Scheherazade and the King Ch. 06

He pulled off his cloak and let it fall to the ground, undressing as he stared at the girl.

She is so beautiful, he thought as he pulled his shirt over his head, if she were a woman of rank, she could have this whole kingdom's gentry wrapped around her finger.

Shariyar kicked off his boots: But she isn't. She is worth nothing. She is common.

And yet here she is, he thought as he pulled his trousers off, sleeping in a king's bed. Alive when so many princesses and noble women are dead. She is nothing compared to them.

Even in his mind, Shariyar could not say that last sentence with full conviction. He knew the girl was clever, that she was strong, and that she wielded a strange power over him. And he knew that it was only a matter of time before she came to the same realisation.

Suddenly the girl stirred: she murmured softly in her sleep as she rolled over onto her back. Her eyes blinked open for a moment and then shot wide when she realised who she was looking at. Scheherazade sat up sharply and pushed herself away from the king, pulling the shirt down to cover more of her thighs.

"Did you miss me, gypsy?" Shariyar asked.

"No, but I can see you missed me," she said, glancing pointedly down at Shariyar's hardening member.

He laughed slightly and took his member in his hand, stroking his length slowly.

"Would you like to taste how much I missed you?" He asked, flashing her a wolfish grin.

"No," she muttered.

"Are you sure?" He asked mockingly. "I had three women in Cyrria and each one wanted a mouthful. Unfortunately they had to share."

"Then you should have brought them back with you," she said icily. "Or could you not afford them?"

"Why should I pay them when I have a perfectly good slave waiting for me?"

"Well you will have to pay me as well if you expect me to act like I enjoy it," she said.

"Oh so you can be bought?" He asked, his eyes sparking wickedly.

Scheherazade glared at the king as he turned away from her and pulled a robe around his shoulders. He left the room without another word, leaving her alone.

When Shariyar came back he found the girl waiting for him, her eyes narrowed warily.

He approached her slowly and then held out his hand, opening his fingers slowly to reveal the Egyptian eye bead he had taken from her.

Scheherazade gasped slightly and reached out for the charm but Shariyar closed his fist and drew his hand back sharply.

He walked lazily towards the table and sat down, spreading his legs so that his manhood was clearly visible to her.

"Do you want this back, gypsy?" He asked, a smug smile curling his lips.

Scheherazade bowed her head as she replied: "Yes."

"Come here," he demanded.

The girl climbed out of bed slowly, approaching him with measured steps.

Shariyar waited until she was a few feet away from him before commanding her to stop.

"Right there," he said. "Get on your knees."

Scheherazade knelt to the ground, her fingers playing nervously at the hem of her shirt.

"What would you do to keep me from smashing it into a thousand tiny pieces?" The king asked, rolling the bead between his fingers.

"Please don't," the girl said, the desperation evident in her voice.

"What would you do?" He asked again.

"Anything," she murmured.

"I want you to crawl to me on your hands and knees," he said, his dick hardening between his legs. "I want you to use that pretty mouth of yours and convince me that you did miss me. I want you to moan around my cock and tell me how good I taste and how big I am until I cum all over your face. Then, and only then, will you get this back."

"And you will let me keep it?" She asked quietly.

"Yes," he said.

"I had fifteen of these charms," she reminded him.

"I'm offering you the chance to earn each of them back," he said. "All you have to do is be the obedient little slave I know you can be."

Anger flashed in Scheherazade eyes as she stared at the king.

"Come now," he taunted. "Be a good girl and crawl to me."

Slowly the girl got on her hands and knees and began to crawl across the floor. A shiver went up Shariyar's spine as he watched her shirt ride up.

She came to a halt between his legs and sat up on her knees.

"Take that shirt off," Shariyar ordered.

The girl pulled the shirt over her head and let it fall to the ground beside her.

"Tell me you want my cock, gypsy," the king said, his voice low and dark. "Beg for it."

The girl glanced up at him and, for a split second, he saw the words she really wanted to say in her piercing gaze. Then she trained her eyes on the floor and spoke.

"I want you, Shariyar," she murmured. "Please let me suck your cock."

"Not 'Shariyar'," he said suddenly. "You will call me 'master'."

The girl's lips trembled angrily as she spoke again: "Please, master, I want to suck your cock."

"Say it like you mean it, slave," Shariyar purred.

Scheherazade scowled and looked away.

Shariyar leaned forward in his chair and grabbed the girl's chin, pulling her face towards his: "If you don't want me to crush that bead beneath the heel of my boot, you will say it like you mean it."

The girl's eyes stormed and her upper lip curled in disgust.

"Say it," he said, his fingers harsh.

"Master, please let me suck your cock," Scheherazade murmured, her voice low and seductive.

"That's better," he said, leaning back in the chair. "Yes, you may."

