From: nogarder@ix.netcom.com(*** )
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Amir The Cruel One (Mf, bdsm)
Date: 8 Mar 1996 02:37:43 GMT

			  Amir The Cruel One

	Amir looked down at the slave girl kneeling before him. She
knelt straight with her knees wide apart and her head bowed. He liked
this one. She was tall and strong and mastering her made him feel as
if he was bigger than she was. In actuality, Amir barely topped five
and a half feet, in addition to being heavy. His silk robes were
tailored to hide his weight, but usually they only succeeded in making
him look fatter. The rings he wore, mostly for magical protection, and
the heavy perfumed oil he used in his hair and thin beard made him
seem effeminate at first glance. But, as Selima and a very few others
now living could attest, his mind was steel hidden beneath the perfume
and silk.

	Right now, as she knelt before him, Selima wondered what the
mind was plotting. Amir was cruel for the sake of cruelty. She usually
managed to endure his attentions during the New Year celebration, and
her master's birthday celebration. The ruler of Shaalium visited only
seldom, finding the delights of shabby compared to those of his home
city.

	"You evaded me last night, slave," Amir said. Selima found his
high pitched nasal voice annoying but managed to keep from flinching.
She did not object to men whose voices fell naturally in the higher
range, Snow Wolf's had been almost as high as hers, which was low for
a woman's, but she found the affectation grating. "I'm afraid that
means I will have to punish you tonight, my dear. Don't worry, I have
your master's full permission to do as I see fit. Lie down by the
three rings in the floor."

	The guest room in the guard tower was not as opulent as the
suites, and had far more restraint devices, since it was sometimes
used as a spare cell when the dungeon was full. The rings were spaced
about four feet apart and set into the stone floor. Selima hastened to
obey, hoping he would be merciful.

	Amir, after some rummaging in the wardrobe, and in a chest he
had brought, proceeded to chain her wrists to the ring above her head.
He threaded a choke-leash about her throat, above the collar and drew
it tight. Selima coughed and tried to catch her breath. He gagged her
with a wadded strip of cloth held in by a second. He took a pole, set
with a manacle at each end, and, threading it through the lowest ring,
pulled her down to lock her ankles in the irons. Selima blessed her
father for giving her an almost six foot height. Wrapping another
chain around her body, he threaded it through the ring near her back,
holding her almost immobile.

	Placing the keys tantalizingly out her reach, he reached back
into the trunk and removed a glass jar, holding a large toad. Selima's
eyes grew large as he moved between her wide-spread legs.

	"You don't like my pet?" Amir asked in mock-hurt tones. His
comically sad face twisted into a sadistic leer. "Perhaps the two of
you should get acquainted, while I'm at the dinner." He removed the
squirming creature from its jar and forced it into the helpless slave
girl. Selima felt the acid burn a track up her throat, but, unable to
spew it out, she was forced to swallow hard. Wrapping another piece of
cloth tightly around her legs and hips, preventing the toad's escape,
he left. "I will return in a few hours slave girl. Be prepared to
serve my pleasure."

	Selima lay on the floor in torment. The chains were too tight,
and she knew she would bruise. The loathsome feeling of the animal
fighting in the cramped space made her ill. The only worse sensation
was feeling it grow weaker and weaker until it quit moving. She knew
it had suffocated. The feeling of lying chained on her back, with a
dead toad inside of her was repulsive and she put the thought from her
mind.

	Distracting herself, she thought back a few weeks to the first
night her master had summoned her after her punishment. It had been
glorious, and she remembered how much she had loved him. He had
trusted her enough to allow her to perform slightly dangerous intimate
actions upon his body, and now he had loaned her to a jaded pervert
from Shaalium. She saw the wisdom of his action, realizing that she
was the only one who had the stomach for this kind of treatment. None
of the others could satisfy this man unscathed. There was little Amir
could do that she had not already survived.

	Lost in her musing on the past, Selima was startled to see
Amir returning. She had vaguely heard the night bell sound two times
since he left, but was surprised to see him back so soon.

	"No, my dear, dinner is not over," he tittered. It was an
obscene sound coming from a man so large. "I merely wished to see how
well acquainted you two were. I excused myself from listening to the
singer." He unwrapped the cloth from her hips and placed a fat ringed
hand inside of her. Her body, not meant for such abuse, complained and
tears began down her cheeks.

	"There we are." He pulled the amphibious corpse out of her.
She visibly relaxed, but was overcome with the urge to retch again.
"Wretched girl, you've killed him!" Amir shrieked. "That will have to
be punished. But, I am feeling lenient. I will give you some pleasure
before the pain begins." He rummaged in his trunk and came up with an
oddly shaped iron rod.	  When he brought it closer, she could
see that it was indeed iron, formed into the shape of a phallus, but
one that was cleft in the middle as a snake's tongue. Each side was
formed complete, with its own head. She looked puzzled and frightened.

