Author's Note/Disclaimer:
Dear readers, this is a short story (around 2.7 k words). It's like a Harlequin/Mills & Boon romance (but gone very wrong) story set in a fantasy world mildly inspired by the Ottoman harem or Arabian Nights stories.
If you read it for romance, you'll probably be disappointed.
Please read the tags before you continue.
If you're looking for historical accuracy, realism, an intricate plot, or if you're bothered by modern erotica terms, or if you're not a fan of very short stories, look elsewhere.
TAGS:
gangbang, harem, noncon, maledom, whipping, sultan, arabian nights, concubine, ottoman, historical fantasy
***
I stretch as I pick up a confection made of starch and sugar. I'm a concubine in the Sultan's harem, and it's been a while since the Sultan has called for me in his bed chamber. This is my favorite part of being a concubine: eating sweets and bathing at the
hamam
. I don't need to worry about food and shelter, as long as I serve the Sultan on his bed on demand.
It was not always so. When I first arrived at the palace all those years ago, I had no idea what would happen when we were alone together. I was ignorant of the arts of lovemaking. But the Sultan has made sure to educate me. He taught me how to pleasure him, and he even showed me how to give myself pleasure, too. Although I have become one of his favorites, I have grown weary of life in the harem. It isn't what I want for my future.
I have fallen in love with a dashing foreign diplomat called John. My blond-haired, blue-eyed secret lover. We first met when he got lost in the harem and I had to hide him from the guards. What started as a secret tryst soon became something much more. He has promised to set me free and take me home with him, to his faraway country. He says there are no harems in his civilized country. And that he has a beautiful mansion by a lake. We will live in love and happiness, forever... Or so I dream.
But the Sultan calls for me once more, and his demands become more fervent with each passing day. I am afraid. Afraid of losing my beloved John. Afraid of never seeing him again. Afraid that the Sultan somehow knows of our plans.
"Oh, Layla," the Sultan says lazily from his divan. "You look so beautiful tonight." I blush under his praise. I kneel before him, lifting my face to kiss his fingers.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," I say, bowing my head respectfully.
He smiles indulgently. "Come."
Without saying anything else, his mouth descends upon mine. Our tongues dance together. The Sultan groans, his hands roaming over my body. He all but tears off my robe, pulling it open. I gasp as I feel his cold fingers graze my breasts. They squeeze them gently, teasingly, sending little jolts of excitement through my body.
His fingers reach lower, grazing my thighs. His fingers are hungry, greedy. So unlike how my John touches me, so gently as if afraid of hurting me.
Then the Sultan's fingers slip inside me. He knows exactly where to touch me, how much pressure to apply. I moan into his mouth as his fingers move faster and harder, bringing me closer and closer to climax.
"Please, Your Majesty," I beg, my voice trembling.
The Sultan pulls away, looking down at me with a smirk in his cruel mouth. "Please what?" he asks.
"Please let me come," I whisper.
He laughs. "And why should I do that?"
"Because I need you to!" I cry out, unable to control my emotions any longer.
In response, the Sultan grabs my hair roughly, yanking my head back. Then he slaps me hard across the face. My head snaps back, and stars explode behind my eyes. And he enters me so brutally. I scream in both pain and pleasure. A wave of dizziness hits me, making me close my eyes against the blinding light.
When I open them again, I see the Sultan watching me, smiling sardonically. His erection is still inside me. He moves slowly, letting me savor every moment. I stare at his muscular figure, his strong arms holding me prisoner. This man holds the power of life or death over me. For just a few moments, I forget my fear. I forget about John. All I can think about is the Sultan as he thrusts himself into me mercilessly.
I'm panting now, my breath coming in short bursts. My legs tremble. Every muscle in my body feels like jelly. I don't know how long this goes on for. Time seems to have stopped.
I know now that this is not love. This is pure possession and obsession. Before John, I have known desire, yes, but not how it is to be loved. Not how it is to be cherished. Not how it is to be worshipped.
I climax as I feel the Sultan's seed spilling into me. He withdraws his manhood, leaving me empty. Empty and desperate.
I close my eyes. The harem is an opulent cage, a dark place where jealousy and betrayals lurk around every corner. Tomorrow night, John will sail back to his country, along with the other diplomats. And he has promised to hide me in one of the wine barrels or luggage trunks. It matters not where, for tomorrow, I will be free. Free to go wherever I choose. To start a new life. With my beloved.
***
I hold my breath, hidden in a luggage trunk. My John promised me that he would let me out as soon we are safely out on the high seas. I'm now a traitor who tried to escape the harem. I know what would happen to me if I'm found out. If anyone finds me, they'll kill me. No mercy.
As I wait, I hear footsteps approaching. I must be at the port. I hope John would let me out here. The footsteps stop right outside my hiding spot. I hold my breath, as a hand reaches inside the trunk. I tense up, waiting for my worst nightmare to come true. But instead, I feel something soft wrapped around my waist. I relax as I realize it's only John.
"Shhh...Layla, I just wanted to make sure you're alright. The ship is almost ready."
I nod, clutching his arm tightly. "Yes, John. The trunk is a little small, but I'm fine. Truly. Thank you."
John looks at me quizzically. "Why are you thanking me? It's my duty to ensure your safety until we reached home."
"No, I just meant..." I pause. How could I tell him of the depth of my affection? That I believe wholeheartedly he is my savior and hope.
As I open my mouth again, we're interrupted by a commotion. John tries to hide me in the trunk again, but it's too late. I stand petrified as I stare into the furious eyes of the Sultan himself.
"Layla!"
His voice terrifies me, and I stand frozen in a kind of fascinated horror.
The Sultan then addresses John, who's staring wide-eyed at him and his armed guards."John, what is the meaning of this? A diplomat stealing a sovereign's woman? To think I considered you as my friend. You've disgraced yourself and your country."
John stammers, trying to explain. But before he can say anything else, the Sultan cuts him short.
"Guards, take her to the dungeons. Take her there and make sure she does not escape."
My heart stops beating. I cannot believe this is happening. I look at John, pleading with him to say something. John seems to gather up all his courage as he tells the Sultan, "Your Majesty! The harem has no place in this century. Women are not property and if your country wishes to be modernized, you should--"
The Sultan laughs, cutting off John. "This is what I dislike about your country. You speak of things you have no idea about, and have no respect for other country's customs."
Before John can even respond, two burly men grab my arms and drag me toward the Sultan.
"Layla!" John shouts, but he stops when one of the guards points his sword at him.
"Goodbye, John. And send your Queen my regards."
I watch, unable to do anything but watch, as John takes one last look at me before he drops his eyes, defeated.
I try to reach out to him, but my hands are tied by the guards. I cry silently as I'm dragged away, feeling utterly betrayed. I'm unceremoniously thrown into a cell in the palace, and I collapse onto the floor, sobbing hysterically.
***|
The door of the cell opens and several guards enter. One of them turns to me.
"Get up," he orders gruffly.
I wipe my tears from my cheeks. "What do you want?" I ask.
He smiles cruelly. "The Sultan wishes to punish you, traitor."
He grabs my wrists, binding them together behind my back. Then he ties a rope around my neck. I'm led outside like a cattle, to the courtyard. The sun is setting, casting orange light across the sky. There are several people gathered here, looking at me.
