Date: Sun, 7 Mar 1999 20:33:39 EST
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: Sheik of Desire, Chapter 6

			    SHEIK OF DESIRE, #6
			       THE THIRD MAN

     Pavel walked with the men back to their mounts.  Not horses, he was
now able to see up close the peculiar animals he had seen from the air.
His talks with Jezreel had caused him to find a picture of camels, and
these beasts reminded him of camels, though they resembled camels only in
their large, ungainly appearance.
     Their legs were large and thin like a camels, though there was no
joint midway up, no "knee" like any Earth animal would possess.  They had
no discreet feet as such, either, the legs flaring out slowly into larger
pad-shaped clumps on the end.  Their fur was thick and lush, and they
looked soft to touch.
     Their backs were not humped like a camels, but in fact rather
swaybacked.  Their necks were broad as a horse's and about the same shape
and proportions, though this beast stood nearly twelve feet tall from
forefoot to top of the head.  Its face reminded Pavel of a grunkel; as it
had the same flaring trumpet-shaped snout, though this snout was far too
small to ever accommodate a human penis, and the narrow muzzle flared out
again to the bulbous head topped by triangular, pert ears.
     There were blankets atop some of these beasts, and after his dismal
experience atop the horse, Pavel was hoping he'd have a chance to ride one
of these creatures.  One of them was being led into position by one of the
men, and it moved its legs in a smooth, non-jerky motion.  Maybe it'd offer
his tender posterior a better ride.
     There were horses there, as well, though the horses were in the
minority, and some of these showed the mutation typical of the animals on
Desire.  In fact, you could see upon closer examination that the horse and
the peculiar pink beast were relatives, and the differences came from the
changes wrought by Desire on all its inhabitants.  Which left the mystery
of where the horses which were unchanged had come from.
     The horses were the mounts of royalty, he could see that now that he
had them to compare.  The gaudy saddle he and Jethro had ridden on lost its
luster compared to these saddles, while the pink animals were obvious the
mounts of the ordinary men of the ranks.
     It was the same with the tent where he was being led.  Taller and
larger than the others, it was also decorated in bright colors and trimmed
with golden tassels.  He was being led into the tent of a person of rank,
higher than Rashid.
     He was unprepared for the sight which greeted him.  Cushions were
again the only furniture, but these were colorful and even to his
inexperienced eye, of high quality material and weave.  Exotic designs
decorated most of them, but their finery was only the backdrop for the man
who reclined among them.
     Large, hairy and dark of hair and eye, his nose large and somewhat
rounded, with cheeks and chin long, giving him an oval face, his gaze
fastened upon Pavel with an aura of a man who has just made a very
satisfying purchase.  He did not say a word to Pavel, but instead stared
into Pavel's eyes until Pavel found himself being lost in that scrutiny.
The look deepened, and a small smile touched his lips.  He was garbed in
the white full-length garment, but this garment was decorated by a
sleeveless overgarment of deep blue with golden trim.  He wore the wrapped
turban upon his head, and this too, was of deep blue and held together by a
golden tear-drop shaped pin above his forehead.
     "Asalam alaykum." he said solemnly to Pavel.
     Pavel looked at him feeling no need to conduct pleasantries; he could
guess who this man was.  "You are Mahmoud bin-Hadid?"
     "I am he." the man said.  "Welcome to my humble abode.  You should
rest after your ordeal with the night-lantern.  It can be very fatiguing, I
am told."
     "We're all right."  Pavel again noticed that Jethro wasn't with him.
"Where's Jethro?"
     "Who?"
     "The man who was with me." Pavel said.
     "Oh, him." the man waved carelessly.  "Your servant has been given
quarters among my men.  I wanted to speak with you alone."
     With that casual comment, not even directed at the other men in the
tent, they bowed and left them alone.
     "Won't you come and rest beside me?" the man said.  "You are among
friends here, I assure you, despite the little unpleasantry which greeted
you upon your arrival.  Rashid has become impertinent, and needed to be
taught a lesson.  I was to be the one who greeted you upon your arrival,
not him.  So do not feel that we were bandits attacking a camp; we were in
fact punishing the bandits who had captured you."
     "We had not been captured." Pavel said.  "We came to talk to whoever
we could find, and we found Rashid's people."
     "But you seek the source of our children." Mahmoud said.  "And only I
can provide you with that source.  Would you like to see it?"
     "I was told the only way to see it was to be married." Pavel said.
