Message-ID: <46537asstr$1076238604@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Mail-Format-Warning: No previous line for continuation: Wed Aug 14 16:30:23 2002Return-Path: X-Original-Message-ID: <20040208001301.79979.qmail@web20724.mail.yahoo.com> From: Robber Baron X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Sat, 7 Feb 2004 16:13:01 -0800 (PST) Subject: {ASSM} Arthur's Reward Ch. 7 Lines: 468 Date: Sun, 8 Feb 2004 06:10:04 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, RuiJorge Arthur's Reward by Robber Baron - Chapter 7 This story is a work of adult fiction and contains sexually explicit material that some may find offensive. If you are not at least 18 years of age (or the age of consent for your locality), or if you object to sexual situations, you must exit now. All characters and events in this story are fictional, any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental. The author reserves all rights to this work. It may be freely distributed, posted and archived electronically only in its entirety including all header material. It may not be sold in whole or in any part, or as part of an electronic document, printed material, voice recording or in any other manner without the written permission of the author. Note: There are at least two other stories, 'The Reward' by W.G. and 'My Reward' by Azil, based on the same premise as this story. I acknowledge my debt to those authors for the idea. This is pure adolescent male fantasy, with the protagonist gaining, through supernatural means, absolute power and a lot of sex. I am writing this for my own amusement, so I include those behaviors I enjoy, or enjoy fantasizing about. These may or may not be what you enjoy. If you like it, that's fine, if not, that's okay too. Either way, I would be happy to receive your input and ideas for future development of the story. --------------------------------- Do you Yahoo!? Yahoo! Finance: Get your refund fast by filing online <1st attachment, "Arthur07.txt" begin> Chapter 7 We spent the rest of the morning pleasuring each other in the many ways possible for three woman and a man. Thanks to Klaatu, my sexual stamina was increased to meet that pleasant challenge. Finally, exhausted after hours of sex, we fell asleep. When I awoke I saw Ayesha, again covered by her cloak, scarf and veil, bringing a tray of food and drink into the tent from outside. As I stirred, Amara, lying with her head on my thigh, extended her tongue, licking the tip of my cock. Miko, lying on my other side, raised herself above me, looked into my eyes, and without a word lowered herself onto me, rolling her breasts against my chest, softly kissing ... licking. "Not now," I said sitting up. "Let's eat. I need to build up my strength." They quickly agreed, apparently anxious for me to be strong enough for more lovemaking. I could tell that Amara, having learned how pleasurable sex with a man could be, and the two slave girls reintroduced to heterosexuality, were going to be very demanding. Without the strength Klaatu's powers gave me, I would never be able to satisfy these three sexy young girls. Of course, without Klaatu, I would never have had the opportunity. After lunch we bathed at the beach where I first observed the three girls - only yesterday. As we sat on the sand, drying in the sun, I suddenly realized that because Amara had accepted me as her lord, she might be able to convince the Deryabar guards - now our prisoners - to come over to my side. Amara agreed - I had the impression she would agree to anything I suggested. After our bath Amara addressed the Deryabar Royal Guards, telling them that she accepted me as her betrothed, that I was the rightful Sultan of Basrah, and once I was restored to my throne she would become my queen. With a loud cheer, all the Deryabar guards agreed to join us in liberating Basrah. I mentally contacted Klaatu, and ordered him to alter our plan to make use of their changed loyalty. The slow pace of the caravan meant it would take days of travel before we would reach Basrah. This gave me time to get to know better the princess who was to become my wife - my first wife. Amara was sexy, spoiled and selfish. Her royal birth and beauty had led her to expect instant obedience and gratification of her desires. And she was still like that - with everyone but me. From the time I first took her - forced her - she surrendered herself totally to me. She willingly gave to me the obedience, the devotion she expected for herself from others. In public, she was the regal princess, but with me she gladly acted the role of pleasure slave. And Ayesha and Miko were just as devoted to me as their former