The Harem...... All Welcome!!!

[shadowoftheheart]

I had introduced myself at the proper time to the Sultan, said the proper greetings in my accented but technically correct Arabic, and presented him with Cleopatra. At my command, she dropped to her knees, though the Sultan simply noted where she was to be kenneled.

"I shall await the time when we can speak of matters financial and business."

I bowed once more, in a correct manner for an English gentleman, and motioned for Cleopatra to follow me to the kennels.

Dear God. Sir Richard Burton? What odds? Well, I haven't the time now to make my acquaintance with the great explorer, but I do mentally tell myself that I simply must do.

"Cleopatra," I tell her in her language when we arrive at the slave pens, "You are now the Sultan's property. You have been as good a slave as I have known. Your collar is of no little value. It's yours. Also, take this. Keep it on your person."

I hand to her a thin silver chain from which hangs an engraved silver pendant. It is simple, with a Celtic weave design. I hope that the simple gesture can be understood for what it is.

 

[Babette_____]

Lady Rolith - observes silently

Susanne had seen the slave out of the corner of her eye and had shifted to the side just as he fell into her. The man behind him, a guard wearing the clothing that marked him as one of the Harem guards was pulling the slave up and speaking to him under his breath.

She heard only a few snips of the conversation and her interests were perked. The prisoner was exactly what she was looking for. He was the frest meat she needed, and she knew that though he may be reluctant in the beginning she was more then willing to have the man that had hauled him up administer a punishment upon him for her.

Lashes were a lovely way to make someone remember they were disobediant, and she knew her own strength was not how hard she could lay a whip across ones back, but was in fact the erotic acts she performed on her toys.

Her eyes took in both men allowing herself the briefest of pleasures to conjur up in her mind. She turned back to the Sultan a raised brow and a knowing smirk on her lips, as she waited to hear if he would accept her gifts or require something else or perhaps more from her in exchange for a slaves use.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

Miranda had listened and observed. She had seen the woman Yasmeen boldy walk toward the Sultan and had everyone else. She watched as the woman spoke with the Sultan and presented an amulet or pendent to him. Her eyes narrowed in and her thoughts concerning what secret she was telling the Sultan pricked her interest.

When the woman had started to leave Mianda found herself wondering how she could pry the information from one of the servants later. She watched her make her way toward the exit, until she heard Radu's request. Her eyes turned toward Yasmeen, and she could tell the idea of taking Radu was favorable with her.

Miranda admitted a slight pang of regret, for she needed to speak with Radu. A thought had been forming in her mind on how to deal with a few pesky slaves that looked to lovely for her liking. She pushed the thought away, and focused on the foriengers that were moving further and further into their lands.

Though she to was not Arabic, she was not considered an outsider. She had been working under the Sultan for years, and it was the foreigners that were the outsiders. She curled her lip in disgust. It was rare she ever had to bed a foreigner, she would if it were required of her, but she rarely enjoyed it.

Her eyes traveled over the slave traders again noting the newest prime choices. She saw the gifts growing as they were presented to the Sultan, and she wondered silently how long it would be till she could retire to the chambers. All ready her throat was dry. The ceremony was lasting longer then she thought it would.

No matter how uncomfortable she was, she still remainded on her knees in respect to her Master. Her head was still raised but by any means high enough to doubt her admiration for her Leader. The gossamer gown was beginning to cling to her form, as the heat of the room increased.

 

[cati]

Yasmeen reflects on her past.

The Shaman's hut was made of peat and thatch, sealed with a liberal layer of mud. The outer shell was covered with a thick layer of red felt cloth, an insulation against the cold Siberian temperatures. Yasmeen, half naked crouched on her haunches and gazed into the fire, transfixed. Now and again she would take a deep breath of the spiral of acrid smoke from the smouldering cannabis pot nestled in the glowing embers of the fire. The girl swayed to the Shaman's chanting, repeating the words after him.

Tabor, who had been her companion and protector since she was a child, was on his knees beside her, murmuring some mystical incantation. The neat tattoo of an animal was coming to life on Yasmeens soft flesh and was now nearing completion, the dark ink having been prepared hours earlier from the black ash of burned cannibis seeds.

