Date: Tue, 24 Feb 2004 17:35:59 -0800 (PST)
From: Flyboy <jetjockboy@yahoo.com>
Subject: Dont Get Caught - Chapter IX

Once again, thanks to everyone who took the time to
read this.
As always, your emails are welcomed and appreciated:
jetjockboy@yahoo.com
I try to answer all emails when I can.  Due to my
present job/whereabouts, my internet usage can be
somewhat sporadic. Promise I will write back when I
can.


In another part of the palace, Nigel watched
fascinated by the events taking place. He watched as
the slave calmly twisted the prison doctor's neck as
if he'd done it a thousand times before, He heard the
slave in English, very American English, say `shut the
fuck up', with a manor of nonchalance that was
disturbing.

Nigel was riveted to the screen as he watched the
slave walk towards his bed and make it up, very
fastidiously. The slave then closed the lid on the
piano keys, put away all stray items from the cell and
entered the shower. Nigel reached for one of the
medical books on his shelf, he read through one of the
chapters, smiled to himself and nodded his head.

********************************************************


Rick got out of the shower, dried himself off, walked
over to the piano and sat on the bench. He took the
lid off the keys and sat there staring at them. He
knew he was not going to play, he knew there were no
songs inside him right now. But he sat and stared at
the keys as if they were the most wondrous things on
the planet.

It was quiet in his cell, he was alone, clean, and
everything had been tidied. There was no reason to
move, to think, to do anything at all. He breathed
some nice deep breaths, as he remembered that only a
few days ago those same breaths would have been way
too painful. It felt good to breathe again with no
pain. It felt good again to not hurt. His thoughts
were interrupted by the sound of the outer door to the
cell opening. He looked up to see Nigel enter with two
large guards. "This can't be good", he thought.

Nigel looked over at Rick sitting on the piano bench,
he then motioned to the guards who entered the inner
cell and dragged the doctor's dead body out. Nigel
entered the cell and sat down at the chair on which
the Emir usually sat. He pat the bed as he looked at
Rick. Rick understood the motion, walked over to the
bed and sat down at its edge.

As soon as Rick sat down, Nigel got up and retrieved
the chastity device. He walked over to the seated
slave and looked at him questioningly.

"I don't struggle you", Rick said in English, he
nodded his head toward the device, "It's ok".

Nigel attached the device with no struggle; he also
cuffed the slave's hands to his belt, and leashed him
to the wall so that the slave could not leave the bed.
When finished, Nigel sat back down on the Emir's
chair.

He leaned in closely to the slave before beginning to
speak, "Now we must talk."

Rick shrugged, "Ok"

"Do you want to begin?"

"Begin what? To talk?"

"Yes, begin to talk."

"About what?"

Nigel looked more stern, "You know what about. Stop
playing. You killed a man today."

"He was not a man. And so what? What we have to talk
about. You put him here, I kill him. Ok. You're
welcome."

"Welcome?" Nigel was incredulous, "You KILLED some
one. Do you understand? Slaves don't run around
killing people."

Rick looked surprised, "Oh"

Nigel could not believe it, "Oh is all you have to
say?"

"Really, I don't know what to say. I thought you put
him here for me to do it. You know, because what use
to be my...." Ricks sentence trailed off and he looked
down at the floor, "My...um".

"Your former occupation?"

Rick looked up and half nodded, half shrugged.

Nigel shook his head in disbelief and smiled at the
same time, Rick had no idea what that meant. Nigel
spoke again, "Anyway, the Emir has left for a few
days, and he has left you in my charge."

Rick's eyes got bigger as he listened. Nigel
continued, "Don't' worry, chap, Emir was quite clear
about what we could and could not do together. Your
beloved cherry is safe."

Rick breathed a sigh of relief.

"Don't be so relieved so soon, chap, "Nigel remarked,
"Perhaps you'll be begging me to do that so as to
spare you from other things." Nigel laughed as he held
up a hypodermic needle, "Now do be a good boy and give
me your arm."

