“More, good khadine!” Intoned the Sultan, his voice lined with anticipation, his
bloated features lit with excitement, more than interest. Without delay, the khadine
obeyed and raised her long, whippy birch again and as before, slashed it down fast and
firm, across Jade’s exquisitely rotund, but already fearfully lashed backside. The broad
spread birch wands covered a broad expanse of Jade’s bum, from the top of their smooth
roundness, to fully the top of her thighs and this expanse, the khadine put to good use,
slashing mercilessly down, raining blows on the full spread of bareness before her. Again
and again the wands sped to their target with a hiss and landed with a smart impact. Jade
lurched under the stroke and throwing her head back, groaned audibly, before lowering her
forehead to the leather topped whipping bench to await the next, which was not long in
coming. Fully five times the luscious khadine slashed Jade, before desisting and looking
again to her master the Sultan Selim Pasha, to accede to his demand.
Rahibe, the khadine looked at her master. Sat on his high chair, quite brazenly and
unashamedly, allowing one of his odalisques to pleasure him, he watched lasciviously, as
his pretty slave-girl was being chastised. Clearly, his slave hadn’t finished him at that
time. Rahibe could see the slave had her hand thrust down his trousers and she was slowly,
rhythmically, working his erection up and down, gently massaging him to a climax.
“More!” Demanded Selim Pasha. “Beat her again I say!” He ordered. He need say no
more, immediately, Jade’s sweet, bruised, welted and even bloody arse, became Rahibe’s
whole world again, as she set about cutting Jade another five, hard, almost brutal cuts.
Jade groaned and shouted anew, as each stroke found its target and Selim threw his head
back and jerked his hips convulsively, as his slave dutifully finished him off, milking
him dry as she worked his stiff, throbbing cock.
This had been a common enough ritual in the court of the Sultan of Selim Pasha. A
large, some may even say, bloated man in his mid-forties; he was a Sultan who enjoyed the
privileges that his class and wealth delivered. Slave-girls aplenty, odalisques to serve
him at night and land, farms, galleys and even a quarry, to maintain, in fact, increase
his already considerable wealth. Selim did not want for much. In fact, his principle love
of life seemed to be pain. Pain that is for his slave-girls rather than himself, for he
was a devoted voyeur of his slave-girls’ punishment. Any situation that demanded a slave
being beaten, he would avidly order that the punishment be inflicted before him, that he
may ‘witness the scene and observe that the correct protocol be maintained,’ which was
just a euphemism for the Sultan indulging his prurient delight in the pain and suffering
of his pretty retinue.
Affairs of state and the political demands that his role imposed on him were issues
that he avidly side-stepped, approbating those responsibilities to his chief aide- and as
many said, though in whispers- the true Sultan, Miclaeides.
He was a man every bit as cruel as the Sultan, but in a harsh, callous way. The
pain he inflicted always seemed to have a raison d’etre, a means to an end and Miclaeides
had no compunction in inflicting punishment or torture of the harshest kind, if it meant
he got what he was after.
A broad, even brutish looking man in his mid-fifties, he seemed to have retained
much of the vigour of his youth. His short, dark grey hair was thick on his head, though
he preferred to hide it under a turban and he enjoyed displaying his wealth with the
finery he wore, often favouring a neat, blue turban and blue burnoose, tied in the middle
with his thick, leather belt, from which hung a curved bladed scimitar and a horsewhip and
Miclaeides looked as though he would know how to use both. He was clean-shaven, common
with Talasians, not so with the men of the province. Talasian through and through, he had
all the casual cruelty of his race. He looked down on the people of Dar-es-Halem and
regarded them as subjugated and beneath him and was callous and brutal in his punishments
and penalties; a facet of his character, in keeping with his race, a people that had an
arrogance and air of superiority that galled most. Many of the people, even those of
authority in the region, looked on in disgust and even horror, at the excesses Miclaeides
imposed on those he considered unworthy and that was pretty much all the people of
Dar-es-Halem.
It was said that he was the true ruler of Dar-es-Halem, for the Sultan Selim Pasha
was always preoccupied to become too engaged in matters that truly concerned him. This
meant that although, strictly speaking, Miclaeides was little more than a mouth-piece for
the overweight Sultan, in truth, it meant he could get away with most anything he wanted.