mistress. On the fifth day, as we were making camp, scouts from Basrah rode into our encampment. They informed us we would reach the city the next day. A guard of honor would meet the caravan to escort Malik's bride into the city. That night, even with the greater stamina Klaatu had given me, I was almost unable to match the sexual passion of the three women - no girls, for they were still in their teens. They knew that after that night, one way or the other, things would never be the same for us. They feared I could be killed or injured in the coming battle, or (as I knew would inevitably happen) if restored to my throne they would find themselves merely additional members of a harem of many women. The next day, the day we were to reach Basrah - in this world, my home, my capital - I was wearing the ragged, foul-smelling clothing of a camel driver over my princely garb. My men posing as guards or humble caravan workers, like me. As we came in sight of the walls of Basrah, a troop of royal lancers met our caravan, escorting us into the city through the gated portal in the thick walls surrounding the city. As our caravan moved down the broad avenue leading to the royal palace, I marveled at the beauty of Basrah, my city. This wasn't a real city, it wasn't even the kind of eastern city portrayed in movies. It was a dream city, with wide, clean streets, the buildings large (it looked like the tallest were three or four stories), well-kept, whitewashed, with flat roofs sporting multi-colored awnings. Occasionally, as we made our way to the palace, we passed through open squares, where markets were being held. Here, vendors were selling all variety of goods, the diversity of items for sale matched by the variety of peoples. There was one discordant note in all this wonder - the people of Basrah. The citizens of Basrah, who I seemed to remember as prosperous, lively and happy, today seemed impoverished and downtrodden, subdued except when cheering crowds tried to get close to Princess Amara - her howdah open, but she still hidden by scarf and robe and veil - as Malik's guards ruthlessly whipped them away. We reached the large Palace Square outside the main gate of the royal palace. There, sitting on a white horse, dressed in glittering finery, was Malik surrounded by his bodyguards. I had to admit to myself that he was a handsome man - tall, athletic, his eyes black, a dark goatee covering his chin. Still as a statue on his stallion, only his eyes moving, flashing over the scene, taking in the crowd, the caravan, his guards, Malik waited as servants ran out, rolling a long red carpet through the palace gate into the square. Gracefully, he dismounted, standing in the center of the broad carpet, exactly halfway between the palace gate and the foot of the carpet, awaiting his bride. All our caravan now in the square, we paused as the camels carrying Amara and her two companions approached the foot of the long red carpet. I held the camel's head as Amara dismounted, her blue eyes above the gauze veil softening for a moment as they looked into mine, then once more taking on the haughty cast of an aristocrat as her feet touched the ground. Somehow - I guess because she was mine now - I was filled with pride as I watched Amara, her back erect, flanked by Miko and Ayesha, bravely walking toward Malik to offer her obeisance. I knew how much she had dreaded this moment. Strangely, with each step as she walked up the scarlet carpet a murmur came from the crowd, at first indistinct, then becoming clearer. "Amara" they murmured, at first softly, then louder and louder "Amara ... AMARA," until it became a shout, a roar from the crowd: "Princess AMARA," then the cry, "DOWN WITH MALIK!" As the crowd surged forward, Malik's guards moved toward the ragged mob, beating them back with whips, clubs, the butts of lances. Suddenly, stones, bottles, a myriad of missiles began raining down on Malik and his guards from the edge of the crowd. Hassan, dressed as a captain of the Deryabar guard, ran toward the three girls who were standing unmoving on the carpet before Malik, clutching one another, clearly confused by what was happening. "Get them into the palace," Malik ordered. Hassan looking to me for guidance, I nodded, then, grabbing the halter of Amara's camel rushed up the carpet toward the palace gate, following Amara and her companions inside. By now, arrows, along with the cruder missiles, were falling around Malik and his men as they moved toward the gate, fighting a rearguard action against the largest, strongest men of Basrah who were at the front of the angry mob. I was forced to admit to myself that despite the evil I knew Malik