"What is it?" Rick demanded as moved slightly to get
away from the needle moving towards his arm.

"It does not matter what it is. Now hold still or I
will have you held still. Already you are going to
wish you hadn't struggled, stop now, or just keep
struggling and make my day. Your choice."

Rick allowed Nigel to give him the shot. Almost
immediately, blackness ensued.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Rick opened his eyes immediately upon feeling the cold
water hit his body; it was Nigel, tossing a bucket of
water on him.

"Nap time is over, chap", he laughed.


It was not for a few seconds that Rick finally felt
the pain of his bondage, His hands were tied way above
his head to one of the rafters in his cell, so that he
could barely stand, his legs were held apart, and
there was a pain in his balls like he'd never felt
before. He tried to look down to assess his situation,
and was assaulted by pain in his chain...he'd been
collared in such a way that pins would stick him
unless he kept his head up. He groaned and realized
that Nigel was watching intently. He looked up at
Nigel, helpless.

Nigel smiled that fake evil smile that Rick was
starting to dread and spoke, "Oh yes, good attempt to
give me the puppy dog wide eyes. That may work on the
Emir, little chap, but it will certainly NOT work on
me. In fact it just makes me want to hurt you even
more."

Just then Rick noticed the wires in Nigel's hand, the
wires that led to the box in the wall....

"ARRRRRRGGGHHHHH!!!!" Rick screamed and jumped as much
as the restraints would allow as he felt the charge
hit his balls. Whatever it was that was making his
nuts feel crushed and pained also seemed to be an
excellent conductor of electricity.

"A vice, chappy."

"A what?" Rick hissed through gritted teeth.

"A vice. On your balls, bet it feels nasty, all
crunched up as they are. Do you know what the word
`vice' means, chap?"

"I do now."

"Good for you, for the rest of your life, I'll be
teaching all sorts of words and phrases you never
knew. Although my price for tutoring is quite steep"
Just then Rick felt another blast of electricity hit
him as he screamed and felt the tears well up.

Nigel was taking his pants off, and started to play
with his cock, "You know what else conducts
electricity, chap?"

Rick screamed again as another jolt hit first his
balls, and traveled up to his head. It felt like the
electricity traveled inside rather than outside his
body. Nigel spoke again more sternly, "You will answer
when asked a question. Now ANSWER."

Rick was panting, sweat was dripping down his body, as
he struggled to speak, "I don't...remember." He shook
his head a little.

"Let me help you remember the question", Nigel applied
the wires to his victim's body and held them there
while he watched Rick struggle and scream, "What else
helps to conduct electricity? Surely you know this
one, Mr. Bond."

Rick screamed, "Fuck you!!! I don't know already. Just
fucking do it.!!!"

Nigel was calm, "Well for some one not totally fluent
in English, I must say you know all the best words.
Let me help you", Nigel began to piss all over Rick,
"It's water, Mr. Bond. Ha ha. Enjoy the shower." Nigel
applied the wires once more as Rick began to scream
and suddenly slumped over, passing out from the pain.

Nigel uncuffed Rick's hands from the rafters, and
pulled him down, dragging his body over to the cell
bars, where he set the slave on his knees and cuffed
his hands to the bars. Then he applied the smelling
salts.

Rick shook his head as he came to. He looked around
and realized he'd been moved. If front of his face was
Nigel's cock. He looked up into Nigel's eyes. Nigel
spoke.

"You know what you're to do now. My god man, and it's
your fault too I am so hot right now." Rick moved his
pelvis towards Rick's face. "Get on with it."

Rick opened his mouth and tried not to think about
what was happening. Soon, Nigel was grabbing his head
and thrusting Rick's whole body into the cell bars.
Rick just kept his mouth open and moved his tongue,
hoping Nigel would get off quickly. Rick felt Nigel's
body begin to tighten while his cock went rock rigid
and knew what was coming next. He held still and tried
not to think about the cum that was spurting down his
throat. He wondered how long it would be like this,
how long until the Emir returned.

