Pasha Aslan us Samak had already achieved much in his youth. He was a warrior-general of the highest caliber and a shrewd politician. Over the past few years, he had gotten firm control of the troops, subdued the nobility, and placed his favored candidate as the Sultan of Rheonda. To outsiders, Aslan was the most powerful man in Rheonda. His reputation had spread all the way from Sanfurd in the west to the Jeizan Empire in the east.
But none knew that he too served another. All those victories were a mere prelude to someone else's ambition. The true power over Rheonda and Pasha Aslan lay somewhere else.
Even now the supposedly invincible Aslan was on his knees in one of the private chambers of the palace. He glanced to look up at the person who controlled him. Mirai, the Grand Vizier of Rheonda, stood there at the edge of his bed in all his splendid beauty.
The fading sunlight from the large window made Mirai's copper skin shine. His long black hair swayed with the gentle wind coming from outside. "You have done well, young Pasha," Mirai spoke in a voice that was gentle and yet, for Aslan, as commanding as it could get. The memory of this voice alone gave Aslan solace on many hard campaigns he had to fight against the Ghuri tribals in the East and the rowdy rebels on the continent.
"I am forever in your service, my liege," Aslan replied, with much sincerity.
He saw a smile on Mirai's angelic face, the long lips turning upwards. The line of black tattoos just beneath those eyes accentuated their enchanting quality. Aslan had often found himself lost in those amber-colored eyes. To presently avoid that, Aslan's sight slowly moved to Mirai's supple neck, onto the gold choker that his beloved adorned. That had been a gift from Aslan, many months before. As were the double set of three golden earrings Mirai wore on both his ears. The gold gleamed on Mirai's sensual copper skin. He was wearing a colorful cloak that hid the rest of his body. Aslan found himself blushing and immediately cast his head down.
"Tell me, Pasha," Mirai said. "Now that you have ended the civil war and brought everyone to heel, what reward do you seek?"
Aslan had only one answer. "To ensure your pleasure, my liege."
At this, Mirai cackled, in a way that made Aslan's heart skip a beat. He placed a hand on his chest.
Mirai strolled to the nightstand and sat next to it on the bed. He played for a while with the globe on the nightstand. Then he motioned Aslan to come to him with his right index figure, an act so seductive that Aslan could do only oblige by crawling toward the Grand Vizier and sitting in front of him with a meek posture. Submitting to his beloved, in body and soul, was never even a question for Aslan. He had loved Mirai from the moment he saw him from afar as the previous Sultan's favored paramour. Back then, Aslan was merely a boy soldier in the Sultanate's army. Now, he had finally reached here, in the intimate presence of his beloved.
Mirai had crossed his legs, the left above the right. This act resulted in his bare left foot coming out into the open. The graceful curvature of that foot, the soft heel, the long toes, and the delicious-looking toenails all combined to give Aslan an intoxicating effect. At this point, he had stopped worrying. This was a moment for reward. A reward he had worked day and night to earn. A reward more gratifying than the power, the glory, the prestige that he had achieved as the Grand Pasha of Rheonda.
"You may touch it," Mirai ordered. Aslan looked up at him in gratitude and slowly, carefully, lovingly cupped his liege's foot in his two hands. The sheer silkiness of the skin was enough to bring him close to the edge. But he was showing restraint, for that is what Mirai deserved. He started caressing the foot softly.
"My liege, may I pleasure you?" Aslan asked, with hopeful eyes.
Aslan brought his lips down and placed a kiss on his beloved's forefoot. He looked up again to see if this act was approved. Mirai had tilted his head back and was resting on his slender arms. Aslan needed no further instruction. He kissed the forefoot, feeling the veins flowing underneath his lips. He began softly and then gradually infused his kisses with passion. Then he moved to midfoot, his lips never leaving the silky surface of his beloved's skin. After spending a few minutes placing kisses, he moved down and took his time suckling each individual toe. All the while, he was also caressing and massaging the foot between his hands. Aslan wanted to cherish this moment for as long as he could, for this was an opportunity that might not come again.