It was whispered among the villagers that Tabor could conjure up the spirits of dead ancestors while under the influence of cannabis and this was enough for them to keep their distance.
The Shamans abode was heavy now with the odor of the weed, it's pungeant aroma exuded from his pores and had now became his personal trademark. The village people always knew when Tabor had passed by, especially if that person was downwind of him.

This was Yasmeen's forth flesh carving. Her body was beautifully decorated each time she killed a man, whether accidentally or in battle. It was customary for the tribe's female warriors to adorn their bodies with a tattoo after such a feat, and now the outline of a cunning fox was being carefully etched on the inside of her thigh. Yasmeen peered down in admiration of Tabor's talent as an artist.

The attack on the village had come so suddenly. The deadly horseman had appeared out of no-where, concealing themselves under a cloak of dense fog. The villagers had had no warning and no defense against the deadly assault. The frail and ancient old men, who were too weak now to fight and the women and children were caught unawares. The male warriors had been gone for two weeks now, called upon to settle a border skirmish by warring tribes, no-one knew when they would be returning. Unbeknownst to the two who now huddled in the mystics dwelling, the village was being burned and ransacked...its inhabitants ruthlessly slaughtered.

The Shamans hut was situated on the village outskirts. Tabor had had a dream some nights before, a vision of blood, fire and slaughter, that had left him with a sense of foreboding. The Shaman, for all his visionary talents could not foresee when the massacre would take place, but he knew it would also mean his death.
Tabor stopped his chanting for a moment and put down the thin artists blade. He listened to the wailing of the wind in the trees, the rustling of dry leaves, and the grasses being trampled under the heavy footfall of men and horses hoofs.

Yasmeen on the other hand, sat in a heavy stupor, unmoving and transfixed by the fires flames. The effects of the cannabis had made her sleepy, its narcotic effects giving way to a peaceful serenity.

Sensing danger, Tabor quickly scooped Yasmeen into his arms and carried his charge to a dark corner of the hut, concealing her under heavy furs. He threw rags and other smaller hides on top of that, making sure the girl was securely hidden from searching eyes. He removed a talisman from around his neck and placed it into her hand, wrapping the leather lacing securely around her thin wrist. "You must not lose this" he whispered, before kissing her forehead one last time.
The talisman was carved from glass-like obsidian, the symbols etched into its surface were as old as time itself and spoke of the wisdom of the Shamen who had come before Tabor. Whoever was in possession of the amulet was given the gift of protection.

Tabor then left the hut. Quickly mounting his horse, he sped off into the opposite direction of the village, acting as a human decoy, hoping to lead the danger away from the girl.

The arrows would ultimately find their mark, but not without some difficulty. Tabor was an excellent horseman, his mount swift, thus he managed to lead the marauders a good distance before he and his steed were felled by the bowmen's arrows. The smell of burning flesh and the screams of dying women and children were the last things he remembered before he was flung to the ground. Two arrows had penetrated the Shamans back, one in his spine, the other his left shoulder. He watched as his horse stumbled over the steep embankment, the animal reacting in fear and panic to the deadly shaft that had buried itself in it's flank.

His mind and body in torment, Tabor cursed the killers of his people, beseetching his ancestors to avenge them… he then mumbled a final prayer for the safety of Princess Yasmeen.

 

[LadyChance]

Zaynab

Seeing the commotion as it takes place Zaynab smiles softly, quietly stepping back nudging Idrial back a step, and then another and another. Their Slaver having been more interested in what was happening up near the woman and Sultan had forgotten about them. Again nudging gently to Idrial taking another step back bringing them closer to what they both wanted most of all. The chance to return home, not their actual homes but to the lands from which they came from.

Chancing a look around, though keeping her eyes down cast Zaynab sees that almost everyone is watching the show up near the Sultan and that none are watching them. Feeling some hope spring forth in her chest Zaynab smiles a bit more now. Continuing to move slowly taking one step at a time, wondering if her and Idrial would ever make it far enough away before being caught.

Making it look they were going to step further back into the rest of the slaves, both girls quietly make their ways to the back of the group. Both holding their breaths, hoping and yet fearing, both emotions being so strong that neither could breath. Once they had made it to the rear of the slaves they slowly make their way towards the side further away from the Sultan but closer to freedom. If they could just make it around the corner where no one would have seen them presented.

Zaynab kept telling herself that if indeed they escaped then it would not be like the Sultan would care since he had not accepted them as of yet anyone. So the only one who would be out was the slaver. Keeping her eyes upon the doorway but her head low Zaynab lead the way slowly ever so slowly to their freedom.