Nigel pushed Rick's face away and sat down panting and
smiling, "Oh yes, that was simply wonderful. Just
fantastic. Now that I feel so much better, we can
continue more slowly." He got up and kissed Rick's
head.

Rick was leaning over, as far as his chains would
allow and breathing softly but quickly. He saw Nigel
walk toward the back of the cell and he heard the
water running, but it was not until Nigel arrived with
a bucket that Rick realized he was going to get wet
again.

The water was cold and it made Rick feel a little
better, more alive and more clean.

Rick looked up at Nigel and spoke, "May I use the
bathroom?"

"For what purpose?"

"The usual?"

Nigel smiled. "I have a better idea. I am going to
unchain you from the bars of this cell and I am going
to place you over my lap. You will comply or I will
knock you out again with the needle and you will wake
up over my lap. No funny business, you hear me?"

Rick squinted his eyes, "Or what? You'll punish me?
Fuck you!"

Now Nigel was angry, "I was going to give you a nice
schoolboy spanking, but now you're really in for it."
He motioned to the guards and three of them grabbed
Rick by the leash, hands and feet, dragged him over to
the table, and restrained him sideways, face down on
the table, feet on the floor, hands stretched to
either side.

Nigel drew the cane against Rick's face, "Ever tried
one? They are so much fun. I know, let's make it a
game. I will give you...hmmmm...fifty, yes fifty
strokes. Every once in a while I will ask you how
many, if you get it right, I'll knock off the last
five. If you get it wrong, I will add the number you
give me to your final count. Won't that be fun?"

With that Rick heard the cane whip through the air and
land squarely on his ass. The pain didn't start
immediately, but when it came, it was worse than Rick
imagined it could be. Suddenly his heart jumped into
his throat, his eyes welled with tears he could not
stop from flowing. He was done, mentally done. He
wanted out, home, away from here. He began to scream
and struggle in his bonds with all his might, but to
no avail. The more unsuccessful he was in his
struggle, the harder he struggled. The blows from the
cane kept coming as he screamed, cried, shouted at
Nigel and tore his own skin in order to escape his
bonds.

"How Many?" Nigel yelled to him.

Rick calmed for a minute and took a deep breath, "23"

Nigel raised his eyebrows, "Well, I must say I am
impressed. Twenty-three, on the nose. Didn't expect
that, what with you coming all unhinged like that.
Take some advice, chap. Just relax and it will be over
soon. You're making me so crazy, I am going to have to
take you...with or without the Emir's permission."

At the sound of the last threat, Rick calmed himself.
There was so much pain on his ass, his back, and his
thighs that he was unable to feel any more strokes.
Once again, Nigel stopped.

"How many, chap?"

"40"

"Hm. Amazing. Again you've got it right. Uncanny.
You're the first ever. You know what this means?"

"You ask me two times...and so five each one is ten...and
minus from fifty is forty and already you did forty."

"Bad English, but good math. But there is the ten
stroke penalty."

"Penalty? Why?"

"For spontaneous pissing, chap. Automatic ten stroke
penalty. Do you think James Bond would have pissed
himself standing?"

"James Bond is not real."

"Neither are you."

Rick felt Nigel unchain one of his legs and chain it
so that it was touching the other. He didn't move, the
pain and fatigue too much on his mind. He then felt
Nigel touch his shoulders, and something...something
poking between his legs. He groaned when he realized
what it was.

"The Emir is lucky I obey him, but chap, really I
ought to be shagging you right now. Just stand still."

Rick laid there as Nigel humped between his legs, too
tired to move, too disgusted to speak.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Three days later, the Emir returned. He walked into
his quarters and saw Nigel waiting on the bed. The
Emir kissed his friend softly.