	"I thought by now you would be accustomed to this shape. You
frequent the bed of a demon, is that not true?" Without waiting for an
answer, he continued. "Is not your master formed like this, even to
the iron?" He ignored the frantic shaking of her head. "Every noble in
the Empire knows our good Emperor is from the lower planes, either a
minion, or perhaps the Destroyer himself, taken mortal guise. The
stars have lately indicated a massive supernatural upheaval and the
balance sways into darkness. He has returned, has He not? And you,
lucky slave, are His favorite." Selima shook her head frantically,
wishing he would remove the gag. The iron did not look painful, but
she would not hear her master slandered.

	Continuing to ignore her, Amir finished his lecture on
demonology and proceeded to thrust the iron rod into her. It was cold
and painful, but she had endured larger, since it was probably modeled
on Amir's own, which was small-average, and worse. She could tolerate
this.

	"That will be there when I return, or you will suffer the
consequences," he told her, turning to return to his dinner.

	Selima was right, the iron was not as bad as the toad had
been. She lay quietly and thought about what Amir had said. She was
surprised to learn that her master was considered a demon, in the
literal sense, by some of his nobility. This could be good or bad. She
wondered if he realized this, and then considered that he probably
did. As she reflected on what she knew of him, she came to understand
how some of them could believe such a thing. Amir had told her that
the stars were showing massive upheaval. Perhaps that was why she
could feel a change in her Power. It had never been great enough to
train, but there was a warning tingle, like that of the coal imbedded
in the flesh of her shoulder, that told her of something coming.

	After the fourth tolling of the night bell, Amir returned,
looking satisfied and full. He knelt beside her and removed the gag.
Swallowing hard, she managed not to vomit from the remainder of the
nausea.

	"You are a lovely thing. If His Majesty ever favors me enough
to give you to me, instead of merely loaning, I could find so many
more interesting diversions. You would die of course, my dear, but
only after I am through with you. Who knows, you may last an entire
month."

	Selima closed her eyes and gave the ritual response, "If that
would please you, Master," she managed through dry tongue and lips.
The cloth had left a foul taste in her mouth.

	Amir began unlocking her chains. He removed the iron rod. She
pulled herself to a kneeling position, ignoring the fact that there
was blood on her thighs from his rings, and he had left the choke-
leash on. He began to divest himself of the food and wine- stained
silk robes. Stripping off all but two of his rings, he stood before
her, after wrapping himself in a violet silk bathrobe.

	Taking hold of the choke-leash, he pulled her head up to face
him. "You know what I want now. And, my dear, you know what will
happen if I feel the slightest scrape from your teeth." He tugged
just hard enough that she coughed.

	"Yes, Master." For good measure, she added, "Your whim is my
law." Another ritual phrase, this time one she had learned at the
Scarlet Lily. She remained kneeling and opened the front of the robe
with gentle hands.

	Engulfing him with her mouth, she felt the first stirring of
blood in the organ. Gently she stroked it to fullness and then ran her
tongue in light flicks across the tight skin on the underside of the
head. An impatient tug on the leash told her to get on with the
procedure. A few perfunctory licks at the hanging sac and she moved on
between his legs. Long strokes brought her to the back sphincter.
Biting back her repulsion, she began to probe with her tongue, trying
to ignore the clots that hung in the dark hairs nearby. The foul taste
filled her mouth, yet she persisted, hoping at least to put him in a
pleasant enough mood to spare her any more punishment.

	Above her, she felt his bulk tremble and heard a sigh.
Apparently, he was pleased or else she would soon end with a mouth
full of his dirt. He had done that once, released his bowels into her
mouth. She had vomited hard and repeatedly, until she dry-heaved into
the stone well in the corner. He had lost all interest in her and
returned her to the harem unused that time. He had also complained to
her master about her inaptitude. She had been sent to the dungeon,
pending his departure, and placed in a common cell. Quarg had taught
her not to displease Amir. After he had left, her master had
questioned her about the incident. Knowing not to lie, she told the
truth and had been surprised when he had paled a bit. She was quickly
forgiven and returned to the harem.

	Another tug on her leash told her it was enough. The damp
patch on her lower back told her she had successfully satisfied him.
There would be more abuse, no doubt, but she bore up under the thought
that this was her bad duty, and the rest of the celebrations should be
pleasant enough.

	"You are talented, my dear. So much better than the lad I have
to do that at home. He and my favorite girl take turns at it, seeing
who can last the longest without gagging. One mouth is like another,
wouldn't you say?"

	"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master," she answered rather thickly.