The girl took his manhood gently into her mouth, running her tongue around the tip of his cock before taking it deep into her throat.

Shariyar groaned as the tip of his dick pressed against the back of her throat. He felt her slowly draw back before gulping him down again, she moaned softly around his cock as she repeated the motion again and again. Finally she pulled back and let his cock fall from her lips.

"Do you like the way my dick tastes?" He asked breathlessly.

"Yes," the girl murmured, her lips full and flushed.

"Turn around and put your face on the floor," he said. "Keep your hands behind your back."

Shariyar stroked his sex as he watched her bend over, press her cheek to the floor and overlap her wrists firmly behind her back.

"Now tell me what you want, girl," he said.

"Master, please give me your cock," she murmured. "Please give it to me."

For a few moments, the king did not move other than to feel his manhood as he stared at the girl. Her voice was steady, her tone convincing, but he could see the angry tears that she was fighting to hold back and he could tell that she was having to steel her fingers from shaking.

He knelt down behind her and ran his fingers along her sides until they came to rest on her hips. Shariyar positioned his length at the entrance to her womanhood and pushed in, forcing her to take all of him at once. The girl cried out and she made to move her hands but Shariyar grabbed her wrists and held them in place, pressing down on her back so that her face was forced harder against the floor.

Scheherazade tried not to cry as she felt Shariyar force herself inside her. Pain radiated through her chest at the effort it took for her to hold back her true feelings. She felt as if she could barely breathe, her throat burned so harshly from the sobs she was choking down.

Again and again she reminded herself of why she had to do this... But a terrible question loomed in her mind: What if the past I am so desperate to discover is not worth the sacrifice?

Her mind was brought back to the present as Shariyar withdrew from her suddenly. He pulled her to her knees by her hair and, with a rasping cry, emptied his load across her face.

Shariyar laughed breathlessly, his grip on her hair vicious as he kept her from sinking to the ground.

"You are the cheapest fuck I've ever had, gypsy," he said. "For the price of six beads, three shells, three stones, two bits of carved bone and one coin, I can do anything I want to you."

The girl closed her eyes as tears began to drip slowly down her cheeks.

"You think these worthless curios will help you figure out who you are?" He asked, his tone growing increasingly harsh. "Do you really think anyone cares? If anyone gave a fuck about you, don't you think they would have found you by now?"

The king stared down at her, finding some twisted satisfaction in the tears and cum that streaked her flawless skin.

"Even if someone was looking for you, I do not think they will want you back now," he mused darkly. "Not when they see what you've have become. Not when they learn everything I've done to you."

The girl looked up at him, the heartbreak clear in her teary eyes.

"You're pathetic," he snarled.

Shariyar glared into her brilliant eyes for a few moments more and then spat on her face. The girl flinched as the king's saliva slowly dripped down her face.

The king let her go and she sank to to the ground, her head bowed and her shoulders slumped.

Scheherazade was silent as Shariyar pulled his pants on. She desperately fought to control her tears so that she could speak without sobbing.

"Give it back to me," she said finally, her voice a low whisper.

"Was that an order?" Shariyar asked. His tone was sharp but taunting.

"Well it was not a request," she hissed.

The king walked towards her slowly, his anger building with each deliberate step.

"I am under no obligation to you," he said.

"You gave your word," the girl cried, rising shakily to her feet. "You promised!"

"You dare take that tone with me kunde?" He roared.

"Baleh, kiri," Scheherazade snarled in return.

Before she even had a chance to react, the king's hand was around her neck and he was dragging her across the room. The girl coughed and gasped as he wrenched her out the door and down the hallway, trying desperately to keep her balance.

Shariyar pulled her along the corridor, not caring who saw her naked, cum-stained body, opened the door to the dungeons and pushed her inside.

Scheherazade stumbled but managed to keep her balance. She turned around to see Shariyar looming in the doorway.

"Here," he said, tossing the bead into the darkness beyond her. "It's all yours if you can find it."

++++++++

Jafar paced his room agitatedly, unable to keep his mind or his feet from racing. He had been on edge for days now, ever since he had seen the falcon at his window, a scarlet band tied to its leg. Shahzaman had not sent a falcon in months — indeed, the last time he had come, he had given neither Jafar nor Hazim any warning whatsoever.

But the falcon had come three days ago, and still there was no sign of the banished prince.

The vizier sat down on his bed dejectedly and stared at the floor, his mind so preoccupied that he did not notice a figure clothed all in black climb through the window.

Shahzaman cleared his throat softly to announce his presence but Jafar still leapt at the sudden sound.

The two men stared at each other in silence, each waiting for the other to speak first.

"Did you see her?" Jafar said finally, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

"Yes," the prince responded.

"Is she all right?" He asked.