     "There is that rule among our people, yes." Mahmoud said.  "Please, do
sit down.  My servants are bringing you food."  Pavel sat down warily in
the place indicated by Mahmoud.  It was an arrangement of the cushions and
quite out of Mahmoud's reach; and was therefore as safe as standing up in
front of him and more comfortable.
     A delicate tone, like the ringing of a very tiny bell, sounded, and
Mahmoud called out, "Enter."
     In came a youthful serving boy, bearing a large bowl in his right hand
only.  Without bringing his left hand into play, he carefully placed it in
the small area between Mahmoud and Pavel.
     "Come, eat." Mahmoud said and reached into the bowl.  It contained a
thick substance, reminiscent of bread dough before baking in its texture,
though this was a combination of several items, light gray in its main
mass, but with red and pink and light green squares and less formed shaped
dotted it throughout.  Mahmoud formed it into a ball with his right hand
only and bit into it.
     Pavel fished out a small portion of the bowl's contents, and caught
himself from using his left hand to assist him with the dangling string of
the "dough" which came up with him.  Jezreel (Jezreel where was Jezreel?)
had warned him not to use anything but his right hand when eating, ever,
that it would be considered extremely rude, in fact if his left hand
touched the food in the common bowl, it would be considered to have
contaminated all its contents, ending the meal as much as spilling food
onto the floor would.  Pavel managed to pull most of the dough up into his
right palm, and worked it clumsily the way Mahmoud had, until he had a lump
of the stuff.  Far from being the graceful ball Mahmoud had made, it was at
least passable and controllable now.  Pavel bit into it and almost choked
in surprise.
     The contents of the bowl was mostly meat.  It had been ground into
this texture after cooking in some manner or other and perhaps mixed with a
small amount of grain of some sort to gain the needed consistency and
textrue.  The more colorful items were spices of some sort.  It was good,
but it was not what Pavel was expecting.
     (Eat quickly, Jezreel had warned him.  We do not dawdle over food.
Eat silently, heartily and rapidly--it is not rude.  Save any words of
compliments for afterwards.)  Pavel ate the meat as quickly as he could, it
was quite tender and a bit greasy-tasting and a bit sweetish-tasting.
     Mahmoud managed to eat about one-third of the bowl's contents and
Pavel about half of that.  The servants had prepared twice what they could
eat and Pavel understood that this, too, was the custom; the servants would
sup upon the remainder of their meal.  Pavel finished and signified he was
done when Mahmoud cocked an eye, and Mahmoud clapped his hands.
     The thick coffee appeared again, and at least Pavel was ready for
this.  Again, they drank in utter silence and Pavel choked down two cupfuls
of the stuff, and waved off a third from the proffering servant, not caring
by then if it was rude or not.  It was a heavy morning meal to a man used
to lightly breakfasting on the bland foods of a European breakfast.
     Done, Pavel looked over at Mahmoud.  "That was very good, thank you."
     "Did you enjoy the harees?"
     "I'm sorry?" Pavel was puzzled.
     "The meal, we call it harees.  Not quite exactly the dish of our
ancestors I concede, but on this world without sheep, we must do as best we
can and it makes an adequate substitute, I think."
     "Yes, it was very good." Pavel said.
     "I am glad you enjoyed it." Mahmoud said.  "I want you to enjoy your
life with me."
     "But I won't be staying very long." Pavel countered.
     "We shall see." Mahmoud said, and there was that look again, that
small smile, and the eyes that burned into Pavel's very soul.  "There is
much we must discuss, you and I.  Your people need what we have to give
them.  You, yourself, need children, do you not?"
     "We can manage ourselves, thank you." Pavel said.  "We have our own
ways."
     "Ah, but grandchildren, they would be impossible, would they not?
Unless you have full men, not the half-men dressed in gray you brought with
you as servants?"
     "They are not half-men." Pavel protested.  "Like everything else on
this world, they have been changed."
     "But you have not.  Nor have I.  Not in this way." Mahmoud stood up
then, and Pavel rose quickly as well.  "Though even on this world, as on
the many worlds Man has lived on since he left the Great Mother behind, we
must adapt as best we can."
     "I don't know what you mean." Pavel said.  God, he was getting horny
again already!  Less than an hour had passed since the plant--the night
lantern?--had released them, and he had been fucked out.  The mist, it must
be the mist rising again.  Pavel looked outside, and yes, the pink mist was
pouring over the land outside.  Nobody was in sight; they were probably off
fucking themselves silly.