"How is the slave?"

Nigel was angry, "The slave? What about me? How am I?
How is the Emirate? Or your wives and children?"

"Do not take that tone with me. I have been very busy
at work and I want to relax with my new toy and I want
to know how he is."

"Emir, I am sitting on your bed, naked. Waiting for
you, as I have done for the past three days. I am
sorry for my tone. But I am frustrated. Don't you love
me anymore?"

"Listen to you!! WOMAN!! I don't come home to hear
this. I just want relaxation and fun. If you cannot be
fun, then go elsewhere."

"Emir, I have something you need to see. I was going
to wait and show you later, but you're so intent on
knowing how the slave is, I think you should see it
now."

The Emir sat down on the couch, "OK show me."

Nigel played the tape of the prison doctor's demise.
All the time, the Emir remained silent. When the tape
finished, the Emir remained wordless for some time.

Finally Nigel broke the silence, "Emir, this man, this
slave, has some problems. I think you need to get rid
of him."

"Why was the prison doctor put in that cell? I didn't
order that."

"I put him there, I just wanted to see what would
happen."

"You put him there? To amuse yourself." The Emir was
angry and getting more angry by the moment.

"Well, yes, true, but look...you saw what happened."

"Yes, I did, " He turned angrily to Nigel, "And I do
not blame the slave for it."

Nigel wriggled to get out of the hole he dug for
himself "Look Emir, have you ever heard of Post
Traumatic Stress Disorder?"

"Yes I have, why? Are you trying to tell me that my
slave is mentally defective?"

"Emir, I am telling you he's dangerous and
unpredictable. He's a classic case of this disorder;
trauma, followed by mood swings, unpredictable
behavior, sleeping problems, nightmares. Classic."

The Emir shrugged, "Probably what makes him good at
what he did. Let's count on it."

"What?" Nigel was puzzled.

"What he used to do for them, I want him to do for me.
I need men like him working for me, for us."

"He'll never work for you."

"Yes he will, he will realize we both want the same
thing."

Nigel shook his head, "Emir, you should kill him now.
Before he kills you."

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

The Israeli Prime Minister arrived 10 minutes early
for his interview on Al-Salam TV, accompanied by the
finest protection service officers in the world. He
and his entourage were quietly led to the studio,
amongst angry and hostile stares from the employees.

Although Al-Salam TV was produced in a nearby country,
most of the employees were Palestinian, as were most
of the viewers. The Prime Minister took every
opportunity he could to show himself on this station,
hoping that if the viewers were to hear it from `the
horses mouth' perhaps they would believe that this
Prime Minister was truly interested in peace, and
equally as interested in eliminating anyone who
detracted from the peace process. He appeared whenever
he was invited, his only stipulation was that the
interviews were conducted live, so that they would not
be cut in a manner unflattering to himself and the
people he represented.

The journalist to interview him today was also
friendly to the cause of peace, and friendly to the
Israeli point of view, having married an Israeli, a
close friend of the Prime Minister's family.

The Mossad agents protecting the Prime Minister stood
just out of the camera's reach, but close enough to
pounce in a second, should trouble arise. The crews
went about their business as Jasmine Nadir entered the
room.

The Prime Minister watched as the elegant and
confident woman walked toward him. She was the picture
of the modern Arab woman, shoulder length dark hair,
just enough make up to enhance her lovely facial
features, and a figure any woman would envy, belying
the fact that she had given birth to two children. He
stood and extended his hand, "Ms. Nadir, thank you for
inviting me, you look lovely today."

Jasmine smiled and shook hands, "Thank you, and if you
are going to call me Ms. Nadir, then I think I should
call you Mr. Prime Minister."

The Prime Minister smiled, "I guess that did sound
strange, Jasmine. I am just preparing for when the
cameras roll."

Jasmine smiled again, it was a genuine, and confident
smile. One for which she was quite well known, "It's
all right Micah."

