"Arabian Nights"
Part 56
by Beryll
In the earliest hours of the morning with the sun barely peeking over the roofs the streets of Aqaba lay mostly quiet. Still there were enough people out and about for Karl to pass a lot of familiar faces. It had been a while since he could spare the time to idly stroll through the city and today was no exception. He had a full day ahead of him.
That was the main reason why he was out so early, heading for the great bazaar. The other was that he needed to get to the market and back before Sean could notice he was missing. The other man wouldn't ask aloud why he hadn't been allowed to accompany Karl but he would wonder and the special errand Karl was on today concerned Sean much too intimately for him to know about it.
Karl had promised the Prince that he would find out who had been Sean's previous owner; that he would find a target for the cold rage both the Prince and Karl himself felt toward the man who had nearly succeeded in breaking Sean.
So far his schedule and circumstances had conspired to keep him from doing that but today he wouldn't rest until he knew.
The bazaar was already alive with merchants setting up their stalls but Karl didn't stop to sample any of the tasty treats offered to him for free. He had made it a habit of never accepting such 'bribes' and he was in a hurry anyway. He passed the through the main square, heading for the back of the bazaar where the slave market was located and from there to the block where auctions were held.
Where he had bid for Sean.
The memory came back to him suddenly. How Sean had knelt on the block, naked and chained and with helpless rage and despair in his eyes. That Karl had desired him then, had wanted him as one would want a piece of meat. It made him shudder with disgust at himself, still he knew perfectly well that it would happen again. That he wouldn't be able to resist a pretty slave when presented with the opportunity. Did that make him less than Sean or noble Prince Viggo? He wasn't sure.
The block lay deserted this early so Karl entered the small office where the actual selling and buying happened. The woman who ran the auction was there already and Karl was relieved. He doubted if he would have had the patience to wait for her.
Lately he was short on patience. The tension between the Prince and the Caliph was wearing him down. They still refused to talk to each other about anything but official business and they refused to talk to him either, the Prince feeling betrayed because Karl had not told him about the punishment he had received and the Caliph disappointed because he thought Karl had complained to the Prince.
As if that wasn't enough there was also the fact that the Prince was seriously ill. He didn't mention it and Karl might have been fooled into believing that he was simply tired from too much work but Sean had told him what was really happening. Sean knew from the kittens who sought his comfort when they weren't able to deal with their fear for their master anymore.
Sean channeled his worry about the Prince in working with the guards. He drove them in his training until they collapsed but Karl had to admit that they had never been in better shape. At least one thing that had been accomplished.
The woman greeted him with a deep bow. "Captain. I hope you are satisfied with your latest purchase?" she inquired politely.
He was a regular customer after all and keeping the Captain of the Guard happy was good for business.
Still the knowledge that she spoke of Sean made Karl's hackles rise. He managed to appear calm, though and nodded. "Yes, very satisfied. In fact I have come with a question about him."
The woman nodded attentively.
"I was wondering who his previous owner was?" Karl asked without preamble. He just didn't feel capable of polite word games right then.
He half expected her to have some kind of objection to giving him the information. Half hoped for it as it would give him a chance to vent some of his pent up anger but she just nodded and took up a large leather bound book, leafing through the many entries.
Karl watched her silently. It took her a few minutes but then she found what she was looking for. "Ah, here it is," she said, "a blonde slave, brought in for auction with a whole batch of other slaves. The man who put them up for auction is a slave trader who hadn't been in town for quite a while. Master Vosloo is his name."
She looked up at Karl again, that polite smile still in place but Karl hardly heard or saw her. He was drowning in a tidal wave of darkest memories, memories he had thought buried forever. History, repeating itself, formed a loop around his neck and drew tight.
Vosloo.
He had thought he had forever escaped that name, escaped
the man who bore it.
It couldn't be. It mustn't be.
"Thank you." he somehow managed to choke out as he turned on his heel and left the office, trying to escape the suddenly much too small place.
Images were rising before his mind's eye. Images of a brute of a man smiling down at him, teeth shining white in a deeply tanned face, sweat glistening on the bald head. Images of that same man scowling, slapping him so hard he crumpled to a heap at the man's feet. Images of that same man holding Sean down, taunting him, raping him, nearly breaking him.
Images of his father.
The way back to the palace was a blur, his feet carried him there but his mind was overwhelmed by the terrible revelation. More memories constantly swamped him, things he had thought forgotten, things he had seen his father do, things he had been forced to do himself.
And at the same time he knew that he couldn't tell anyone. Not even the Caliph knew from what lowly place Karl had come. He had been taken into service after he had at last run away from his father, after he had left all that his father stood for, all the filth and cruelty. He didn't want to look the Caliph in the eyes and see in them the same disgust he felt at his father. Didn't want to see that look in Prince Viggo's eyes. Didn't want anybody to know.
