The Prince and his Harem

“Hala, hala, hala,” sleazy Sheikh Ramzi greeted Prince Hamed and his African slave, Imre. “My humble abode has just been lit by a beautiful light like the sun, and colored like the flowers in the garden, and…”

Hamed interrupted the barrage, “Thank you, Your Eminence. It’s an honor to be in your fantastic palace.”

“Eminence? No, no, no, my dear prince. Call me Ramzi. Just like your dear uncle used to do.”

“Again, thank you, uh… Ramzi,” young Hamed bowed slightly. “I am honored.” Dear uncle, huh? Thought Hamed. Dear uncle’s cock that raped your fucking ass, more like it.

“And this… black thing,” Ramzi pointed at Imre, “is your slave, I can tell.”

“Imre is with me, Ramzi, at your invitation,” Hamed snapped, starting to be irritated.

Imre was smiling. He knew what was in store. He knew that, very soon, his cock was going to plow into this sleazy person, mercilessly, painfully. He knew that he was going to really hurt the man with his huge cock. The last time it measured 3 centimeters longer than Rasheed’s 26, the other boy in Hamed’s harem. He could really hurt with his tool. He might be a slave; he might have been sold and bought.  But he could always fuck, not as a slave but as a man, better than any free man.

“Right, right,” enthused the minister. “Come in, come in,” he said, wrapping an arm around Hamed’s shoulder, but having to raise himself to do so because the young prince, even just short of 15 years old, was some 10 centimeters taller than Ramzi.

They were led to the main hall, which Hamed noticed was grander and plusher than his uncle’s. In the center there was a huge banquet laid out already, with food and fruit, enough for 20 persons or more.

“Are we expecting any more guests?” Hamed asked the sheikh, wondering about all the food.

Sheikh Ramzi laughed. “It is not every day that the young prince Hamed answers my invitation, is it? And also agreeing to bring with him his black slave.”

“Ramzi, I am glad that you approve of Imre,” Hamed chided.

“We’ll see. We’ll see. To be truthful in front of the Almighty, you stole this black slave, this Imre, from me. I had wanted to buy him myself, but the offer that your eunuch, Omar, made on your behalf was way over the budget I had set out for slave shopping.”

Hamed laughed and, surprising even himself, he wrapped his arm around the minister’s waist and pulled him closer, sideways, their hips pressing. Ramzi inhaled audibly. Hamed could feel the minister’s body shake at the squeeze.

“You will like Imre, Ramzi,” he whispered into the minister’s ear. “Very much.”

“Oh, I know, I know, my dear Hamed. I have seen him naked. But I yet have to see him hard,” Ramzi whispered back unabashedly.

When Imre had been paraded at the slave market, The Place, and prodded by the slaver, he was naked, but his dick remained soft, even after the slaver wrapped his mouth around the snake-like penis to make him hard. It had been then that Hamed rushed Omar to make the purchase and stop the shameful parade. So, the minister was right: he had not seen Imre’s hard monster.

“You will, Ramzi,” Hamed leered. “And more than see him. Eminence, you will see what you have never seen before… and feel it, too.”

Hamed had a strong inkling that Imre was going to ram through this man’s ass without any mercy. This made him content. The sleazy minister needed to be rammed hard.

“Naughty Hamed,” Ramzi smiled, his hip still glued to the prince. “I am blessed not only with this slave but with the most handsome prince in the princedom.”

Hamed could almost feel the sheikh drooling.

Hamed’s stomach lurched at the thought. He wouldn’t come close to this sleazy minister for anything in the world. But it looked like Sheikh Ramzi had other thoughts. Hamed sighed inwardly. He knew that Sheik Nahed, his uncle, was right. He had to force himself to pleasure this sleazy man. Ramzi was powerful and rich, and whatever the young prince did now would pay back tenfold in the future. After all, his uncle had instructed him: An ass is an ass!