Micah Rachman, Prime Minster of Israel, gave the
reporter a hug, "How are the boys?"

Jasmine shrugged, "They miss their father." Just then
she looked up and got the sign from her producer. She
looked back at Rachman, "Sixty seconds."

The two sat in their chairs and waited for the cue to
begin.

The music started then stopped and Jasmine began,
"Welcome to the show ladies and gentlemen. I am
Jasmine Nadir, your host, and with me today is some
one I know you all recognize, Micah Rachman, Prime
Minister of Israel. Prime Minister Rachman began his
life of public service in the Israeli Army, moving up
the ladder, eventually becoming a general, minister of
defense, and now Prime Minister." She turned to her
guest, "Welcome Prime Minister."

The Prime Minister smiled, "Thank you, Ms. Nadir for
having me, and thank you to all the viewers watching.
The only way we can understand one another is through
dialogue, listening, speaking, and exchanging ideas."

Jasmine began her questions, "Mr. Rachman, why do you
think you were elected, winning over your opponent,
the former Prime Minister, in a landslide victory?"

"I think its because the people want peace, and they
are willing to do what it takes. With the recent death
of the self appointed Palestinian leader, hopefully
the terrorism he supported will also die, and we can
come to peaceful relations with our neighbors. Our
people elected me to send a message, a message that we
will make all the concessions we need to in order to
have peace, but we will stand for nothing less than
true peace."

"How do you know what is true peace?"

"What do you mean?"

"How do you know that the new leader of the
Palestinians will be more or less genuine than our
previous leader?"

"We have faith."

"Don't you also have spies?"

"Spies?"

"Yes. Spies in most Arab countries, posing as
citizens. A lot of whom are trained killers. Killers
whose objective is to get rid of hostile leaders. Is
that not right?"

"We protect ourselves, just as any other country does.
America, Great Britain, Germany, etc."

"And what about the spies who are caught?"

"Ms. Nadir, this is internal Israeli business which we
do not discuss out of the country."

Jasmine Nadir smiled into the camera as the music
began, "I am afraid that is all the time we have
today. Thank you so much Mr. Prime Minister."

The Prime Minister smiled back, "Anytime. It was a
pleasure."

As soon as they were off the air, the Prime Minister
jumped out of his chair, furious, "What was the
meaning of that?"

Jasmine was equally as angry,  "You damn well know. I
have been trying to call you for weeks and you've been
ignoring me. Finally, I had the station call to set up
this interview; it was the only way I could get to
you. Now you can tell me what I want to know."

"Listen Ms. Nadir...."

"Mrs. Brandes, you can call me Mrs. Brandes."

"Look, Ricky is fine. He's closing in on his objective
and I am sure he'll be home soon. Ok?"

"Don't patronize me. I know he's not ok. He always
finds a way to pass the information to me that he is
all right. And this time it's different. I know it. I
want him out of wherever he is. He needs help and you
know it, He does not need to be killing anyone. He
needs to be some where he can rest...and heal."

"Jasmine, I promise you, like I promised you before we
sent him off, this is the last one. He will come home
and I will let him go. I give you my word."

"Your word. Just get out of here. And I am telling
you, if you don't call me in one week to tell me my
husband is coming home I will write more things about
your government than anyone would ever care to know. I
mean it."

"Jasmine, I promise." And with that, the Prime
Minister and his entourage left.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

An angry and rattled Prime Minister hurried into his
awaiting helicopter. His aide, Sharon Weitzman was
waiting.

"How did it go?", asked the pretty, petite, young
brunette.

"Shitty, ok?". The Prime Minister growled as he
reached for the scotch bottle

Sharon watched her uncle, the Prime Minister, as he
drank two large Scotches, straight up. She'd known her
uncle all her life and she knew that his temper was
large and short lived. She'd seen him grow from thin,
black haired and shy to larger than life, with a girth
to match, a full head of grey hair, and a determined
look in his eye. From small time IDF officer to Prime
Minister. And she took it upon herself, with her law
degree and love for her uncle in hand, to be by his
side and help him however she could.