It was just the same with Selim Pasha’s father, the late Sultan and many believed,
when he tragically and suddenly died, that indeed Miclaeides would take over the role, but
at the last minute, to everybody’s surprise and, for many, joy; Selim Pasha, grief
stricken, though determined, took his rightful place of office and became the new Sultan.
Though he ensured that Miclaeides was at his right hand as he did so. Many mumbled that
Miclaeides was angered by being denied his power of rule at the eleventh hour, especially
after serving the old Sultan for so long and so loyally, but most were pleased that the
reins of power had been wrested from the harsh, cruel and it must be said, more canny
man.
It so happened, as was so often the case, that as the pretty odalisque Jade was
being birched, Miclaeides was in court with the Sultan at the time. The Sultan, all but
giggling at the scene like a naughty, prurient, small boy; Miclaeides, watching it,
finding it an interesting enough diversion, if only because of the slave that was being
beaten. He made it clear to Jade that he would brook no slight or disrespect from her,
indeed, he would tolerate no such behaviour from any slave-girl, odalisque or palace
slave, but with Jade, he was even harsher. More than once, he had ordered her whipped out
on the grass quadrangle, where the other concubines could watch the spectacle, though, to
Jade’s surprise, he never made any sexual advances on her, or aimed to impose his
authority on her to give him sexual favours, something he avidly sought from other
glamorous inhabitants of Selim Pasha’s palace, both palace slaves and odalisques alike.
Jade had been in attendance that afternoon, serving the Sultan, as he retreated
from the indecent heat of the day, to the quiet and relative cool of his court. There, his
slaves attended to him, read poetry to him and played music. Some of his odalisques were
fetching for him too, a job that normally devolved to the palace slaves, Selim liked to
see all his slaves in attendance for him and Jade was a particularly pretty one to have
there. Unfortunately for her, whilst carrying a silver salver past her master, she slipped
and the slaver, complete with its fruit, was sent sprawling with a clatter, in an indecent
descent across the court floor, with Jade ending face down virtually at Selim’s feet. In
an instant, the khadine, Rahibe descended on her.
“My most earnest apologies my lord. Please forgive the recalcitrant fool’s clumsy
behaviour. I will see she is punished for this.” Rahibe took Jade’s arm, in an unfriendly
grip that was more of an arrest than an assistance to rise.
“Punish you say,” repeated the Sultan. “Then since I was the slighted one, I should
also be allowed to witness the punishment. What do you propose khadine?” He asked with
rude interest. Rahibe was familiar enough with the Sultan’s predilection for pain and
cruelty.
“I would have elected to birch the girl!” Rahibe said flatly.
“Fine! Then a birching it shall be, here and now!” Demanded Selim and Jade,
perfectly aware of her inability to control any of the events that overtook her, allowed
herself to be taken without a word of protest.
Immediately, a birching bench was hurriedly brought into the court and slaves
scurried to clear a place in front of the Sultan for it. It was a substantial enough
affair, being a bench of heavy wood, with a thick, padded, leather top. It stood waist
height at the head and the end, stooped lower, to just about knee height. Jade first
stripped herself to the waist, for she knew the routine well enough and she quietly
slipped off her skimpy, deep blue, silk bolero top, releasing a pair of heavy, but
beautifully rounded breasts. They hung and swayed just slightly for a young woman of
twenty. She then, again unbidden, mounted the dreaded birching bench. She had warmed in
its firm embrace before, but that did not mean it was with any less dread than before, if
anything, this was worse, for she knew what to expect.
Rahibe, the khadine, a palace woman who had the authority to beat the odalisques
when required, was no respecter of usual whipping protocol. Although nothing was openly
stated, much less written, it was generally accepted that younger women were beaten with a
slightly more tender hand than their older and often rounder, counterparts. So that women
of Jade’s young twenty, could usually expect a gentler lesson than, perhaps a concubine of
late twenties, early thirties. Moreover, if a woman had borne children, then no mercy was
warranted, either in the instrument of their correction, or the severity with which it was
dealt. Rahibe either was unaware of this unwritten code, or mindless of it, either way,
the birch she brandished, rather than being the milder, three or four wand instrument, was
the heavy, broad beast, that reddened the victims backside double quick and then went on
to make it bleed.