to be, he was a courageous warrior and a dynamic leader. I entered the palace compound with about half our caravan, just before Malik's guards swung the gates shut. The crowd was clamoring at the gate, shouting their rage, then screaming as Malik's men began raining boiling oil and missiles onto them from the walls, until the crowd was forced to draw back, crying out in frustration. This wasn't our plan; this wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Mentally calling to Klaatu, "What's going on?" I asked. "The people of Basrah were so excited they couldn't be controlled, attacking before they should have. We'll just have to play it through like this." I suspected this was another of Klaatu's changes to make the game more interesting, but decided to follow his advice and play it through. "All right," I continued. "Are your men in position?" "We'll be at the city gates within minutes." I watched as Hassan and Murad hurriedly pulled some packs off a mule, then using flint and steel, set off the rockets to warn Klaatu-Omar's army of mercenaries we needed them to enter the city. Our plan - our original plan - was for my men to hold the palace gates open, allowing our partisans in Basrah to enter the palace compound, while other partisans were to hold the city gates open for Klaatu-Omar's forces. But that seemed impossible now. All that I could hope was that the city gates would be held for our troops. Jumping onto the low wall surrounding a fountain, I ripped off the filthy burnoose, opening the ornate jacket I wore beneath, baring the Hawk of Basrah on my chest, "Soldiers of Basrah," I called to Malik's men. "It is I, Arthur, your true Sultan. Join me. Free Basrah. You will be rewarded." Cheering, about half of Malik's men in the courtyard joined us. Rallying them and the forces we brought with the caravan, waving my scimitar, I led my men against the remaining enemy in the compound. As we struggled against the enemy, I thrusting, parrying with my men, Murad and Hassan, with a small force of men, opened the palace gates, letting in our forces from the caravan trapped outside along with our partisans from the city population. Malik, seeing defeat impending, ran along the parapet toward the river gate, looking for a way to escape. Hassan led a troop up the stairway to the rampart, battling Malik's forces barring their way. I followed, bounding up two ... three steps at a time, forcing my way through, shouldering one of Malik's men off the parapet, he falling with a thud to the paving stones below. I chased after Malik, running with all my strength until he paused where the wall overlooked the river. I guessed he was looking for a way to get down to one of the boats on the water below. Even with my enhanced body, I was breathing hard after the battle and sprint across the battlements. Malik must have heard me because as I approached he turned. It was then I saw he had a weapon in each hand, a scimitar in his right hand and a short sword in his left. With the weapon in his left hand as a guard, he thrust at me with the scimitar. I parried his thrust, jumping back to avoid a slash from his left. Panting hard, I stumbled back as Malik pressed toward me. The world had collapsed to a four by four foot square as Malik and I circled, each looking for a weakness in the other. Then, I felt my breathing slowing. I was getting my second wind. My confidence returning, I moved toward my enemy, keeping my sword low, feinting toward his left, then up, under the scimitar, thrusting into his belly from below. His intestines spilling out, Malik stared down at himself, a look of shock on his face. Dropping the scimitar, his hand went to his belly, trying in vain to hold in his guts and his life. I turned, looking down at the palace courtyard, seeing all the little battles ending, our forces triumphant. Klaatu-Omar, astride a large horse entered the palace at the head of the army of mercenaries. As I looked down at my men, a shout of triumph welled up from them. Waving my sword over my head, waiting for the crowd to quiet, "We have conquered the usurper," I shouted. Suddenly, I heard a female voice cry out from one of the latticework covered windows on the second floor of the palace, "Lord, Guard yourself ... Malik!" Turning, I saw my enemy, still alive, on one knee, holding his guts with his right hand, with the short sword still in his left, drawing back to slash at me from behind. With both hands on my scimitar, I swung at Malik's weapon striking it from his hand. He looked up at me, only rage in his dark eyes, no hint of defeat or desire for mercy ... only rage and hate. As ruthless as he, I thrust him through the