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.
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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.
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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."
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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.
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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."
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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."