 

[redbaron05]

Akbar Thwarts an escape

After watching the comotion caused by Yasmeen Prince Akbar turns his attention back to the beautiful woman in blue he had had his eye on ever since she had arisen from her litter and not seeing her scans the crowd and sees her and her acomplice trying to slip away he quickly and quietly alerts a near by guard that one of the Sultans gifts was trying to escape

 

[Microwave0ven]

Name: Jaden

Age: 18

Background:
son of a middle-class family who had run away from home for adventure, but has been captured by slavers. still in the process of being trained (as any sort of slave you see fit).

Phys. Descrip: black hair, blue eyes, athletic physique

Other Descrip: is adjusting well to the life of a slave, still prone to saying what he thinks without asking permission

-----------------


Jaden knelt beside his Handler, the one who was in the process of training him. He kept glancing around the room in awe at the rich decorations and beautiful people all around. As the son of a middle-class worker, he had never seen such finery in his entire life. Gaping at one of the reclining slavegirls up on the stage, he was caught completely unawares as his Handler's open palm slapped him across the face.

"Keep yer 'ead down, bitch." growled the man. The Handler had joined the caravan as a handler with the hopes of being assigned some pretty young wench to train, but was given this male instead. The only male slave in the caravan.

Jaden managed to regain his balance before landing on the floor and sat up again, this time keeping his head properly bowed, eyes fixed on the ground. "Yes sir." he mumbled. He kept sneaking peeks at the rest of the room out of the corners of his eyes when he thought his Handler wasn't looking.

'The boy learns quickly, at least.' The Handler mused to himself, 'Its only been a month, but he behaves well. Wouldnt it be interesting if someone in the court should take interest in him though?'

 

[Joe Schmoe]

NPC:The clipped wings of two birds - Zaynab & Idrial

The guard nodded in silence after he received the order from the Prince. He sighted the two birds that were trying to fly from their cage. Moving along the perimeter in the opposite direction he wasted no time in situating himself to snare them just when they thought freedom might be in their hands.

He watched the last of the presenters near the Sultan as another eunuch had his hands on another futile attempt of flight. He gave the impression of being distracted as he kept the view of the two women in sight out of the corner of his eye.

The Sultan rose, shouting at the man slave up near the throne as the guard observed the two girls inch closer and closer to the door.

Just as they edged themselves from the crowd that faced the Sultan they turned to make their break for the door. Two steps and tall muscular guard stood centered in the doorway as the the point of the massive Kudar blade pointed at the slavegirls.

 

[Joe Schmoe]

The Sultan's wrath

The Sultan stood upright from his throne. He was livid when the slave came crashing into the Great Hall.

"What is the meaning of this?! What is this...this...this infidel slave doing in my presence and before my guests?! You disgrace me and my house before my guests! Get him out of here! Get him out of here NOW! Chain his hide outside, to the pole!"

The Grand Vizier stepped up to the Sultan after speaking to the Prince and cautiously whispered to him.

"What?" He glared at the slaver that had brought the two from the western north. "Your...gifts", he said with a sneer, "are scurrying away like lambs from a sleeping shepherd."

He pointed to the door at the opposite end of the Great Hall. "Look! Under your very nose they flee. You have lost face in the House of Khalim. You insult my house with you sloven ways. You are not welcome here. Remove yourself and do so before I have you removed and do not show your face here again or you will pay dearly! I will deal with those two later."

 

[redbaron05]

I will deal with those two later." hearing his brothers words Prince Akbar leans over and whispers something in his ear "dear brother do not let your wrath cause you to do something you may regret turn these two over to me and i will turn them into proper slaves for you sire"

 

[gypsy4191]

"Soon girl, soon you will be wagging that tongue with a different tone."

"Bah you males are all the same, stuffed shirts and swaggering peacocks, go take you shriveled up little cock and shove it up your boyfriends arse."

With that said Almira closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, still awaiting the wrath of god to fall upon her head, but not actually that worried about it

After all what was the worst they could do?

 

[DrStein]

Radu observed the goings-on cautiously, turning his dark eyes to the Sultan at his outburst. With silent strides, he approached his master in time to hear Prince Akbar speak.