"What happened, uncle?"

The Prime Minister grimaced, "Jasmine Nadir Brandes.
It just shows they can't be trusted. None of them."

"None of whom? Women? News Reporters?"

"Arabs."

"Oh uncle, really. Don't say things like that. Some
one will hear you. Anyway, what did she do?"

"She's trying to find out where Ricky is."

"You can't blame her for that, she's his wife, it has
nothing to do with being Arab or Jewish or anything
else. Anyway, where is he?"

"Shit if I know. I told Alicia, his grandmother, that
he was ok, living in the West Bank with his family. If
Jasmine starts making noise and Alicia finds out I
lied, it's over. I am screwed."

"Uncle, just one question. With all you've told me,
and knowing how many trained Mossad agents we've got,
why did you send him and not some one else?"

Micah Rachman sighed as he licked the last drop of
scotch off the glass before the flight attendant took
it, "Because he's the best."

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Rick ignored the pain in his back, legs, thighs,
backside and everywhere else and sat at the piano,
again staring at the keys. He thought about the piano
in his house in Cuba, the one his great grandfather
had imported from Spain for his mother when she was a
girl. He thought about how happy his mother looked
whenever she played. And her joy at being able to give
her son the gift of music.

He thought about his grandmother, his request when he
came to live there to have a piano and her response,
"You don't need to be a musician or hang around them.
They are all morally corrupt and they smoke drugs.
Stay with your own kind, Israel." It was not until
years later that he finally understood the socially
elite term `your own kind' meant the wealthy.

His thoughts were interrupted by a noise at the door.
He looked up to see the Emir enter and he smiled.
Happy to see his slave smile, the Emir smiled back.

Rick started to get up, the Emir stopped him, "No,
don't get up, slave. Play me something."

Rick was a little surprised "Yes? Master?"

The Emir came around the piano and sat down next to
his slave, "Yes, slave, play."

"OK, what would you like to hear, Master?"

"I don't know. Um...something western. Something
contemporary."

"OK". Rick began to play and sing "Piano Man"

The Emir was amazed. The slave was good, really good,
he sang beautifully, and he looked happy when he
played.

When the song was finished, Rick sat at the piano,
face forward, hands on the keys, as if he was in a
trance. It had been a long time since he'd played, too
long. He really missed playing music and the more he
thought about it, the more he started to become
emotional.

"Play another." The Emir encouraged him.

Rick played `As Time Goes By' from the movie
Casablanca. Again the Emir was in awe. At the
completion of the song, the Emir gave Rick a kiss on
his head.

"Play one more."

This time Rick played a classical piece by Vivaldi

"Slave, I am amazed. Nothing usually amazes me, but I
have to tell you, you did. You are a wonderful
musician and you have the voice of an angel. Why
didn't you become a musician?"

Rick shook his head and looked down, "Long story,
Master, but at the time it was not on option."

The Emir took Rick's hand, "Come, I need to relax
tonight." The Emir led the slave over to the bed,
grabbed the blindfold that he had placed there and put
it over the slave's head. Rick did not struggle.

The Emir spoke, "The blindfold, sorry for that, it's a
security measure. I am taking you somewhere special,
you will see when we get there. But hold on to me, I
will make sure you don't trip or walk into something."

"Yes Master."

The Emir took Rick's hand and led him, as one would
lead a blind person, down the many corridors and steps
to his private chambers. He laid Rick on the bed, on
his side and cuffed his hands to the headboard. All
the while, Rick made no effort to resist, he was too
busy counting turns and steps on the walking journey.

At last the blindfold was removed. Rick gasped,
although he'd grown up privileged, he'd never seen
such an opulent room in his life. The ceilings were
gold, the wallpaper was gold and rich red, the
tapestries on the walls were centuries old, everything
was done in a grand way in homage to the history of
the Emir's nation.