	"Here, wipe your face, my dear," he said handing her a scrap
of a rag. She took it to the basin, and surreptitiously rinsed her
mouth a time or two as she cleansed her face. Her face clean, although
there was still a bad taste in her mouth, she walked back and knelt in
front of Amir.

	"Now what shall I do with you?" Amir asked, more to himself
than Selima. He wandered over to the trunk and rummaged again. He
returned with a length of chain, a small crock, and a single bladed
whip. He kicked the rug aside, uncovering the lower ring, and removed
the hanging globe of witch-light from the hook in the ceiling.

	Selima came when she was beckoned and stretched for the
ceiling. Amir, standing on a chair, wrapped her wrists in the chains
and hung her from the ceiling. As she watched, he rubbed the whip with
some oil from the crock.

	"Every time you whimper, yelp or scream, my dear, I will ram
this whip up your hot little gash. That should only make it hotter.
You see, up north, they have this lovely plant called the pepper. I
have it cultivated in a hothouse back home, and the oil it makes is
quite the rage at the houses that cater to a more refined clientele.
The fruit is quite spicy to eat, and the oil burns any of the more
delicate membranes it contacts. This is your punishment for avoiding
me last night, my dear."

	Neither keeping verbal count himself, nor making her count the
blows, Amir began to beat the girl. The whip was slender, and on more
than one occasion broke the skin. He had not lied about the oil. Where
her back was cut, it burned like fire, and she had not been able to
contain her cry. The handle of the whip entered her, again as
promised, the oil making it burn horribly. She sobbed again, and the
handle thrust into her again, hard and deep.

	Regaining her control, Selima begged, "Please, Master.
Forgive a slave girl's foolishness. The first night you are in court I
am yours, save if my master claims me. Please."

	"You have learned one lesson, slave girl, now about my little
froggy friend... " He struck her again. Fortunately, Amir was given to
decadence and had little use for strenuous exercise. The cuts were not
deep and should heal quickly, but the pepper burned beyond endurance.
Selima heard the night bell toll again. Amir was breathing heavily
from the unaccustomed exertion.

	"I think that should be enough, my dear. Remember, the first
night is mine. I must rest a moment, and think."

	Placing the handle of the whip inside her, after a fresh coat
of oil, He tied her thighs together with the blade. Tears were rolling
freely and she gasped for breath in short cries.

	After resting a moment, he picked up the large beeswax candle
and brought it over to her. It was lit and a puddle of molten wax had
formed in a well. He held it in front of her and began to pour the hot
wax down onto the well-shaped breasts, concentrating especially on the
sensitive nipples.

	Already crying, there was little other form of expression
Selima could use. She hung her head and turned her face away.

	Having created a thick layer of wax on her body, most of it in
interesting patterns if he did say so himself, Amir set the candle
back down. "I think you have learned your lesson, my dear." He
unhooked her chained wrists from the hook and let her down. She
remained standing straight, since he had not given her permission to
move. "On your belly at my feet," he finally commanded.

	Moving awkwardly with the whip still tied inside of her,
Selima dropped first to her knees and then to her belly. The carpet
pressed the still-warm wax harder onto her skin. She felt the large K
he had drawn across her chest, the wax tightening as it began to
harden. He untied the whip and drew it out of her. A faint hope rose.
Perhaps this time he would be merciful and use her normally.

	The hope was crushed by the weight of him settling on her open
back. She knew the process. First would be some probing at the front
opening and then the ripping sensation at the back. Knowing it would
hurt less if she relaxed, she tried to think of more pleasant things,
like the butterflies in the garden, how pretty Gold-lily had looked in
the green silks this morning, and other pleasant thoughts. It helped
some.

	Then came the rending thrust at the back, with no forewarning.
Selima stifled a scream into the rug. Clenching her teeth on a corner
of it, she tried to inflict her pain on something other than her body.
She was torn open and it hurt and burned at the same time.

	The pain lessened only slowly; his thrusts came in deep harsh
bursts. Finally it was enough for him, and there was a crushing
sensation of his weight upon her, with the vile smell of his oiled
hair mingling noxiously with the heavy spice perfume he had requested
on her.

	Withdrawing, he stood up, and went to the basin. Fastidiously
cleaning himself, although she had left no residue, he wrapped the
robe back around him and stood in front of her.

	"I have had enough of you, my dear. You may return to the
harem, and reflect upon what you have learned. You proved most
satisfactory, as usual."

	"Thank you, Master," she said softly as she stood. He closed
the door after watching her until she was out of sight. The marks on
her back enhanced her greatly, and the thin pale red stream that was
slowly creeping down the back of her thigh was most arousing.

	He returned to the room, hung the witchlight globe back on its
hook, and began plotting what to do to the girl tomorrow, if there was
one.