"Your grace," Radu whispered in a voice he knew only the Sultan, his brother, and Miranda would hear, "pardon my intrusion, but I second your brother's decision. In addition, I can make swift examples of these infidels. You know my ways. Tonight, I can come to them as they sleep. They shall awaken in the morning to find the fresh wounds certain to leave a scar, yet they will never know it was me.

"It will send a warning to others. Those who defy you will know that you have the power to command their fates. And that fate can come to them so swiftly, they would never feel it... unless I wanted them to."

 

[poohlive]

Habib took great pride in all his work. From guarding the Harem, to cleaning his sword, even the menial tasks such as this one, chaining one up to the pole outside.

The sun beat down on his already tanned skin. It was a deep brown, glossy from sweat, as he poured the chains tight. He felt a little movement would be nice for the man. Poor Nackal had to spend all day out here, might as well be able to move some.

"There we are," He said, the last chain in place. The man could stand comfortably, walk around the pole if he chose, even lay down. There was no shade, and the sun beat down on them with tremendous force. Just the few minutes it took Habib to chain him to the pole, sweat already poured like rainfall from him.

He moved to wear a skin of water was waiting, in the shade. He drank some, and poured the rest over his shaved head. The cool water trickled down his body, and he was very thankful.

"Well, I told you not to run, didn't I?" He said, looking at the poor man, made to endure the elements.

"It is worse at night. Ashot as it is in the daytime, it is twice as cold at night. If I were you, I would try to save my strength. Believe me when I say you are going to need it."

Leaving two other guards out to watch Nackal, and warn him if anything were to happen, Habib went back to the Sultan's throne room, awaiting more orders.

 

[Logan2]

Robert de Magoun

Age: 21
Height: 6'4;
Hair: Dark brown, short
Eyes: Brown

------------------

Robert felt awfull. He stood there between foreig people, slaves, beautifull woman and strang looking men and didn't know what was happening. His father, a minor noble living in prussia had send him here to learn about the customs about this land but Robert guessed he had been send away because he was trouble. He was the third son of a minor noble and he guess that nobody really would mourn him. His mother had died many years ago and his oldest brother would inherit everything their family owned. His other brother was an acomplishd soldier but he was a nobody. He couldn't fight, wasn't rich and even the women at home seemed to stay away from him even though he was rahter good looking.

He missed his home and especially his books. He loved reading a lot and hoped he would be able to do this here, but first of all somebody had to introduce him to the sultan. He didn't know if he was expected to do this himself or what else was required of him.

 

[LadyFairy]

Idrial had felt Zynab nudge her and chanced a quick glance around. Seeing what Zynab had Idiral new this would be their only chance to escape if they ever were going to try. They hadnt been bought by the sultan yet and so the only one who could punnish them would be the slaver if they were caught. A shiver went up Idrials spine at the thought of what their punnishment would be but they had to at least try.

Finnaly the door was in sight just a few more steps and they would be free.. Idrial froze as two guards stopped them, she had been half tempted to push past them and fight her way out, but the spears pointed at them changed her mind. Well at least we can say we tried.... she said to Zynab as she heard the sultan speak to their slaver.

Slowly turning Idrial watched as he stalked back their way his face red with rage at having been dismissed. His fist raised as he made his way thru the crowed and went to strike Zynab as she was closest to him... This is your fault .. I'll see ye both punnished for your disobediance...your not the sultan's yet...

Idiral quickly ran forward getting in the way of his fist taking not only the first blow but the second, and third, as well the slavers fists falling fast. She had expected another blow, or even the crack of a whip as she fell to the floor, but when it didnt come she dared to open her golden eyes to see that the Slaver had been restrained by yet more guards, as he continued to fume. Release me they are mine to punnish....

Idrial rose to her feet with Zynab's help, and then remembering her place she said. Zynab i have to kneel..or step back behind you.... i am ok dont worrie i went thru worse when they were training me remember its ok.. Stepping back behind Zynab taking her place she lowered her eyes as she was supposed to do and waited to see what would come of this last turn of events.

ooc : sorry all for my spelling i dont have spell checker up on my puter yet. *smiles*

 

[cati]

Yasmeen had allowed her mind to drift only for a few moments before she was brought back to reality. The angry scene now taking place in the great hall was no laughing matter. She turned to look at the Sultan and followed his gaze towards the two unknown slave girls who were attempting to slip away. How foolish their plan, how painful their punishment, that is if... the Sultan decided to keep them at all. He had no patience for insubordination.

