I’m cowering like some innocent virgin, I discard the cushion indignantly and stand up, my hands on my hips. ‘You’ll be less than men if you’re caught in here!’

‘Watch the door, Az.’ The guard before me is grinning like a scimitar – whetted, sharp. ‘I’m Imayho, lady. Saved my Lord’s life, fighting raiders, couple of days ago. Asked me what I wanted…’ He surveys my jewelled nakedness, head to foot. ‘…I said you.’

His eyes rest on mine.

The tale is true – I’d been hearing it round the campsite. Imayho is young, powerful, a ranking member of the Sultan’s élite. He’s bare-chested but for the small, gold pendant that marks his trusted position. I find I believe him; meeting his warrior’s stare, I also find him exciting.

My body still thrums with heat and anticipation. ‘Imayho.’ I like the feel of his name.

Smiling wickedly, I raise one hand as if to touch his mouth – and let him catch the scent of my arousal on my fingers. He draws in his breath. Watching him, I raise those fingers to my mouth and suck them, then let myself fall backwards into my scatter of cushions. I part my thighs, return to caressing the length of my pussy, from my tight, oiled arse to the swollen need of my clit.

In the light of the brazier, my bare skin glistens.

‘Name of the Gods..!’ Abandoning door duty, Az is staring, jaw forgotten.

‘I

said

, ‘Watch the door’.’

Imayho kneels for me, runs one steel-wire hand up each of my thighs, pausing to push them further apart. Looking down at my exposed cunt, he breathes in - incense, skin, oil, excitement – then replaces my fingers with his long, warm tongue.

A low gasp escapes me.

The touch is savouring. I’m tilting my hips, asking him silently for more; he parts my lips with his thumbs and takes another long taste.

‘You’re beautiful.’ Already, his mouth is wet. ‘And you’re going to come for me. Then, I’m going to fuck this glorious cunt while it’s as tight as your perfect arse.’ One finger tempts me, sliding back and forth along the length of my lips; he leans forward to taste me once more.

I am shivering now; shivering with sensation, expectation, pleasure. While his insistent, responsive tongue softly caresses my clit, he slides one finger, two, into my body – deep and very strong. He begins to thrust with that same, slow rhythm.

It’s gorgeous – and it’s maddening. After only a moment, I find myself sighing aloud, my feet tangling under cushions as I struggle for self-control. His rhythm doesn’t change. He feels my reaction, enjoys it, revels in it, but he takes his time – slowly, slowly. He’s loving how crazy he’s making me; I want more of him, I want to thrust up to meet him, I want my clit in his mouth, his fingers so much harder… I rest a hand on the back of his head but he’s too strong for me. He raises his gaze and laughs.

‘Impatient?’

I can’t speak; if I open my mouth I’ll be asking him for more –

more!

– and I won’t give that satisfaction. Not yet. He smiles, his tongue relishing the taste of me on his lips. The sight gives me a sudden, fierce rush of need.

His laughter deepens; he leans forward – closes his lips over my clit. I cannot help but cry out; my hips twitch and flex. He pulls away once more and returns to his steady, gentle, infuriating rhythm.

Oh Gods…

Unknowing, I’m surrendering, totally attuned; I’m losing myself in his expert cadence. That easy caress of his tongue on my throbbing-hot clit, the agility and strength of his fingers as they reach pleasures that bring cries from my lips – soft at first, then building louder… My hips are meeting him, now, thrust for thrust; I feel a third finger enter me and I’m telling him how good it is – oh

Gods

yes, I want more!

‘Yes… you like that…’

Now, at last, he begins to fuck me harder, his fingers twisting into me and out again. He’s driving them into me forcibly. My hands knot in the decadence about me, my body arches, writhes, fucks his fingers in return. I am tightening round him, I can feel it; I can feel every movement and flickering of his hand.

‘Imayho! Oh, my Gods!’

Faintly, I’m aware that Az is standing closer, now. He’s kicked off his flat leather boots and unwrapped his sash. As he drops his blade to the rug and unlaces the fastening of his silk trousers, I can see how hard he is, bulging rigid against the fabric.

The thought of having that cock in my mouth only makes me hotter.

Imayho’s tongue begins to flicker across my clit, more urgent now – a demanding, not a coaxing. I’ve lost any awareness of what I’m saying – I only know that I’m begging him not to stop, not to stop

please

– and I’m thrusting back against his strength. When a curious, oiled fingertip teases around the edges of my arse, I stop stock-still, taut and trembling at the promise.

Laughing again, he doesn’t stop.

Naked and erect, Az is kneeling beside me, his hard cock in his hand. His dark skin is gleaming in the brazier-light; he’s stroking himself with oil.