     "Won't you come and lie beside me now?" Mahmoud said.  "It is a new
tradition in this world among my people that, after we eat and drink, we
make love."  The white garment of Mahmoud was jutting out at mid-height,
and Pavel looked at the bulge and licked his lips.  God, this man was
turning him on.  If ever there was a time he should avoid having sex, it
was now, with Mahmoud of all people, who would probably use the sex to
proclaim them married or something, and he hadn't wanted sex this bad in a
long time!
     "Where is Jezreel?" Pavel asked suddenly.
     "He is nearby." Mahmoud admitted, his smile slipping.
     "Bring him to me."
     "Afterwards." Mahmoud said sternly.  "You can meet with him and talk
all you want.  He will now be occupied, as we are about to be."  Mahmoud
held out his arms.  "Shall you come to me of your own will, or must I
compel you?"  His chest was moving in long, slow breaths of passion rising
from within, as was Pavel's own.
     When it's put that way...Pavel stepped toward Mahmoud.  "I'm not going
to marry you." he said firmly.  "This is just sex.  Understand that."
     "Of course." Mahmoud said.  "Whether you live as my husband or my
concubine does not matter to me.  If you'd rather give up the privileges of
marriage, that is your choice."
     "In marriage, we'd have to be divorced." Pavel said.  "Right."
     "Yes." Mahmoud reached out and his big hands clasped on Pavel's
shoulders, one palm capturing the joint with the arm each.
     "But concubines don't have to be divorced?"
     "I can sell a concubine whenever I wish." Mahmoud agreed.  "But if I
take you as a concubine, you will never be sold.  I shall own you forever."
     "What's involved with being married?" Pavel gasped, his chest
beginning to move like a bellows.  "Is there a ceremony?"
     "Of course." Mahmoud said.
     "Then I choose to marry you." Pavel said.  A ceremony would take time,
he could figure out a way to escape by then, maybe....
     Mahmoud's hand came down on Pavel's head.  "I, Mahmoud bin-Hadid, take
thee for my own, now and forever in the sight of Allah."
     Mahmoud removed his hand and Pavel asked, startled.  "Is that it?"
     "That is all.  You are mine, now." Mahmoud said.
     "We're married?" Pavel couldn't believe it.
     "I have married you, yes." Mahmoud said.
     "But I didn't want to get married right now!" Pavel protested.  "You
said there was a ceremony...."
     "And I have performed it." Mahmoud said.  His eyes became opaque, his
manner stern.  "Now, my husband, you will come to your marriage bed."
     Pavel's mind was reeling, his brain refusing to accept the horrible
mistake he had just made.  He had to get away!
     But it was too late to get away, Mahmoud's arms were around him now
and Pavel felt himself pulled towards Mahmoud's strong body.
     "Wait...Mahmoud, please!" he gasped out.  The mist was so strong right
now, his body was betraying him, that and the feel of this man, so strong
and in control here.  God, if it weren't for the plans Mahmoud had for him,
he'd give himself gladly to this man, but to be his husband, to be taken
and used to give Mahmoud more power...  "No!" he said.
     "You are not permitted to refuse me, my husband." Mahmoud said.  "You
have accepted marriage, and I have married you.  Your duties are now to
please me."
     "Then I want a divorce!" Pavel gasped out.
     "Only I can divorce you." Mahmoud said as he guided them both, Pavel's
legs moving awkwardly, stumbling, compelled by Mahmoud's large body around
and onto the lush cushions of Mahmoud's tent.  "It is our way."
     "Please, no!" Pavel said as he was lowered onto the cushions.
"Please, not like this, please!"
     "You cannot fear the act of sex." Mahmoud pointed out.  "I know full
well that you have learned the ways of the body in making love.  Why then
do you protest like this?  Take off those garments or I'll call in my
servants to have them taken off from you."
     Mahmoud's garment was not seamless, there were a row of fasteners down
the midline from the throat to mid-stomach.  Mahmoud pulled at this seam,
and with a series of audible, metallic snaps, his garment parted.  Gown and
vest both fell from his body easily, and he was unclothed before Pavel.
     Jezreel had never been this hairy.  Hair was thick on Mahmoud's body,
burying his breasts in curled chest hair, obscuring mostly the skin
beneath.  Only at the thighs did the hairs diminish in quantity somewhat,
only to thicken again at the knees.
     His cock, when flaccid, would be buried in this forest of hair, but
now it stood straight out and strong, thick, with a wide, bulbous head on
it.
     "Remove your clothing." Mahmoud ordered.
     Pavel gulped and reached for his shirt fasteners, fumbled, his eyes
glued to the mammoth prong that was to take him.