The room was in utter chaos, some of the guests, a few guards and even some of the slave girls had seemingly lost their senses. If there was ever a perfect time for an assassin to make his move against the Sultan, he would be wise to make it now, but Yasmeen was relieved to see that the Sultan was well protected.
His man Radu had appeared quickly on the scene, having emerged from a hidden alcove.

The girl watched as even the Vizier took action. Coming forward from his place behind the Sultan, he began barking orders over the din of the crowd, first to one guard and then another commanding them them to gain control of the situation and seize the female infidels.

Peering over the heads of the other slave girls, Yasmeen's eyes settled on the Sultan's consort Miranda, who seemed strangely unfazed by all the commotion. The beautiful slave sat quietly, unmoving... as if waiting for something else to happen. There were too many strangers among them, too many opportunities for disaster.

Yasmeen's fingers reached to her throat, feeling for the Shaman's amulet. She gasped, realizing her folly. In her unselfish desire to protect the Sultan, she herself was now left an easy target for anyone who might wish to do her harm.

 

[redbaron05]

Idiral quickly ran forward getting in the way of his fist taking not only the first blow but the second, and third, as well the slavers fists falling fast. She had expected another blow, or even the crack of a whip as she fell to the floor, but when it didnt come she dared to open her golden eyes to see that the Slaver had been restrained by yet more guards, as he continued to fume. Release me they are mine to punnish....

'Guards arrest him and seize the slaves they are now the property of the House of Khalim' Prince Akbar orders Turning to address the slaver 'you will not abuse the property of the Sultan you infidel'

 

[LadyChance]

Zaynab

Zaynab watched the events unfold, they had almost made it to freedom. Almost but it wasn't enough and that meant punishment. As she listened to the Sultan yell at their Slaver, Zaynab knew it would be the blocks or worse his ship once more. She should never had tried but didn't these people understand that slaves who did not want to be slaves would always try to run, it was in their natures.

She watched the Slaver storm down towards her, his fists clinched in rage and death in his eyes. This is going to hurt she thought, standing tall with a look of pure defiance in her storm blue eyes. Zaynab was ready to take the blows, it had been her who had instigated the escape so it should be her who took the brunt of the punishment.

Just as the Slaver reached her Idrial stepped in the way, taking the hits that had been meant for her. Crying out when she sees Idrial fall and still he continues to hit upon her. "Stop him, please I beg of you!" Yelling this out to anyone who would listen to her, her eyes meeting the Sultan's as tears stream down her beautiful face. Pushing forward to the Slaver her small fists pummeling down upon the head of the man. Trying to think of a way to make him stop. And then he does spitting on both of them, poor Idrial laying on the floor in a crumbled heap.

Reaching for her Zaynab pulls her up and into her arms holding Idrial to her protectively. Eyeing the Sultan and those around her while her small delicate hands search for broken bones upon Idrial's body. When she is satisfied that Idrial would be ok she releases the girl. Zynab i have to kneel..or step back behind you.... i am ok dont worrie i went thru worse when they were training me remember its ok.. Idrial's words come to her softly filled with pain but she moves slowly to Zaynab's feet to remain quiet.

Looking back up to the Sultan, Zaynab's eyes filled with storm clouds. Her attempt at escaping had been stopped and Idrial had taken the punishment for her. Shame for her failure, and shame for not being able to stop Idrial being hurt written plainly for all to see. Giving a small nod of acceptance, indicating to the Sultan that she was indeed done Zaynab once again lowers her eyes. Awaiting the punishment that she so richly deserves. Her small hand moves to the shoulder of her friend, comforting both of the girls with just the simple touch.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

Miranda glanced up swiftly, then back down. Her eyes had caught the beauty of the two women that had caused the latest distrubance. She remained as she was trained, quietly and with the air of superiority that her postition held. Miranda had been through these presentations dozens of times. There were at least two large ceremonies such as this twice a year, and she had attended them all since she had moved from a simple slave child to being taken into the harem when she had come of age.

Every ceremony started out like this. Guest would arrive, everyone excited, everyone trying to outdo and outshine the other. What Miranda learned every year, and at every ceremony was who would stay and who would collapse under the thumb of her Master. She knew that there were several all ready in the Sultan's possession that she would have to keenly watch, all ready she could feel the blade of two twisting in her back.