A voice from behind startled him, "Yes, it's quite
beautiful, isn't it."

"Yes Master, I've never seen anything like this,
except maybe for a movie set or something."

The Emir sat on the bed behind Rick and began to rub
his back.

"Turn on your stomach" The Emir's voice was stern.

Rick complied. The Emir looked over the wounds Rick
had garnered over the past three days.

"Who did this to you? No, don't answer. I know who did
it." Rick sighed relief, the Emir was angry with
Nigel, not him. "Does it hurt much?"

"Honestly, Master, yes it does." Rick looked over to
see the Emir reach into a drawer and pull put some
cream. He rubbed it on the wounds and Rick started to
feel better. "Thank you, Master."

The Emir was still angry, "That was uncalled for. The
whole thing, the doctor, the whipping, all of it. I am
sorry he did this to you. This is my palace and if
whipping is to be done, it is done by me or by my
order. You did nothing to merit this."

Rick turned over and faced the Emir. He moved as if he
was going to kiss him and stopped suddenly, "I am
sorry, you probably don't want me to...."

"Yes I do." And the two men kissed passionately, while
the Emir stroked Rick's pained body. Both men felt the
other's body heat rise and heartbeats get faster. Just
as suddenly, Rick turned on his back and lifted his
legs so his knees were in the air and his feet flat on
the bed. He looked at the Emir and smiled.

The Emir was surprised and pleased by his slave's
action. He spoke, "Are you sure you're ready?"

"Yes, Master." Rick bit his lip and then smiled again.

The Emir ran his hands up and down Rick's body, as his
slave's breath became ragged. "You've surprised me...and
pleased me." They kissed again.

The Emir removed Rick's chastity device and was
pleased to see that the slave's cock was at full
attention, the same as his own. The Emir got up and
sat down in between Rick's legs, the slaves cock
quivered, and he could see the slave's body was
covered with goose bumps. The Emir leaned over and
they kissed again, this time it was slow and
passionate. The Emir blew in Rick's ear and he
groaned.

"One more thing, slave, "The Emir whispered in Rick's
ear, "What is your name?"

Rick bit his lower lip again and looked down, not
answering.

The Emir sat up and looked Rick in the eye, "Come on
now, we are about to do something very intimate and I
would like to call you something other than `slave',
now what is your name?"

"Rique"

"Ricky?"

"Rick."

The Emir cocked his head, "Hm, I would never have
figured you for a Rick. Well...maybe...ok, sure I can see
it. OK Rick. Here's the deal. Your hands stay cuffed
for now. Just relax and do as I say and I promise this
will be good. I will go slow and there will be no
pain, just pleasure. Ok?"

Rick's heart was pounding through his chest, he was
nervous, excited, and he wanted to believe what the
Emir was telling him, "OK Master, I will do the best I
can."

"That is all I ask."

Rick watched as the Emir opened his legs. He felt a
finger caress his anus and he groaned with pleasure,
the finger began to move inside him and he gasped,
"Stay loose" he said to himself.

"That's it, Rick, relax. First one finger, then two,
and when we are both ready, then it will be time.
Rick? Rick!"

"Yes Master?"

The Emir smiled, "Breathe, little one, breathe."

He didn't realize that he'd stopped breathing, but
upon command he started again. As the Emir's finger
made its way inside him, it became the sole point of
Rick's focus. As the finger made its way to Rick's
prostate, he let out a huge groan of pleasure.

The Emir laughed a little at his slave, "Rick, I am
going to cum just from watching you, stop it."

A serious look crossed the slave's face, "Oh wow, I am
sorry Master, what can I change?"

The Emir smiled, "I am teasing you, you're doing
great. Just relax. Let me play you like you played
that piano." He touched Rick's prostate again, and
Rick rolled his eyes back in his head.