And at the same time warning voices shrilled in his head. HE knows, they shrieked, he must know that you are here, he must know what has become of you, he could appear at your doorstep at any moment. Run while as you still can!
It made his heart constrict with fear, made him feel like he was suffocating. He had thought himself long past fear of the man who had dominated his childhood with an iron fist. But apparently he had been wrong.
The cool of the palace interior enveloped him but this time it didn't offer any solace. Suddenly his home was not safe anymore. It had become a trap and all the friendly faces could at any moment turn into masks of disgust and hatred.
His father had done all that to Sean.
Somehow he managed to make it back to his quarters, firmly closing the door behind him. One look showed him that Sean had got up while he was away and that he was gone. Probably in the training yard already. Karl knew that he would eventually have to answer the question of where he had been, but right now he just felt a deepest gratitude for being alone, for not having to look into Sean's eyes with the knowledge he had just gained.
He leaned against the door with his eyes closed, and tried to breathe deeply. The woman had said that his father didn't come to town often. So there was a small chance that he wouldn't show up again, that he would leave Karl alone as he had so far. If he told the Prince that Sean had been sold by some unknown man he would believe it. He trusted Karl, he wouldn't double check. And nobody would learn what had really happened.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when somebody knocked on the door he was leaning against. With an angry snarl he turned and yanked open the door.
The young man shrinking in on himself in the corridor was the last person he had expected to see, the face, half hidden behind a curtain of hair, the way he flinched away from Karl, the way he ducked his head, ready to kneel, ready to accept anything done to him sent barbed thorns into Karl's heart.
More memories he wished would stay buried.
"Well, well, if that isn't the little whore..." he hissed.
"I was looking for Sean..." the boy's voice came out as a shy whisper which only served to infuriate Karl more.
He grabbed the whore by the wrist, drawing him inside the room, drawing him close, breathing in the scent of him. Warm, sweet, smooth skin, melting against him, the smaller body crushed against his, pliable, eager, - disgusting.
"Sean, hmm? And what would you want of Sean that I can't give you, little slut?"
For a moment the body pressed against his tensed, for a moment it seemed he would fight back, but then he relaxed into Karl's grip, willing, meek.
"Nothing, master." he whispered, his eyes lowered.
"Damn right!" Karl hissed. With his free hand he grabbed the boy's silken hair and turned his face upward to claim the sweet mouth in a brutal kiss, trying to drown all the pain, all the fear, all the pent up frustration, all the lust he had not been able to spend.
And the whore took it all, moaning, maybe in pain, maybe in pleasure - Karl didn't care.
"You want it, you little bitch, don't you?" Karl hissed into the boy's ear angrily. "Tell me you want it!"
"I want it, master." the whore answered obediently, his voice trembling slightly. Lust? Fear?
Keeping his grip in the boy's hair, Karl turned him around and pressed him against the door. His blood was pounding in his ears.
Whore.
Weak. Willing. Spreading his legs for anybody. Disgusting. Filthy. Didn't deserve better...
He yanked down the pantaloons on the soft body shuddering under his touch. "Such a pretty little slut..." he purred into the boy's ear, "come on, tell me!" His hand fisted in the whore's hair, hurting him.
"I want it..." A choked sob now.
"Of course you want it."
Nothing made sense anymore. How could he want this, how could he live with this?
Roughly he kicked the boy's legs apart, then freed his own erection, hard with the blood racing through his veins like seething fire. Again he pressed against the smaller frame of the whore, crushing him against the door, rubbing himself against the boy's ass.
'Fight back', a small voice in the back of his head begged, 'fight me, dear Allah, please fight me!'
But the whore just spread his legs further, pushed back invitingly.
And then there was only the heat of the smaller body yielding, clenching on Karl's cock almost painfully tight. The rush of lust drowning out the last bit of reason or clear thought, the sweet feeling of letting go, of punishing the one responsible for all the pain, all the fear, all the heartbreak.
Release at last.
Spent and exhausted Karl slipped out of the boy, his eyes drawn down to where his hand still held the slender hip in a bruising grasp, to his own cock, smeared with his cum and the red of fresh blood.
The image burning into his mind.
Branding him.
This wasn't him.
This was his father.
With an anguished cry Karl let go of the boy, watching with horror as he crumpled to his knees, tears streaking his face, his hand showing the marks of teeth that had bitten down so hard they had broken skin as he had tried to choke his screams of pain. He watched as the boy he had just raped curled up, hugging himself, crying silently.
The almost soundless sobs burned his ears, pierced his heart, killed every last bit of rage or lust and left only the bare fact of what he had done.
Unable to face his deed, Karl yanked open the door and fled.
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Beryll
go to PART 57