     Mahmoud knelt over him, legs on either side of Pavel's, their knees
touching, snarled a small sound of impatience, and grabbed Pavel's shirt.
It was good that Pavel had these types of fasteners, or Mahmoud's rough
hands would have ripped it open.  Buttons would have gone flying, but as it
was, Pavel's shirt pulled open.  Mahmoud's hand pushed roughly at Pavel's
shoulders, and Pavel sat up and Mahmoud pushed the shirt harshly off him.
     "That is better." Mahmoud said.  "Now the trousers.  Remove them."
     Pavel had his shoes to remove first, and he got them off after
pivoting out from under Mahmoud, who remained where he was.  The shoes went
off, and Pavel stood long enough to unfasten his trousers.
     Somewhere in the last few minutes, he realized, he had given up.  If
he was to run, now was the chance, but instead, he was removing his
clothing obediently.  Perhaps he was too much his father's son, his Dad
compliantly giving to Daddy Al his body whenever Al peremptorily demanded
it.  Was that why he was attracted to Jezreel, the dark, rather arrogant
lover?
     Was that why he was attracted to Mahmoud despite this predicament?
     No, it was the mist, he knew it well.  It controlled your desires, and
left you bereft of your senses.  Throughout his valley, it was an excuse
for sex at any time; indeed, it was rare when it was missing.  These plains
seemed to suffer more regular, but intrusive waves of the mist, long
periods free of it, then inundations where the mind lost control.
     His pants were off and Mahmoud grabbed him from behind and pulled him
down onto the bed.  Pavel barely had time to turn his legs back onto the
cushions before Mahmoud was laying his long, massive body on top of him.
     "Oh!" Pavel groaned as the lips met his, as he felt the thick prod
lying on his belly, sticky at the top, while his own pud managed to find a
purchase between Mahmoud's legs.  Now Pavel's legs were outside of
Mahmoud's, and Pavel's cock was a prisoner between the strong, hairy
thighs.
     Pavel put his hands on Mahmoud's back, and even here was hair, more
hair, like rubbing his hands over another man's chest, there was so much
hair.  Liking making love to a Slan!
     Mahmoud's cock was jockeying for position as Mahmoud scooted down,
nibbling now at Pavel's shoulder, and Pavel felt the massive schlong
pressing against his buttocks.  Unlubricated!
     "No, please, use something on it!" He pleaded.
     Mahmoud looked at him, and Pavel saw that Mahmoud was deeply lost in
his lust, both of the mist and the power he would gain from making Pavel
his lover.
     "Please, my husband." Pavel said, desperately calling into play his
only card.  "Do not let this first time be filled with pain."
     Mahmoud was silent and almost scowling, but he reached a long arm over
to a small bag, into it, and pulled out a small jar.  He rose to his knees
again, his chest heaving, and he said as his prong arced in front of him.
"Move quickly."
     Pavel got the jar open, a simple pull on the lid which was of pliable
but stiff material, like rubber.  The contents were a thick oil, and Pavel
scooped up a large portion of it and ran his hand over Mahmoud's thick
dong.
     Mahmoud barely waited until he had spread it evenly, then knocked his
hand away and lay back over him, his arms pulling Pavel's legs up into the
air, and Pavel knew that he was about to be fucked right then and there.
     No wonder Rashid had presented his unmarried men to the strangers for
their pleasure.  You had to learn how to make love quickly, given the rapid
actions of these Arab lovers.
     Mahmoud's prick pushed into Pavel's ass, and only Pavel's experience
and lust helped him to accommodate that thick organ, and even then there
was pain, from the size of that enormous cockhead and the rapid insertion
into his body.
     But Mahmoud did not cease, even though Pavel groaned as his body was
pushed wide by this ponderous invader, and his fingernails bit into
Mahmoud's back as Mahmoud rested his weight on Pavel, crushing him beneath
his body, until Pavel felt his ribs creak from the heavy burden laid upon
them.
     But still Mahmoud pushed into him, and finally, with hot pain filling
the lower half of Pavel's body, he was fully inside Pavel, the entire
length of that long dong buried inside of him, and with no time to adjust,
Mahmoud began to pull it out again, only to ram it back in just as deep.
     "Oh, oh, God!" Pavel groaned.  "God, please, no, no!"
     But Mahmoud was deaf to his pleas, and the thick pole was pushing into
and out of him, a shaft of hot fire in his bowels, and Pavel groaned,
clutched even tighter.