Ramzi sat at one of the opulently laid out tables, cross-legged, on the carpeted floor. Hamed sat on his right. When Imre approached to sit next to them, Ramzi frowned and gestured for him to remain standing.

“If Imre sits next to us,” Hamed whispered in the minister’s ear, “you might like to get to feel him, under the table.”

The minister did not comment. He waved for Imre to come and sit next to him on the other side. Inwardly, Hamed giggled. That ass was going to be fucked so bad, he mused.

Sure enough, no sooner had Imre squatted down next to the minister than Ramzi’s left hand snaked under the table. Hamed glanced at his friend to see a grimace on his friend’s face as Ramzi’s impatient hand apparently groped his dick.

The time at the banquet was pleasant enough, even with both of Ramzi’s hands being under the table, fondling the boys. Hamed surprised himself by getting a boner under the minister’s groping fingers. And the slimy minister looked appreciative on both sides, his body visibly shaking with excitement.

The food was cleared, the servants ordered away, and the three of them remained lounging on the cushions. Ramzi did not lose time. The minute the servants exited, Ramzi was on Hamed’s cock, suckling with a loud noise, trying to swallow Hamed’s long 22-cm cock. Hamed leaned back, holding his dishdash up to his waist, and winked over the minister’s head at his friend, as Imre massaged the sucking man’s butt.

Without letting go of Hamed’s cock, Ramzi fished out a bottle of lubricant and handed it to Imre. Imre used a very small blob to grease the man’s ass, fingering it, and applied even less lubricant on his now-erecting monster dick. Just a tad! He wanted the bastard to feel pain. He wanted to split him in half.

Ramzi offered his flabby ass willingly, and Imre spooned him, raising one leg high, exposing the hairy crack with an already stretched hole. Imre was thinking: this bitch had been more fucked than a 50-year old prostitute in Amsterdam.  Placing his cockhead at the sparingly greased fuck hole, Imre thrust hard and penetrated.

The minister’s scream brought a couple of servants running into the hall. Ramzi waved them away angrily as he was trying to breathe. Imre pushed harder, holding the minister’s ankle tightly, not allowing him to move away, not caring at the pain his cock was causing. It seemed there was no end to Imre’s marauding cock shaft as it found its vicious way inside the slimy ass, pushing the intestines up to the stomach. It was as if Imre’s monster black dick would keep going in and up until it emerged from the shit-man’s throat.

Hamed grabbed Ramzi’s head and brought him back onto his cock, thrusting up to the throat, stifling the screams and moans with his meat. Hamed thought, Imre must be killing this bitch’s ass!

After pounding the man’s hole as forcefully as was possible, with all the energy and anger of youth, Imre dumped his load inside the minister as Hamed shot his semen down the minister’s throat. The two boys slipped out of the minister’s orifices. The minister appeared to have fainted. He lay unmoving, hardly breathing.

“Ramzi?” Hamed was concerned. “Your Eminence?”

Sheikh Ramzi opened his eyes, tearful eyes. “Boys. Do me again. AGAIN! Oh, do me again.” He finished with a wailing voice and a shaking body, his mouth and ass foaming with boy cum.

Hamed and Imre exchanged glances. Hamed’s cock was semi-hard, but Imre’s was still stiff, dripping. The minister’s orifices were filled again, with brutal force. Imre roughed his ass as hard as his young body could sustain before he shot his second load. Take my black slave cum, you dirty bitch Imre kept thinking as he spurted deep into the minister. Hamed just lay back and let Ramzi do all the work, hungrily sucking the cum out of his nuts.

“You’re always welcome to my humble house, Prince Hamed,” the minister beamed at the two boys as they were taking their leave.

“Thank you, Sheikh Ramzi. My uncle spoke correctly that you were a very nice man and a valued acquaintance.”

Hamed and Imre could not stop laughing all the way back and into their tent, where the three other boys were waiting: Igor the Hungarian, Ivan the Russian-Hungarian, and Rasheed the Turk.