chest, watching as he fell back, the pink blood bubbling from his lips, his eyes growing dull, his breathing stopping. I waited a few seconds, making sure my enemy was finally dead, then turned again to my men, waving my sword over my head in triumph before completing my short victory speech. The speech over, I descended the stair to the courtyard below, trying to keep my face calm. I was so elated I knew that if I didn't control myself I would break out in a big shit-eating grin. All this, this world Klaatu made for me, and everything that happened was a dream come true - this exotic land, leading my army to victory, regaining a sultan's throne, the women, the sex. I knew, of course, that it wasn't real, but it felt real. The danger felt like real danger, even though Klaatu was protecting me from any real harm, and the adventure, the sex, the beauty of the women, my women, all seemed real. Now, at this moment, it felt more real than my life in Phoenix. As I reached the foot of the stair, Klaatu-Omar, having dismounted, bowed, salaaming in greeting. "Congratulations Lord Arthur," he said, giving me that high-class smile of his. "You have won a great victory, you shall be restored to your throne as Sultan of Basrah, and (glancing at Malik's body above) you have defeated the greatest swordsman in all of Araby." Taking his hand, I said, "Thank you, Omar, for your aid in bringing about this great victory. Rest assured, you shall be well rewarded." Then louder, "As all those who helped restore me to my rightful throne shall be rewarded." This followed by a large cheer from the men surrounding me. As I was walking toward the palace through my men - they bowing, congratulating, thanking me, touching my shoulder, my arm - a round little man wearing a maroon and yellow outfit came hurrying down the palace stairs toward me. I recognized him right away as Kerim, the Chamberlain of the palace. "Lord Arthur ... Lord Arthur," puffing, Kerim gasped, then pausing to salaam. "Lord Arthur, your lady mother, Queen Serena, awaits you in the throne room." I hurried to the palace, bounding up the stairway through the broad portal, into the marble throne room. There, awaiting me on the purple carpet in front of the throne, was my mother, Queen Serena, with Amara, Ayesha and Miko standing slightly behind her. All four of them were without veils, though their hair was covered by scarves and their bodies by robes. As I approached smiling, Amara and the slave girls gracefully knelt to the carpeted floor, while my mother curtsied, as befitted a queen greeting her son the king, then stood, looking into my face her eyes shining with happiness and pride. Strangely, or maybe not so strangely since Klaatu was responsible, my mother here was very like my real mother in Phoenix. This one was a little taller, a little thinner, with a more regal bearing, but her age was about the same - late forties, and her bone structure, the shape of the face, her hair, her coloring, even her manner of speaking were all so similar to my real mother's that right away I began to feel real affection for her. Plus, inside me, the memories and emotions associated with my mother in Phoenix and this mother began to merge. I felt almost like she really was my mother. Concerned about her. "Mother, are you all right. He ... Malik, he didn't harm you, did he?" Taking my hands in hers, smiling, "No, he left me alone. As long as he didn't know about the small tasks I performed for our partisans in the city, he wouldn't hurt me. He thought I was going into the city to give alms to the poor, and he never found out. I was able to live fairly comfortably, sometimes I felt guilty about that when I saw how impoverished our people were under Malik's reign." Hugging her to me, "Mother, that makes me feel better. I was feeling guilty about having left you in Malik's hands." As we drew apart she took my hands again, smiling, "My son, I need to congratulate you on your great victory. We were able to watch the battle from the windows in the second floor of the harem. Though it was frightening to see you in danger, it was wonderful to be able to see you defeat Malik in hand to hand combat." Then, glancing at Amara, still on her knees, "Though without Princess Amara's warning, I'm afraid the victory might have been at the cost of injury to you, or even your death." Turning to Amara, taking her hands in mine, pulling her up into my embrace, I looked down into her face as she looked up into mine, her blue eyes bright. "Is this true? Was it you who warned me?" She looked down, shyly, for a moment, then up, proudly. "Lord, I could not do otherwise. You have conquered not only my body, but my