He was busy pleasing his beloved when suddenly he felt long, soft fingers running through his own hair. It was more than he could handle. His beloved had deigned to run their fingers between his hair. Aslan kept at his task for he thought that this incomparable moment may end with any slight change in movement. He sat in front of his liege, servicing their feet, and feeling blessed knowing that Mirai was playing with his hair.
But the blissful moment ended, unfortunately. Mirai took both the hand and foot away from Aslan, who found himself sitting there like a helpless little pup whose nourishment has been just taken away. Aslan was not a man who cried, but he felt just the inkling of a tear coming into his eyes.
"To think that the Grand Pasha of Sultanate of Rheonda is reduced to this," Mirai spoke, with a tinge of humor. "If all the princes, nobles, tribal chiefs, rebels, and generals, who fear Pasha Aslan us Samak, saw him sitting at my feet, they'd be shocked. The most terrifying general of this planet Urranavaya is a man who falls in front of me."
"I am merely your servant, my master," Aslan replied while holding back his tear.
"Cry not, Pasha. You are no mere servant. You have achieved what Sultan Mehmori and his golden nobles could only dream of. You have united the entire Sultanate of Rheonda under your tight fist."
"That fist belongs to you, master."
Mirai again cackled, in his own captivating way. "Of course, but a man of your stature and victories deserves more rewards. Did you know, young Pasha, that men have gone to war to get what you are experiencing now?"
Aslan looked up at his beloved who gracefully stood up. "Sultan Mehmori once had a young, handsome noble roasted on a hot metal oven for touching me."
"It is an honor to be allowed in your presence, master," Aslan responded. He knew very well the dangers of courting the most favored of Sultan's lovers. But the Sultan and his cruel coterie were long dead. Aslan and his beloved had made sure of that.
Mirai's eyes were set on the window, at the dying of the light. There was grief in those hauntingly beautiful eyes. Grief that Aslan had long vowed to end from his beloved's soul. Now was his chance. But he had to be patient.
"You have been dutiful and loyal, Pasha. There is much I have asked of you and much more I will ask." Mirai turned those sad eyes toward Aslan. "But before that, I must give you what you most desire." With that, Mirai opened the knot on his robe and let it drop on the floor.
Aslan had long waited to see his beloved in all their glory. He had spent nights imagining that moment. He had composed songs he would sing when it would arrive. But now that his beloved stood there in front of him, with no shroud on them, he could say nothing. For the sight in front had entranced him.
The delicate body of his beloved was more alluring than he had thought. And he had thought about it a lot. He looked up at Mirai. The lithe neck gave way to a set of collarbones protruding out of the silky copper skin. Two connected chains of golden beads daintily hung from those thin shoulders. On his slender arms and wrists, Mirai wore golden bracelets, accentuating the glow from his choker.
The collarbones gave way to a smooth chest, with two dark brown erect nipples poking out like small hills. The torso curved into the belly like that of a serpent queen. Mirai's silky stomach went inside, and the shape of ribs came out every time he breathed. In the middle of it, was the round navel, where Aslan's eyes were stuck. The hips and the love organ were covered by a purple scarf, tied together with golden beads. Mirai slowly turned to the side, to let Aslan see those firm, silken hips which proceeded down to those long, slender legs which could alone make a man lose his faith.
Aslan was left speechless. And extremely conflicted. He wanted nothing but to grab hold of his beloved and make gentle, passionate, long-lasting love to them. Sitting down on his knees, he barely restrained himself.
"What do you desire, young Pasha?" Mirai finally spoke, in a firm voice.
"To make you happy, master," Aslan replied, without thinking.
"Is that so?"
He nodded vigorously. The feared Pasha had long vanished somewhere inside him. Now he was merely among the many worshippers of Mirai. But he reminded himself that not every devotee was blessed with this fortune.
Mirai bent down and held Aslan's hands. Those warm, creamy hands brought Aslan to a state he had never experienced before. He stood up and came face to face with his beloved. Their eyes locked together, and Aslan felt all the emotions he had long hidden inside his heart. At that moment, he only thought of ways to extend this moment into eternity. That was all his heart desired, and all his body wished for. Just him and his beloved, looking into each other's eyes forever.
