Date: Fri, 12 Aug 2016 18:30:32 +0000 (UTC)
From: simon peter <simon23232@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Prince and his Harem Part 7

Dear Reader

This story, like many of my other stories, has elements that are based on
real personal experiences.

However, the names and places are all fictitious.

If you feel like sending me a comment, negative or positive, please do so:
simon23232@yahoo.com

I would love to read your comments and suggestions.

Also, very importantly, please donate to keep nifty going. Thanks.

Simon


The Prince and his Harem Part 7

By Simon Peter


It was not a slave market. At least, no one called it so. But it actually
was. In one of the plush streets in the city suburbs, the town house was
surrounded by greenery, carefully manicured and tended by a host of
gardeners to stay alive in the harsh desert climate.

Inside, the place was very tastefully set, modern and rich. It was called
"The Place." This simple name did not reveal what the real business
was. The front area was a connoisseur restaurant serving European food. It
was one of the very few places in the city that served wine by a special
permit from the government. Alcohol was banned in the whole princedom,
except for a couple of 5-star hotels and The Place. The owner was one of
the most influential persons in the country. Not only crazily rich, but he
also had powerful contacts locally and abroad. He did a lot of business
with Europe, especially East Europe, and with the Indian sub-continent.

Sheikh Nahed sipped his chilled wine, and then inhaled from the arguile and
blew out a cloud of smoke. With him sat Sheikh Fares, the owner of The
Palace.

"So, you tell me," Fares said, "that young Hamed is interested?"

"The boy seems so, Fares," Nahed said. "Can we arrange something for this
evening?"

"We certainly can, with the will of the Almighty. Bring him over and I will
personally see to it that we present to him the best of our products, my
friend."

"This is so kind of you, Fares," Nahed smiled, inhaling smoke from the
arguile pipe.

"Also, there is a special package for you that I have sent earlier. Arrived
last evening from Budapest. I am certain that you will like it."

Sheikh Nahed knew that there was going to be a very steep price to pay for
all of this, but it was quite worth it. He had to take care of his nephew's
needs, and he had never been frugal in that regard.

Besides, a new sexy light-skinned boy from Europe made his balls stir with
anticipation.

"Where are we going?" the young prince asked Omar the eunuch as Omar helped
him with his silk robe. "It must be so special that Uncle Nahed had sent me
this new dishdash. It feels so soft. I wish I could wear it on my naked
body."

Omar laughed. "You are getting to be quite naughty, Highness," he said as
he ran his hands over the silken robe, appreciating the boy's slender and
firm physique.

Hamed grabbed the eunuch's crotch and squeezed. "Yes, eunuch, very
naughty."

He looked at Omar and smiled sadly, rubbing on the eunuch's crotch. "But I
wish Robert was here, Omar."

"Oh, my prince. Forget about that English infidel."

Hamed squeezed the balls he was fondling hard, an angry look shooting at
the slave eunuch. "Don't ever call Robert infidel. He is my love."

Omar grunted and tried to step back. "Yes, highness. I never will call him
infidel."

Hamed let go of the balls and turned to look at the mirror. "I like the way
I look, Omar." He grabbed his own crotch and continued: "And I know how
much you love this equipment."

"Yes, your highness," Omar said, his balls aching.

It was the first time the young prince went to The Place. He was struck by
both the lavishness of the establishment and the attention of the
staff. His uncle was already there standing next to Sheikh Fahed, the
owner.

"Sheikh Hamed," Fahed greeted the boy, planting two kisses on each of the
boy's fuzzy cheeks. "My, you have grown up to be a fine young man," he
added, winking to Sheikh Nahed.

"Yes, he is," Nahed said, wrapping the boy's shoulders with one arm. "And
quite a man," he winked back.

Hamed turned beet red. But there was a tingling in his balls at the
compliments of the two powerful and rich sheikhs. He was soon led to a
fancy hall with six or seven velvet armchairs lined next to some sort of a
catwalk covered with a red carpet. The music was low and Western, with a
slow beat. The lights were dim, accentuating the mood of the place. There
were refreshments and fruits laid out on tables next to one of the walls
and Hamed noticed bottles in buckets of ice. Those must be Champaign, Hamed
thought, remembering how Robert used to help him sip the sparkling wine and
how it stung on his tongue and how Robert would then suck his tongue. He
felt like crying.

They took their seats, the prince, and the two sheikhs, as Omar took a
position near the door. There were three young boys in loincloths standing
next to the refreshments table waiting for the orders.

 Hamed slowly sipped the offered wine, making sure not to gulp it down and
end up becoming dizzy, just as Robert had warned him. He really wanted to
cry.

There was some small talk for about fifteen minutes, when a spotlight hit
the red curtain at one end of the catwalk. Out walked a young man in
sporting clothes. Hamed gazed. Not a man. A boy, probably almost his own
age or even younger. He was tall, some 180 centimeters, with dirty blond
hair and green eyes. He looked very handsome as he walked towards
Hamed. But there was no smile on his face.