Once upon the bench, palace slaves set about strapping Jade down. First her wrists
were fastened, stretched either side of the bench, they were fixed by straps on the legs
set there for the purpose and then, parted somewhat, her ankles were similarly strapped.
Meanwhile, the khadine was readying herself for the ritual, which comprised of
stripping herself, almost as if she were the one to be flogged. She undid the small, gold
clasp that held her short, silk, heavily embroidered jerkin closed at the front. The clasp
held the jerkin closed by a small chain that failed to keep the two halves closed, showing
amply the cleavage between her two, large orbs. Cut low at the top also, her breast tops
were also on view, almost to the nipples. It almost seemed an irrelevance to remove it,
but she did so, stripping herself to her loose, low slung, but rather cropped legged,
harem pants of light lilac. By the time, Jade’s wrists and ankles were fixed, the khadine
had selected her substantial birch and was brandishing it imperiously and not without a
certain malevolence.
“Lower her trousers!” Ordered Rahibe, before the girth strap was brought around the
pretty slave’s naked midriff. The slaves eased her wide, low slung, loose, deep blue harem
pants over her hips, beyond her full, round buttocks, down to below her knees, whereupon,
the broad girth strap was brought around her and cinched down.
“I suggest my lord, that I administer and exemplary four and twenty,” suggest the
khadine. Selim, all but smiling like a small boy engaged in some mischief, nodded his
assent and the thrashing started.
Wave after wave of agonising pain shot across the whole of Jade’s posterior,
stingingly sharp, increasing immediately after, into a low, dull, throbbing agony.
Hiss, whop. Hiss, whap. Hiss whack. Stroke followed stroke, reasonably swiftly, but
in no way hurriedly, as if Rahibe was trying to make the ritual last. At first, Jade was
able to hold her tongue, but her head shot back off the bench top as she was struck. With
mouth agape and eyes closed, she absorbed the pain like a sponge, once, twice, but as the
strokes continued to rain down and if anything, seemed to get harder, as Rahibe found her
rhythm and target, Jade was overwhelmed and gave sharp shouts of complaint. Rahibe hid a
grin of satisfaction as she felt the weight of the blows she dealt, transmitted through
the birch handle. She struck with all her force, a look of steeled determination on her
pretty face. Soon, a sheen of iridescent sweat shone on Rahibe’s body and her breasts
swayed seductively as she worked.
The Sultan watched keenly and quickly motioned to one of the concubines at his feet
to attend to him. She slipped her hand under his burnoose and slowly, but firmly, took his
erection in hand and worked him with deep, impassioned plunges of her hand along the full
length of his rod. The Sultan had no inhibitions about showing his court how watching one
of his pretty slaves flogged, aroused him. By the time all twenty-four strokes had been
inflicted, Jade’s bum was a red, raised litany to Rahibe’s hard endeavour and both women
were bathed in sweat. The flogging announced was over, but Selim Pasha was just
beginning.
“More!” He ordered calmly. “Beat her some more.” Jade all but groaned, but the
khadine did not have to be ordered to do something she so enjoyed twice and set to beating
the pretty odalisque as sternly as she had started. Jade’s head shot off the bench, the
veins in her neck stood out proud, as she yelled her pain and anger to the court.
Miclaeides looked on, staring at the delicious Rahibe as she thrashed the slave.
Her full, rounded body trickling with sweat, her heavy, fat breasts swaying as she
delivered the strokes, he thought she looked fabulous. Rahibe delivered another five
strokes and saw, with some satisfaction, that small flecks of blood had appeared on Jades
sweetly rounded buttocks. After delivering another five, swingeing strokes, Rahibe paused
and looked towards the Sultan, who was clearly getting into his stride under the expertly
persuasive caresses of his pretty odalisque.