     But the pain Pavel gave Mahmoud with his fingernails only seemed to
inflame Mahmoud more, he grunted and began to thrust lustily into Pavel's
writhing form, Pavel's legs floundering helplessly on either side, unable
to help or inhibit Mahmoud's pumping buttocks in any way.
     Pavel's prostate was being mauled by this heavy prod, and he grunted
still, now less in pain than in pleasure.  Mahmoud's ass was a bobbing blur
now and Pavel knew that he would not slacken his lovemaking out of
deference to Pavel, so Pavel let his lust take him as it would, get off
quick or he would not get off at all!
     Pavel managed to snake his hand down in between their bodies, not so
much out of his strength but that Mahmoud had, for his own sake, put his
weight onto his elbows in order to fuck Pavel more heartily, and Pavel
pounded his shaft while Mahmoud fucked him hard, and Pavel looked up to see
Mahmoud's face in a way he would come to realize was rare, Mahmoud soft and
gentle, his face uncontorted by his passions other than lust, and that face
he saw now was handsome and desirable, and Pavel groaned, his balls slammed
against his cock shaft and Mahmoud's vulnerable face flushed dark as he
pounded Pavel harder than ever, deep rasps of pleasure seeping from his
lips, and Pavel gasped as he felt his come boil inside his balls and thrust
itself into his cock and erupt into the air, to splatter Mahmoud's hairy
belly as well as Pavel's nearly-hairless one
     Mahmoud gasped at this feel and the gasps became a sustained roar, and
that sound filling his ears, and the rank smell of Mahmoud's sweat
assaulting his nostrils, Mahmoud erupted into Pavel's ass, filling him
full, and Pavel's entire world was Mahmoud, the sight of Mahmoud's face red
and soft with his pleasure, his throat roaring triumphantly like a tiger,
the smell of come and sweat and musk, the feel of the big body atop his own
and the joy within from his own orgasm which still messed his crotch with
sticky, slimy squirts.
     Pavel finished and released his cock with a gasp, just in time to
prevent his hand being crushed as Mahmoud let his entire weight fall again
upon Pavel, while Mahmoud gasped for breath with heavy sobs of air being
pulled into and out of his lungs, right into Pavel's ear.
     Mahmoud was quiet after a time, but still he rested his entire body
upon Pavel., mashing him into the cushions, and Pavel felt the sweat of
Mahmoud permeating his body, the seed dribbling in small amounts out of his
ass, but mostly being absorbed into his own, his every breath filled with
the scent of Mahmoud's strong raunch, until Mahmoud's very essence had
seeped irrevocably into his very bones.
     Mahmoud rose again onto his elbows, still thus holding Pavel firmly
down, and he said right into Pavel's face, with finality.  "Now you truly
belong to me.  We shall travel to Medina Jadeed and there at the mosque we
shall enter and form our first-born child."
     "How long will it take to get there?" Pavel asked.
     "We'll be there before sundown." Mahmoud said.  "My agents will be
watching for my coming, and they will prepare the Waters of Life for us.
You will be bearing my child by this time tomorrow, I promise you, my
husband."
     "How many children will that make for you?" Pavel asked rather
scornfully.
     "Seventeen, if you conceive a single child." Mahmoud said without
hesitation.
     "Your concubines?" Pavel asked.
     "Eight of them are, yes, but the other eight I currently have are from
my first two husbands."
     "You have two husbands already?" Pavel asked.
     "Three, now that I have you." Mahmoud said.  "I am permitted to have
four by Muslim tradition, as well as having as many concubines as I wish.
You need not fear for your position in my household or my ability to care
for our children.  In fact, I will be taking another husband now that I
have finished taking you.  I only held off marrying him because I wanted
you to have the third position."
     "So I'm the third man.  Very nice of you." Pavel said scornfully.
     The scorn was lost upon Mahmoud, who merely nodded at the expression
of gratitude.  He then raised up and called out.  "My servants!  Bring in
the man who is to now become my fourth husband!"
     "At once, O Sultan!" came the deferential, cheerful response.
     Pavel looked up as the servants led in another man into their tent.
He was dressed as Jassem had been dressed, in colorful clothes.
     "I am here, O Sultan, to do thy bidding and become your mate." he said
docilely.  "And I am grateful for your willingness to take me.  May Allah
grant that I may be fruitful for you and give you many sons."
     Pavel couldn't believe his eyes or his ears, his heart trembled with
the betrayal, his vocal cords gasped out of their own accord the beloved
traitor's name.
     "Jezreel!"

			    END OF CHAPTER SIX