Imayho’s tongue flickers harder, his fingers thrust faster. My hips are raised almost off the cushions; I feel those warm, wonderful waves start to wash through me and I’m crying out, oh, Gods, oh, Gods, oh…

The finger that’s teasing me, oiling me, coaxing me to readiness… the finger that’s caressing my tight arse…. as I come, he enters me there, too. It’s a white-hot shock, an incredible intensity, I’m shivering, shuddering in climax; my Gods, I had no idea it could feel this good!

One final, drawn-out cry and I collapse, subsiding against the cushions in relief and wonder. Both guards are grinning – watching me with avid, hungry expressions.

My muscles are shaky; they refuse to do as they’re told. Denying myself the languid sweetness that should follow such an incredible climax, I struggle to focus.

They give me no time to recover. Az slides his body down next to mine; he pushes my shoulder to make me lie with my back to him. As he does so, Imayho unfolds to his feet and, with a warrior’s grace, sheds his garments, one by one.

His cock is eager; it’s hard and very broad. The sight causes a flicker of arousal, an instinctive reaction. He stands over me, stroking himself with his face wet in the brazier-light and his expression faintly smug.

You’re ours ‘til he gets back…

Az grips my hip, stops me moving. I feel the head of his cock nestling between my cheeks just as Imayho comes to lay in front of me.

…so long as we don’t hurt you.

He raises my uppermost leg, spreads my thighs to take a satisfied look at my well-fingered cunt. ‘You want me?’

I bite back an acerbic response, instead reaching to part my cheeks further – to tempt Az with the view, Imayho with my expression. ‘I want it all.’ My voice is as deep as his. ‘Now.’

Behind me, I feel the head of a hard, hot cock rubbed between my cheeks with an appreciative grunt. It’s slippery, tempting and teasing. I can feel the rise of pleasure in Az; feel it in myself.

Before me, Imayho slides his body closer. For a moment, the hot rush of expectancy breaks over and through me – it’s been a very long time since I was fucked like this and I’m remembering what an incredible sensation it is. When I find the words,

‘Fuck

me,’ I absolutely mean them.

They do.

My swollen cunt is virgin-tight after my climax – I can feel every inch of Imayho’s hard, wide cock as he pushes into me, murmuring his own pleasure. That alone is enough to have me crying aloud.

But the other exquisite sensation, that nerve-thrilling feeling of a hard, oiled cock sliding up my arse… My cries echo almost to screaming-pitch. For a moment, the lightning-strike intensity of this double penetration is too much to bear.

Somewhere in the eye of the sensation-storm, I remember who I am. The pleasures are incredible - both guards inside me, pushing gently forwards – but I ride the tidal wave and begin to move my hips.

Imayho gasps as my cunt engulfs him, then again as I pull back – taking Az deeper as I do so. I hear his guttural cry of surprise and it’s my turn to chuckle.

Let me show them what I can--

‘That’s it.’ The voice is chill with anger – but unmistakeable. ‘My beautiful slut.’

In the cold silence of absolute disbelief, no-one breathes.

An endless moment of frozen horror, then I raise my head to look over Imayho’s shoulder. I know what I’ll see, but some part of my mind is madly telling me that I must be dreaming – I

must

be--

My Lord, my Master, my Sultan. At his side, a wide-eyed Maia.

I am bereft of speech. Inanely, I’m struggling to explain, but I have no words to do so.

They had your permission, didn’t they?

Didn’t

they..?

Maia catches my eye; her incredulous expression forms a question. I flick an eyebrow back at her, telling her I have no idea. Unseen by the Sultan, she shakes her head – she doesn’t know what’ll happen.

‘Get up’. The Sultan paces evenly across the tent until he stands at the side of the cushion-pile. His rigidly-disciplined anger is palpable; it comes off him in waves. ‘Maia, the Captain of the Guard.’

‘Yes, Lord.’ She ducks back out into the night.

‘Imayho. Azram.’

Both guards stand unbending, feet apart, hands behind their backs. They stare straight ahead.

‘My Lord Sultan’.

‘Touching something of mine, without my permission, is unwise.’ He walks back and forth; his voice is measured and tightly controlled. ‘Touching a woman, of mine, without my permission, is extremely unwise.’ He’s furious; both guards are trembling. ‘Touching an unwilling woman, of mine, without my permission, is nothing short of

suicidal!

’

Az clenches his jaw. Imayho’s stance falters and he stares at his Lord in disbelief. ‘You…?’

‘SILENCE!’

I hear myself speak. ‘They had your Blessing, my Lord’.