“More good khadine!” Selim said and again, the khadine repeated the strokes,
another five. Now, the Sultan was grunting and grimacing, he had slumped into a
semi-recumbent position in his chair and his fat rump was gyrating up to urge on the hand
of his slave as she worked him.
“Again,” he rasped. “More.” This time, Rahibe walked around the bench to slash Jade
from the other direction, Jade groaned audibly and turned her head, so that the khadine
could not stare at her grimace of pain. The strokes whistled in as before, but by the
third, the Sultan was at his climax, shooting his slimy jism over his slave’s hand. Rahibe
slashed another two strokes onto Jade and again, looked towards the Sultan, his head now
sagging, his features, sweaty and relaxed. Rahibe knew his slave had satisfied him and
that the beating was sure to be at an end.
“Excellent khadine, you may now leave and have that slave taken care of,” he
ordered as two of his own slaves helped him from his chair, like some aged invalid and
gently coaxed him to his own bedchamber, to clean and attend to him.
Rahibe watched as slaves released the straps tying Jade to the whipping bench and
helped her to her feet. She was satisfied with the red raw and even bloody state of Jade’s
backside as she was raised unsteadily to her feet and her loose trousers were raised. Jade
was snivelling, having been beaten into sobs by the merciless hand of the khadine.
Jade was an extremely pretty woman, possibly amongst the best slaves that Selim
Pasha owned and the regular attendances to his bedchamber for night games attested to the
fact that Selim approved of her too. She had smooth, shoulder length, ash blonde hair and
beautiful, almond shaped, hazel eyes. Her master had pierced her tongue, so that she could
satisfy him orally and her full, pouting lips, all but invited him to demand fellatio from
her. Her body was at once firm with youth and strength, but rounded and curvaceous, with
full, firm breasts and large, dark nipples, each sporting a broad, silver hoop. It was
almost as if this beauty antagonised Rahibe, whenever she had the slightest excuse to beat
her, she did so and always thrashed her hard. This occasion had been no different.
Rahibe watched disdainfully, as Jade hobbled from the court, helped by two slaves.
Miclaeides had not left and he stood next to the khadine.
“If I didn’t know better Rahibe, I would have said you enjoyed that,” Miclaeides
said quietly.
“And so I did,” she sneered. “I don’t like that sly little slave slut,” she
growled. He looked down at Rahibe’s full breasts, wet with a film of sweat and he could
smell her, sweet and warm.
“I’d like to tear you to shreds you wet slut and he pulled her to him and started
to nuzzle her wet, sticky neck. He could taste the salt of her sweat, strong on his lips.
“Not here Miclaeides!” Rahibe protested.
“They’ve all gone and you’re hot for it, I can smell it - taste it on you,” the
cruel master growled.
“It’s just that sometimes I get so worried that we’ll be found out, that’s all,”
Rahibe complained. “I’m sure the mullah suspects, what if he insists that his surgeon
check my virginity, instead of the royal palace’s surgeon. You’ll not be able to pay him
off,” Rahibe worried. Miclaeides smiled.
“You worry too much khadine. I am not without influence, any order I don’t approve
of, I can get countermanded by that dolt of a Sultan, you know that,” he reassured her.
Rahibe snorted.
“Huh, you couldn’t countermand him taking over the throne though, could you?” She
said contemptuously. Miclaeides pushed her away angrily.
“That was different. Besides, I don’t like you bringing that up again.” He turned
on her, pointing his finger aggressively at her face. “Displease me Rahibe and I’ll have
you horsewhipped out in the courtyard!” He hissed.
“Yes, that’s it Miclaeides! Have me whipped for not letting you satisfy yourself in
me, is that it!” She mocked. Miclaeides grabbed her and pulled her to him again, staring
into the fire in her eyes. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve danced to your lash
Miclaeides. You enjoy making me bleed and your men hit me hard with hate in their hearts
too. I sometimes wonder what I get out of all of this. It’s you that has the climax,
remember, I can’t,” Rahibe sulked. Miclaeides smiled a hard, cruel smile at her.
“You want me though, don’t you?” He sneered. She paused.
“I have to put the fire out Miclaeides and you know not you or any other man can do
that. Only a man with a whip can dampen me Miclaeides, you know that,” the khadine said
softly. Miclaeides frowned.