As she kept herself poised and quiet, the small of her back begining to hurt, she thought about the commotion and those two new slave girls. One had looked weak the other strong, now she had to wonder if perhaps it was a ploy. Perhaps both women were strong and powerful. She knew that not all women enjoyed the pleasures of the Harem, but once they were broken they knew no other way.

Miranda had been broken early, so early she didn't even remember anything but pleasing the Sultan. She did know one thing, all of these new slaves would need to be trained well, for even those that were considered trained and hovered on the edge of unseating her, they had not yet managed the level of obdience she had. She would do whatever her Sultan told her to do. It was her job, her life, she was there only to please him.

So as she sat on her knees as her throat grew more dry and her back began to carry it's pain up her spine. Miranda knew that to draw attention to oneself was to bring down her Master's wrath. It had all ready been observed twice. She knew the others would learn, if you accept your fate, then your life is richly rewarded.

 

[ZuesTheGod]

Kenneth - outside -almost visible....

He moved the curry brush over the white mare. The horse was one of the finest peices of horse flesh that he had seen in ages, perhaps ever. Her muscles rippled as he stroked the brush over her. Kenneth's eyes had taken in everyone that had entered the palace and now he had observed a man being pulled to the whipping pole. He hung his head at the barbarian act, but knew that he could not do anything to help the man.

Kenneth was there for one person and one person only. He didn't want to harm anyone, he just wanted to take his sister home. He pictured her in his mind, her face would probably match their mother's. Beautiful, kind, and innocent. His fingers curled tight around the handle of the brush. No longer innocent at least not in the ways of the bedchamber. But it wasn't her fault, he knew it wasn't. She wouldn't have wanted this life, she'd have wanted the one he could have provided for her. The one their parents could and would have given her.

He saw his friend being pulled out of the palace with orders to be arrested. He moved to interject, knowing that if he had he would have been found out. The old man had done what he had asked him to, he had gotten him into the Sultan's grounds. He brushed the horse that was to be the gift to one of the Sultan's family members. She would make a fine gift. His eyes looked to his old friend once more, and the nod of "Yes" reached his eyes. The signal that his sister was infact in the house of the Sultan.

His friend would likely die now, but they both had known that was a chance. He recalled his friends words, "I'm but an old man, and I am not dumb. I know my wife will be there, I know she will be buying a man, and I know my time here is coming to a close. She has feed me the poison for years, so it is good I go honorably... If I am caught."

Kenneth prayed his friends death would swift, and his wife would suffer dearly with whatever slave she purchased. He turned away and lead the fine beast into the stables once more. Memories of the little cherub face surrounded his mind. He had only that image of her to blend with the one of his mother. He pulled the locket from his pocket. Opening it up he stared at the photo of his parents and rubbed the locket of hair that had been clipped from his sisters head when she was just a year old. He wondered how different it would be now that she was a woman.


Closing the locket on his dreams, he moved over to the corner and took part in the afternoon meal that had been provided to the other stablemen.

 

[Luna-fey]

Symra watched the scene in the hall through the gauzy fabric of her veil. She pitied the two girls for their folly in trying to escape, and she knew that there would be retribution for their act. She was content in her life in the harem. Memories of her former life were as vague as sandstorm clouds forming in the desert.

She wondered if the pale blonde spoke the language of her country. Symra was from Norway; her native language was Swedish. If she missed anything from home, it was the sound of her grandmother's voice singing while they cooked in the kitchen or washed the clothes. There were sounds in Swedish that were completely different from any phoneme in Arabic and these sounds--Symra dearly missed them, the hum of her native tongue.

Symra's father was a scholar; that was his passion and his love, a passion he shared with his red haired daughter. He worked as a printer and translator and because of his work Symra learned French, German, English, and Italian. In the Sultan's country, it was not long before she spoke impeccable Arabic and some Greek.

If the girl with the pale blonde hair and snow-capped blue eyes remained, she would have to speak to her in Swedish; perhaps she could speak words of comfort.