His gaze snaps to me and I flinch at the potency of those dark eyes. I see towering anger – I have never seen him so livid – but I see pain, disappointment, betrayal. The Sultan’s personal guard are more than his trusted élite; their ranking warriors are his friends.

Under those eyes I falter, struggle to find my voice. ‘Imayho saved your life, my Lord. You granted him a wish’.

He looks me over. ‘You were willing?’

Answering ‘yes’ will bring my Lord’s wrath upon me; answering ‘no’ will secure the fate of these two guards. I choose the truth, ‘I was willing’.

He closes his eyes against a wash of feeling. Then he turns from me.

‘Imayho?’

‘For saving your life, my Lord. This is the wish you granted.’

‘Do you lie to me, now?’

‘No, Lord…’

‘My Lord,’ Maia ducks into the tent. ‘The Captain awaits you and new guards have been posted. Raiders have been seen, Lord, but they’re not heading this way.’

‘My Lord Sultan,’ Imayho stands stock-still, but his voice pleads for understanding. ‘The lady with you - Maia. She gave me the message – had your seal on it.’

Maia laughs, ‘Don’t be ridiculous; why would I--?’

‘Do you have this message?’

‘Yes, Lord.’

‘Gather your garments, report to your Captain. He will hold you under charge until I find the liar. Maia – you too.’

‘My Lord… I’ve done noth—!‘ His look is enough to silence her; she catches my eye for a moment, and is gone.

Not watching the guards’ departure, he turns back to me.

I stand as he walks around me, naked but for the gifts he’s given me, my pussy hungry and wet. I can still feel the physical intensity of having both guards fuck me, front and back; there’s a sense of

need

between my thighs, a craving that’s all-consuming.

He stops behind me, runs one hand over my arse in a gesture that seems thoughtful. I jump as his hand comes down on me – but the contact is sharp and brief. I say nothing.

‘I’m waiting,’ he says.

Although he’s behind me, I raise my chin. ‘I’m not the liar, my Lord; I’ve done nothing wrong’.

His breath hisses between his teeth. Without warning, he knots a hand in my hair and marches me towards the central tent-pole. One wrist, both – I find myself chained like a captured raider, my arms over my head and my face against the roughness of the wood.

Over my shoulder, I can see him. He’s taken a step back to look at me. His eyes explore me slowly, lingering on my needy, expectant cunt. I can see that one of his hands is stroking his cock though his trousers.

I can’t help it, my breath escapes in a sigh.

‘Yes,’ he says, softly, ‘I know.’

He moves to stand behind me, still fully dressed; lets me feel how hard he is, rubbing against my arse. I can’t believe that it makes me want him so badly. I try to bite back a second sigh and it emerges as a whimper.

Still teasing me, his hips circling, his hands stroke my skin – my belly, slowly, and then up to feel my breasts. He caresses them expertly, holding my hard nipples between his fingers, his breath warm on the back of my neck. I’m pushing back against him, matching his rhythm. Gods, I want that cock to thrust deep into me.

I hear him say, again, ‘I’m waiting…’

It takes me a moment to find my reply, ‘I... did… nothing…

wrong!’

The contact of his body is abruptly gone. I tense, expecting to feel his hand crack my arse, but the shock doesn’t come. I glance behind me – then downwards.

He’s on his knees.

His hands cup my arse, kneading the soft flesh. It feels good, sensual and warm. It’s making me want him even more – and he knows it.

Gently, he eases my cheeks apart. I feel his lips, his tongue, softly stroking down my skin. Like Imayho, his touch is gentle and its very softness causes my body to burn.

‘I’m waiting…’

My reply is wordless, a shudder of pleasure. His hands knead my cheeks more roughly; I feel the tip of his tongue suddenly teasing my cunt.

The restraints rattle as I move, pushing towards him as far as I can. There’s an ache in my shoulders but I don’t care, the ache in my pussy is much, much greater.

‘You need to come, don’t you?’ He replaces his tongue with two fingers, tickling, promising. ‘You need to feel me in you. I’m still waiting.’

‘Oh Gods…’

‘No, I’m not going to strike you.’ He licks at me as he speaks; I hear his garments rustling. ‘There are better punishments to teach you respect.’

As he breaks the contact, a cry of loss comes from me. I hear him stand up.

Then I feel his cock, just for a moment; warm, smooth, hard against my skin, I feel the blood-pulse, the fire that drives him. My body begs him –

please..!

Again, the contact is broken. I crane to see over my shoulder.

He’s enjoying looking at me, stroking himself. He

knows

how much I want him and he’s making a glorious show of enjoying an easy, voyeuristic wank. His dark eyes smoulder. Expressions of pleasure cross his face, expressions of appreciation at my wanton, hungry body – and at his ability to deny me.