"Igor," a voice from the speakers hidden somewhere in the hall echoed. "13
years old, 178 cms, 50 kgs, from Hungary. Igor loves swimming in the nude."

Igor walked slowly to the other end and then back and behind the curtain.

"Abdul," the voice said as the spotlight hit the second youngster emerging
from behind the curtain. He was wearing fashionable hunting khakis. ""Abdul
is 15 years old, 175 cms, 52 kgs, from Afghanistan."

Hamed watched the young man. In contrast to the Hungarian, Abdul had dark
skin, smooth black hair and black eyes. He also looked very handsome.

Some 22 young men and boys marched in front of Hamed and his uncle. All of
them were extremely handsome.

"Now for the swim wear," the speakers announced.

The young men-boys, or rather the models as Hamed thought they were,
marched onto the catwalk in a line, one after the other, in all kinds of
swim suits. The naked torsos looked very sexy, and the bulges quite
pronounced.

Hamed was trying to remember who was wearing what and which outfit he
should choose. He had no idea!

A new boy followed the 22 others, except this one looked special. He wore a
white dishdash, but dear Almighty! He was naked underneath it. The lighting
from behind showed his silhouetted body, slender, tall, and sporting what
Hamed thought of as a snake protruding from under his flat stomach where
his penis should be.

"This is Rasheed from Turkmenstan. Arrived last night. 185 cms, 50 kgs, 26
cms."

Hamed wondered about the 26 centimeters. Could it be the size of the boy's
dick? His own just reached twenty. He knew that his uncle's was a couple of
centimeters bigger. But 26? No, it couldn't be! What else was it? This
measurement was not announced for any of the other boys.

Hamed noticed his uncle leaning towards Sheikh Fahed and whispering
something in his ear. Hamed wondered.

At a nod from Fahed, the loudspeaker boomed. "Rasheed."

The turk boy stepped down from the sidewalk and stood next to Hamed. Not a
snake! A cock! And huge! The young prince licked his lower lip, his own
penis stirring and starting to tent his silken robe.

"Do you like him?" Sheikh Nahed asked the boy. "He is yours."

"Mine, uncle?" Hamed was incredulous. What did his uncle mean, his?

"Yes, Hamed, my boy. He comes back with us to your tent and spends the
night with you. If you like him, that is." With this, Nahed reached out and
touched the snake-penis outlined under the dishdash.

"All yours."

Hamed couldn't believe his ears. It suddenly dawned on him. Rasheed is a
slave? This is a slave market? Not fashion? Was he to choose which boy to
buy? All of this flashed inside Hamed's head.

This was how his uncle had amassed such a sexy and impressive boy-harem,
and Rasheed was going to be the first one in his own!

Hamed was totally erect by now. He was almost delirious with lust. With
difficulty, he moved his eyes from one delicious boy to another. He felt
his mouth dry up and he swallowed hard. He reached for the wine and sipped
a little, feeling dizzy, but definitely not from the wine.

"Can I also have the Hungarian?" Hamed asked his uncle, now that he knew
why they were here.

Nahed whispered to Fahed. It sounded like some kind of bargaining between
the two sheikhs, until finally Fahed nodded, and Igor stepped down from the
catwalk and stood next to Rasheed.

"Igor. 22 cms," boomed the loudspeakers.

Igor was wearing a tight pair of Speedos and his man bulge promised a lot
of fun. Hamed's erection started to hurt.

When they left The Place, or rather the slave market, the two boys, fully
clothed, followed.

Hamed and his uncle got into one of the limousines waiting for them
outside, Omar and their "purchases" into the second one.

"Well?" Nahed smiled at his nephew, his hand on the boy's thigh, once they
were inside the limo.

"Oh, thank you, Uncle. You are the best." Hamed leant over and kissed his
uncle on his cheek.

Nahed brought his hand up to grab the prince's genitals. "You will have
great fun tonight," he said, massaging the young boy's penis.

The three boys entered the tent, Hamed in front, the two slaves behind him,
and Omar bringing up the rear. Reaching the center of the tent, Hamed
turned and ordered Omar to leave them. The eunuch smiled knowingly, bowed,
and left.

"Omar," the young prince shouted before the eunuch disappeared. "No
peeking!"

"Yes, Highness."

"Sit," the prince ordered the boys as he reclined on the cushions. The boys
sat on the carpet facing the prince.

Hamed had been thinking during the ride back with his uncle. These were his
first two slaves. But how could he look at them as slaves? They were his
age. They were amazingly handsome. And they were unlucky! Did Hamed really
want to spend his adult life like his uncle? Buying boy slaves, fucking
them, and then getting new ones? Over and over? Hamed wanted more of his
life.

He gazed at the slaves, sitting silently like statues. No, he didn't want
statues. Robert was not a statue.

"Disrobe," the prince said, detecting a little shake in his voice and
hating himself for it.

The slaves stood and stripped. Oh, my Almighty, they were incredibly
beautiful. Lust stirred in the prince's loins. He could do anything he
wanted with these slaves. Anything. But they would still be statues.