heart as well." Her eyes filling with tears, "I would rather have died myself than have you fall to Malik." I pressed my mouth to hers, our lips and tongues meeting. As I tightened my arms around Amara, she pressing herself to me, I heard a discreet cough from behind, then Klaatu-Omar's voice, "Lord Arthur, the citizens of Basrah would see you and your bride on the palace balcony, if you would so favor them." Klaatu-Omar and Chamberlain Kerim had come up behind us, unnoticed. With them the Royal Guardsmen who had joined us at the Oasis of Haj, ready to guard the palace. "Of course," I replied, smiling at everyone in my joy. Kerim led us behind the curtain, where the doorway to the inner palace was hidden. We went up to the second floor and out to the marble balcony overlooking the Palace Square. There, a huge crowd of happy citizens of Basrah had gathered. A tremendous cheer welled up from the crowd as soon as we walked onto the balcony, I between the two women, my mother on my right, Amara on my left, the two slavegirls behind. "Arthur ... Arthur ... Lord Arthur ... LORD ARTHUR," the crowd cried as I stood before them, then drew my scimitar, swinging it over my head in triumph. My mother and Amara, stood quiet, their bowed heads hiding the smiles on their unveiled faces. Turning to my mother, I took her hand in mine, and in an almost totally American political gesture, raised up both our hands together, as the crowd screamed "Queen Serena ... Arthur." As those cries began to die down, we could hear shouts of "Amara ... Amara ... Princess Amara" moving through the crowd. Dropping my mother's hand, I turned to Amara to perform the same gesture with her as I had with my mother. But Amara quickly dropped to her knees before me, taking my hand in both hers, she touched my hand to her forehead in a gesture of submission. As she paused like that for a moment, I could hear a shout of joy from the crowd. Then, still holding my hand in hers she kissed my palm, looking up at me, her eyes glowing. Shielding her mouth from the crowd with her left hand, she took my middle finger in her mouth, sucking, licking, showing me what she wished to be doing to my cock. Gently withdrawing my finger, caressing her cheek, Amara all the time looking up with those bright blue eyes glowing with passion and joy, I took her hand in mine, turning to the crowd so we could raise our hands together. The crowd went wild shouting "Amara ... Arthur ... Amara ... Arthur." When I took my mother's hand too, raising Amara's hand with my left and my mother's with my right, I feared the walls might crack from the shouts of the crowd. Releasing their hands, I tried to quiet the crowd, hoping to give another short victory speech, but it was impossible, especially when they saw their Queen giving Princess Amara a motherly hug. Then it was endless cries of "Long Live Lord Arthur ... Long Live Princess Amara ... Long Live Queen Serena," even after we retired behind the curtains into the interior of the palace. Standing there, just inside the curtain, Amara pressed herself to me, her head on my chest as I ran my hand down her back, enjoying its sleek smoothness even though it was covered by her cloak, she trembling slightly at my touch. I guess my sweat, and the love she had for me was affecting her, and Miko and Ayesha too as they pressed to us, each girl with one arm around Amara, and the other around me. Looking at them, I could see the passion in their eyes too. "My son, the women of your harem have missed you these many months," my mother said, smiling. "Go, take your betrothed and your slavegirls and introduce them to your harem, for it is with the other women of your harem they shall be residing. Take your pleasure with your women tonight, my son, for tomorrow you and Amara shall wed and you shall once again be undertaking the burdens of the Sultan." As I looked at Klaatu-Omar, he said, "My Lord, I shall take care of everything that needs doing. Go, take your pleasure with the women of your harem. As your lady mother said, your women have been without you too long." Then mentally, "Arthur, I hope you enjoy what I've arranged for you. Remember, just let me know if you want any changes." <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. The post was sent as an email attachment and has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ ------- ASSM Moderation System Notice-------- This post has been reformatted by the ASSM Moderation Team due to inadequate formatting. -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderators: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at Hosted by | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+