“The hoary, ugly old mullah with a whip calms the lust in a beautiful woman’s
breast!” He speculated on the irony of it.
Less than half an hour later, the pair had stolen themselves away to Miclaeides
chamber for another of their assignations. On the bed, Miclaeides was enjoying Rahibe, he
had her spread-eagle and holding her wrists, he towered over her as he took his pleasure.
Just letting his cock slide into her a small way, rationing himself, with small, easy
thrusts that only penetrated as far as his glans, but then suddenly, thrusting in hard and
full, letting Rahibe have the full length of his cock for six or seven hard, full plunges,
before withdrawing and starting slowly and steadily again. Miclaeides used Rahibe rather
brutally usually, taking his pleasure, he did not have to think of her, she could satisfy
the whole of Selim Pasha’s army and not get even close to a climax.
It was a prerequisite for a khadine to undergo full circumcision and Rahibe had
been no exception. She had undergone this protracted and hideously painful ordeal and in
doing so, her labia minora and clitoris had been completely cut away and with it, any
chance of the khadine gaining any kind of sexual gratification. Of course, it was strictly
illegal for the khadine to indulge in any kind of sexual relations with a man; even
flirting would be severely punished with a prolonged and crippling scourging. Actually
having sex was, for a khadine, a capital offence and khadines died long, slow, ugly deaths
under torture, stoning or crucifixion. Indeed, regular checks were undertaken by a
surgeon, to ensure that the khadine was still Virgo-intacta, but Miclaeides had ensured
that Rahibe’s record returned good each time she was checked.
The two lay side-by-side after Miclaeides had finished enjoying Rahibe’s body to
the full. Miclaeides chamber was cooler than Rahibe’s positioned as it was on the shaded
side of the palace, in keeping with the more important palace dwellers, even so, both lay
recumbent, sticky with sweat from their exertions.
“I am going to have to do a penance Miclaeides. Please say you’ll stay and watch,”
Rahibe suddenly said.
“I would make it my business to watch,” he said after a pause. “Is it that bad
then?”
“I can’t sleep for thinking of men…of you,” and she ran her hand over his broad,
bare chest. Anything, even the lash, is preferable to lying in bed all night, sweating and
sleepless, tossing and turning, being driven half mad by the fires of desire. A good
flogging should dispel that for me and keep the mullah satisfied for a while too…until the
next time,” she added. “It’s always worse after lying with you Miclaeides, you know that.”
Rahibe took hold of her master’s cock and massaged it. She could smell her own smell all
over it and it did not take too much cajoling before Miclaeides had a rampant erection
again. She continued to work it slowly for him.
“I suppose Selim is enjoying an afternoon of sexual delights as we lie here,”
speculated Miclaeides, lying with his eyes closed. Both knew what that meant. The Sultan
did not go to his bedchamber alone. He was always accompanied by two or three harem girls
of his choice and at least two other palace slaves, who were there to take the punishment
and gratify the sultan, whilst he watched them being beaten. He even had a whipping frame
at the foot of his bed, where two girls could be accommodated simultaneously and he would
copulate and enjoy his slaves, as he watched the slaves being caned. He even had his own
soldiers flog some unfortunate women with a cat-o’-five-tails and watched them flogged
into a swoon, when he was feeling particularly cruel and then, he would take the bloodied
whips and lash and coil them around the slave that was riding him, so that she was covered
in bloody stripes, mired by the blood soaked whips. He was a most incorrigible degenerate
and none of his slaves went to his bedchamber with a willing heart, neither those that
were assigned to satisfy him and especially those that were to take a beating for him.
“He’s a sick degenerate Miclaeides. You should be the ruler, not him,” opined
Rahibe as she continued to work Miclaeides throbbing cock.
“You’d like that?”
“I could rule with you,” she quipped, a laugh playing in her voice. Miclaeides
smiled.
“I might not want you. I would have the choice of the entire province, remember,”
He joked.
“You’d want your hot slut to satisfy you still!” Growled Rahibe, as she mounted
Miclaeides and slid his hard cock into her again.
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