"Sit down," the prince said with less of a regal voice and more with a
friendly tone. "Igor?"

"Yes, Highness." Igor's eyes were focused on the carpet.

"Igor, look at me."

The Hungarian boy looked up and stared at the prince with glassy eyes. Dear
Almighty, Hamed reacted. This slave was broken. Could he break the
façade and look inside into the real Igor? But this was not what slaves
were for. They were at his beck and call to do with them as he wished. What
he wished, however, was company. Sex, of course, but also company. Robert
had provided both, in plenty. Hamed ached.

"Igor, how did you get to be here?"

Hamed thought that he saw a flicker, a glint in the boy's eyes. But it
faded fast back to the glassy look.

"My father, your highness, sold me."

"Your father?" Hamed couldn't believe his ears. How could a father be so
cruel. The Hungarian nodded, the look on his face changing into one of
simmering anger. "But why?" the prince inquired.

"They used to call me 'pretty boy'. Ever since he and my uncle raped me
when I was 8 years old. My father said that I could bring him a lot of
money as a pretty prostitute, especially to a rich prince, your highness."
There was a kind of a challenging look in the slave's eyes.

Gracious Almighty, how could these things happen? Hamed's heart went out to
the boy. He wanted to hug him, to ease his fear and pain. To be raped by
your own father, this must have been even more painful than losing your own
father, as Hamed had.

"Come, sit next to me."

Igor, naked, sat next to the young prince.

"You are my slave, Igor," Hamed said. "My uncle has paid for you to become
mine. You understand this, right?"

The Hungarian nodded, misery written all over his face, not meeting the
prince's eyes.

"But I want you to be a happy slave," Hamed continued. "I don't have any
need for a sad one. Unless you are happy here, I cannot keep you and must
return you to Sheikh Fahed and get a refund."

"I don't want to be a slave, your highness. Not a happy one. Not a sad
one," the Hungarian said in a low voice, returning his look back to the
carpet in front of him.

He had arrived in the princedom in tattered clothes, dirty and smelling. He
hadn't know that his father had actually sold him. Sheikh Fahed told him
this. He was cleaned and clothed and fed. Sheikh Fahed had even given him
money: 2000 dirhams. He had not had any idea how much that would amount to.

But two thousand of anything was enormous for him. The other boys had
explained to him what the business was all about. He had been shocked at
first, but later had accepted his fate. After all he was no virgin. At
least, here, he would get some money. Now he was the slave of a very rich,
very handsome young prince.

Hamed thought: The boy was right. People should not be sold and bought. But
the boy was his.

"Look, Igor. By all rights, you are my slave. But I will not treat you as
one. You will be my companion.

My pleasure will come from your pleasure. But for all other purposes, you
are my slave, especially in front of Omar the eunuch and my uncle. Do we
have a deal?"

Hamed knew that he was losing a lot of his power over Igor. But he could
not bring himself to treat this beautiful young man as his own father had
treated him. He started to realize that he was growing up in more aspects
than one. A man was not measured by the size of his penis.

"A deal, your highness," the Hungarian brightened.

All of a sudden, Igor leaned and planted a light kiss on Hamed's lips.

Hamed's heart raced. This was more like it. These were warm, human
lips. This was a warm, human body. No statue. He pulled Igor to him and the
two young boys went at each other's mouths hungrily.

Rasheed was watching all this while squatting naked on the carpet, not
uttering a sound.

Hamed broke the kiss. Igor's cock stood at more than 8 inches up,
uncircumcised. Just like Robert's.

Hamed was dying to gobble on this cock, but he restrained himself and
turned to Rasheed.

"And you? Rasheed? What's your story? Come sit beside me and tell me."

Rasheed didn't need any goading now that he was more comfortable after he
witnessed how Hamed had treated Igor.

"I am virgin," Rasheed confessed, groping Hamed's crotch. I have never been
with man or woman. I sold myself so my brother can continue his education
to become a doctor and save my mother's health."

Rasheeed slid his hand under the prince's robe and found an erecting
penis. His own was semi-erect and he marveled at the sensations from his
hand as he felt the throbbing cock. Even half-hard, Rasheed's cock was
bigger than any of the two other cocks.

Hamed reciprocated by reaching for the fast erecting dark monster cock. On
cue, Igor leaned over and started kissing and licking the prince's neck,
his hand running over the prince's bare chest now that the dishdash had
been gotten rid off. The three boys were naked, hard, and full of young
lust.

Hamed treated the two slaves as crystal. They treated him as
king. Throughout the night, they glorified each other with sex, both
experienced and initiated. Hamed's hottest moment was when he broke
Rasheed's virgin ass. Igor assisted him by preparing Rasheed's hole with
his tongue and fingers, then by guiding Hamed's rock-hard cock into the
tight virgin boy-hole. Rasheed took the fucking bravely, slightly
whimpering at the initial penetration.

The night was so blissful that Robert's image started to fade from Hamed's
young head as the morning broke. Another day. Another life.

Omar found the three boys deep asleep in each others' arms, naked and
spent, as he brought in breakfast.