 

[cati]

Yasmeen

Yasmeen sat among the other girls in silence. She wished desperately that the disturbance would pass and the evening's entertainment could begin. There was nothing to be done but wait. She was becoming bored so easily these days, the pleasurable, but simple life of a slave girl simply had no appeal for her. Occasionally her eyes would go to the door, searching for someone who might peek her interest. Perhaps some stranger would appear out of no-where and scoop her up in his arms and the two of them would ride off to some far away oasis. She looked towards the door in expectation.

Eventhough Radu had made a request that she come to his chambers that evening, it was still hours before nightfall. Perhaps he would change his mind, or the Sultan might send him off on some mysterious mission. She had the feeling that Radu's interest in her was not of a sexual nature.
Sighing heavily, Yasmeen toyed with the idea of seducing another girl and pleasuring her in some dark corner, behind the throne perhaps. At any rate she was somehow, someway, determined to enjoy herself.

 

[BriefcaseRonin]

Buthayna

Buthayna sighed, still enjoying the fresh air as she calmed her raging desires. It was then that she heard a great ruckus and her Father's raised voice. The Sultan's Daughter quickly returned from the balcony at the sound of all this commotion. She moved to her Father's throne, taking his hand and looking around quickly, "Father, what is the meaning of all this?" She slowly took her seat, a little uncomfortable with what was going on.

But she found the pillar of stability in the chaos: her Father's slave Miranda. Yes, she was a vision, a true beauty and the way her dress clinged to her delicious, mature, body was more then enough to throw a fresh log on the fire she had nearly put out. She crossed her legs though, blushing and lowering her eyes, hoping her discomfort with this whole foolish situation would provoke her father into dealing with these ill-mannered infidels and their untrained slaves.

 

[Microwave0ven]

Jaden's head inevitably came up again. Someone's voice, a golden, sweet, musical voice cut through the din around, saying "Father, what is the meaning of all this?" He scanned the room, his eyes finally falling on Buthayna, dressed in all her finery. He didn't take his eyes away as he mouthed, 'wow', barely daring to breathe. She was gorgeous!

His Handler was thinking about something and didn't notice his errant slave's vantage point until one of the other handlers nudged him. Roughly, he grabbed the back of Jaden's neck and forced his head down again. "I said to keep your head down, or you'll get us all killed!" he hissed with an uncharacteristic note of pleading.

The girl by the sultan was absolutely captivating and he wanted to watch her. Jaden twisted away from his handler and stepped (on his knees) a few paces closer towards the dais on the other side of the room.

His handler growled something and two other handlers joined him. Together, they quickly and efficiently got the stubborn slave cuffed and hobbled before he could cause a scene. A short chain from his neck to his balls kept his head bowed to the proper degree. The handler grunted in satisfaction and stood beside him again, keeping a watchful eye on him this time. The other two handlers returned to their charges.

 

[Joe Schmoe]

The removal of the Slaver

"Stop him, please I beg of you!"

'Guards arrest him and seize the slaves they are now the property of the House of Khalim' Prince Akbar orders Turning to address the slaver 'you will not abuse the property of the Sultan you infidel'

The dark complexion of the Sultan was deepened by the heat of fury as he spoke quickly to the Grand Vizier. Even the hold of his precious daughter's hand could not calm the anger that raged in the man.

"Father, what is the meaning of all this?"

"This is not of your concern, Buthayna. This is the matter of men, now silence child."

A single nod and the Grand Vizier stepped away only to return after a few seconds with a silver tray in his hands. Opals, rubies, sapphires, emeralds and diamonds were heaped upon it as he followed his Sultan who left the dais, marching to the Slaver who was in the clutches of his guards.

He stood stock still as his jaws clinched, his narrowed eyes staring down the outcast man.

"You have insulted my family again by striking women before my guests. Consider yourself fortunate I do not feed your carcass to the dogs you pathetic worm." Reaching behind him he grabbed a fist full of gems and threw them at the slaver and continued berating him through clenched teeth, "take them and get out off my land. Fail not to remember, once past the gates, thieves and cutthroats rule the waste land. Your and your laden pockets just might not make it to the shore and the safety of your ship. Make haste before the nightfall and do not look back. Get him out of my sight!"

The Slaver did not look again at the two slave girls he brought or the Sultan but scooped up what he could before the guards took hold of him again and dragged him out of the palace and tossed him to the sand beyond the outer gates.

"Wait, surely you do not expect me to walk...."

He was cut off when the Gate Keepers closed the double massive iron gates, locking the man out and condemning him to his fate.