Soon the one finger was replaced with two, and two
replaced with three and then it was time. The Emir put
some lube on himself, lifted Rick's legs in the air
and pressed his cock against Rick before entering.

Rick gasped and started to stiffen in anticipation.
"Come on now, Rick, relax." The Emir reached over and
pet Rick's hair, "And breathe, for God's sake."

Rick took a deep breath, relaxed and waited. The Emir
moved very slowly in and out, each time going a little
further: each time allowing his slave to adjust to the
sensations. He watched the slave's face closely for
any signs of pain or displeasure, but Rick looked
almost in a trance, groaning and moving his hips in a
way that suggested he wanted it all.

Finally, the Emir was in all the way. He thrust in and
out slowly and deliberately, hitting Rick's prostate
each time, Rick just moaned. The Emir watched his
slave groaning in pleasure, his hands bound above his
head, the heat of his body rising, his hips moving and
it was all he could do to keep from cumming.

The Emir increased his pace, faster and faster and
each thrust harder and harder, "Slave, you may cum
now." He pinched the slave's nipple.

That was all Rick needed to hear and feel. This orgasm
came from someplace deep inside, uncontrollable and
powerful, it started down at his legs and by the time
he started to cum, the feeling went all the way up his
body.

And that was all the Emir needed to see and feel as
well. Upon feeling the contractions in his slave's
body, he too, had a massive orgasm. He came and came
until he felt like he was depleted of all bodily
fluid, after which he flopped over and laid next to
his slave.

The two men laid together on their sides, facing one
another, spent, the Emir's arm over the slave, the
slave's face in the Emir's chest.

The Emir raised Rick's head up and kissed his
forehead, it was then he noticed the tears welling up
in the slave's eyes. The Emir hugged Rick close, "It's
ok, Rick."

Rick felt himself sobbing uncontrollably. It was as if
some one opened a door somewhere inside him and he
could not control his insides from spilling out. The
Emir held on to him and he cried like a baby.

The Emir spoke softly, "You see, you know what this
is, don't you? I already have your body. You know
this."

Rick nodded his head.

The Emir continued, "What I want now is all of you,
your body and your mind."

Rick nodded again while still crying. He moved his
head closer into the Emir's chest.

"Do I have it Rick? Body and mind?"

"Yes. Yes Master. Body and mind."

Finally, he was able to stop crying. The Emir pulled
back a little and gave Rick a kiss on the cheek. He
spoke, "And you are ready to do as I say?"

"Yes master."

"What if I told you to kill some one for me? You
would?

Rick looked dismayed, "Oh."

"What? What's wrong?"

"It's just...nothing Master. If you want me to, I will
kill for you."

"What is the hesitation?"

"I just...sorry...maybe a little disappointed, Master. I
thought with you...all that...other life...it would be over
and I would not have to do it anymore."

"You don't like killing, do you."

"No, but I am trained and I will do what you ask,
Master"

"What if I asked you to kill an Israeli?"

Rick started to speak and stopped, "I don't know. I
really don't know. I didn't...is there some one
already?"

The Emir hugged Rick, "Don't worry, I won't ask you to
do that." He looked at his slave silently for a few
minutes and spoke again,  "Ricardo?"

Rick shook his head, "Enrique"

"Ah, hence, `Ree-kay', as you pronounced it before. I
suppose you know my name."

"Yes Master."

"Well, I have one I like more. In college, in America,
they called me-"

"Luke, Master"

The Emir smiled, "I suppose you would know that, but
yes, they called me Luke."

"Very non Arabic, Master"

 "Yes, not Arabic." The Emir smiled as he uncuffed
Rick's hands from the headboard. Rick ran his newly
freed hands up and down the Emir's chest and the two
men kissed once more.

The Emir shook Rick's arm lightly and spoke again,
"Come, we'll shower and eat something, and maybe come
back here, ok?"

Rick got up, "Yes Master."