“Fucked him blind,” Imre jumped with glee. “You should have heard the bastard scream, like a lone wolf under a full moon. AND he demanded seconds! Shit, Hamed, we should have double-fucked that bitch!”

Hamed fell onto the cushions laughing and kicking his feet. “I can’t believe I dumped two loads down the sleaze’s stomach! It probably mixed with your spunk, Imre.”

They all roared with young hilarity.

“Any news?” Imre asked his friends, after the boys settled down.

“News?” Ivan said mischievously. “About what, African?”

“About… you know, from The Place. The new boy?”

“Oh,” Ivan sneered. “You mean those,” he laughed as he patted a pile of some ten folders next to him.

Hamed and Imre grabbed the folders and started going over them.

Rasheed said over their shoulders, “Sheikh Fahed told Omar that the folders and the talk on Skype are free as long as Hamed buys someone.”

“I like number three,” Imre said as he examined the photo of a blond, blue-eyed boy who looked 16 or 17 years old. “He is exactly my opposite.”

“Oh, dear Almighty. It says here that he’s English,” Hamed exclaimed.

There was some heaviness to the prince’s words as he remembered Robert, the English escort that he had fallen in love with and that his uncle had sent back to England, breaking them apart. Princes don’t fall in love with gay English prostitutes, his uncle had admonished him.

“The prince is pining for the English whore,” Igor teased and earned a cuff on the ear as the other boys snickered. They all knew about Hamed’s infatuation with Roger.

Rasheed added: “Who wants to get our prince an air ticket to London?”

Somehow the boys found this extremely hilarious, except for Hamed who blushed and scowled.

“Let’s put the English boy on Skype,” Igor suggested, rubbing his crotch.

The blond boy came on. He looked beautiful. He looked sad! The blue eyes stared emptily into the camera. The sandy hair looked limp and shabby.

“Oh, God,” Ivan whispered. “He is miserable.”

There wasn’t much conversation with the boy. It turned out that he had been on holiday from his home in Wales, England, to Romania with his parents, when he was kidnapped and brought here.

The boy’s name was Ian. And Ian was sad.

Hamed immediately made up his mind. Without getting his friends’ opinions or looking at other possibilities, he dispatched Omar for Ian.

“Try to bargain this time, Omar,” Hamed instructed the eunuch.

“Yes, Highness,” Omar took the folders and left.

“Listen, all of you,” Hamed said to the four boys. “Remember that you had been right in Ian’s place not that long ago. I can’t warn you enough.”

“You don’t have to warn us,” Rasheed said. “We can all see the sadness on his face. God, he must miss his parents so much!”

“Let’s fuck before he comes,” Ivan said, ever the playful one.

Hamed and the others fell on Ivan, wrestling him onto the carpeted floor of the tent and spanking his bubbled ass.

“I was thinking,” Hamed said, his eyes closed, lying naked on the cushion. “Why should slaves be gay? Why do we assume that they want to have sex with men?”

“Because you use them. You buy them and they become your property. You fucking use them.” There was a decidedly bitter tone in Igor’s tone.

“I haven’t used you,” Hamed countered, a bit affronted at the attitude. “I haven’t used any of you, guys. You have become my friends. And the sex that we have? Don’t tell me that you are being forced into it.”

“You’re different,” Rasheed told the prince, placing a hand on Hamed’s smooth chest. “You are kind and considerate. But we are still your slaves.” Rasheed pinched a nipple.

“Not for long, Rasheed,” Hamed said in a very low, serious voice. “Not for long.”

The four slaves looked at each other questioningly.

“Remember,” Hamed sat up, his youthful naked body still glistening with sweat. “When the new boy comes, let’s not assume that he is gay. If he is not and he sees us fuck, or if we pull him into our midst as we fucked, it may be even more traumatic than having been kidnapped and enslaved.”

The boys nodded their heads in agreement.

But they all waited for Ian.

To be continued.