"She is as well as she can be," Shahzaman said with a shrug.

The vizier nodded and looked away.

"Are you angry with me?" The prince asked quietly.

Jafar looked at him sharply: "You know I am."

"You must be patient," Shahzaman said. "There are greater forces at work than I have control over."

"I cannot lose another person I care about to Shariyar's madness," Jafar said, his hands balled into fists as he tried to keep his tone in check. "I cannot do it."

"Why does this girl matter to you?" Shahzaman asked, his silver eyes lowered. "She is a stranger to you."

"She saved me," Jafar muttered, "and in more ways than one."

"I would not have let him kill you," the prince said.

"And yet you would have let him kill her," Jafar snapped.

"He was never going to kill her," Shahzaman said.

"What do you know?" Jafar hissed. "Did you ever imagine he would hurt you the way he did?"

Shahzaman sat down sullenly, his head in his hands: "You care for her, don't you?"

"I do," Jafar said resolutely.

"The way you cared for Nerin?" The prince asked.

"Yes," Jafar said, the memory of his fiancé's olive skin and steely green eyes suddenly fresh in his mind.

"The way you care for me?"

The vizier felt his heart shudder in his chest.

"No," he said, after a moment's pause. "Not the way I care you."

"You care for me differently?"

"Yes," Jafar said. "I love you."

"You would have married Nerin had she not succumbed to illness. Is that not a display of love?" Shahzaman asked, bitterness evident in his voice. "And what of this girl? Would you have married her too?"

"To save her from Shariyar's cruelty, I would have," Jafar said.

"And what would you do for me?" The prince asked, his silver eyes flashing like lightning.

"What haven't I done for you?" Jafar asked incredulously. "Every day since the day you left I have waited here, doing exactly as you asked me to do. I have remained at Shariyar's side even though I should have torn his still-beating heart from his chest for what he did to you. I would have killed him that night had you not ordered otherwise. I have played my part well, Shahzaman, and for what? To remain powerless as he degrades a woman who has done nothing to deserve it? To listen as you question my loyalty?"

Shahzaman set his jaw as he listened to Jafar's rant.

"Every day I hate myself more and more for my inaction and yet still I remain here," he continued furiously. "I stay because you told me to. And then you abandon me for months on end without offering even the slightest gesture to show that you still care for me. And then Scheherazade comes into my life and I can do nothing but watch her suffer."

"I do not question your loyalty," Shahzaman said. "I question your love."

The look that gleamed in Jafar's viridescent eyes was murderous.

"How do you have love in your heart for so many?" The prince asked, unfazed by the vizier's glare. "How can you love Scheherazade and me?"

"I love you differently," Jafar said. "I love her and Nerin like I love the moon, but you... you are my sun."

"It must be nice to be able to love so many at once," Shahzaman muttered.

Jafar shook his head and looked down at the young man: "Sometimes I forget you and your brother are cut from the same cloth."

Shahzaman looked up at Jafar, the anger in his eyes replaced all at once by heartbreak and regret: "I'm sorry."

The vizier groaned into his hands: "Why do you doubt me still?"

"Look at me, Jafar!" The prince cried, pulling open his shirt to reveal the tortured flesh beneath. "How can you love me when I look like this?"

The vizier walked towards him slowly, reaching out to gently run his fingers along the prince's scarred jaw.

"I have always loved you," Jafar murmured. "I loved you when your soul was far uglier than your scars."

"But why?" The prince asked.

"That will always be a mystery to me," the vizier said. "But I do not know what else I can do to prove my love for you. I love you more deeply than I've ever loved another person."

Shahzaman sighed: "I just cannot understand why."

"I can see how that might be difficult for you," Jafar said, a hint of bitterness colouring his tone. "I should hate you for the things you've put me through. Do you have any idea what that girl has gone through at his hands? And I could have helped her had my love for you not kept my own hands firmly bound."

"I did not tell you to dismiss her the way you did," the prince countered defensively. "I did not insist that you abandon her."

"I was angry," Jafar said, his voice low and quiet. "Neither you nor your brother wanted me anywhere near her and then, suddenly, neither did she. I was angry — I said things I did not mean."

The prince reached out and ran his thumb across Jafar's cheek, cupping his face against the palm of his hand.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

Jafar nodded but pulled away from the man's touch.

"What are you here for?" He sighed.

"You," the prince said. "I am here for you."

The vizier scowled: "And what do you want of me?"

The prince stepped towards him and wrapped his arms around the small of Jafar's back, pulling him towards him sharply: "Everything you are willing to give me."

Jafar moaned under his breath as Shahzaman's mouth whispered across his neck.

"You've missed me," the prince murmured, his lips brushing against Jafar's skin. "I know because I have missed you greatly."

"I have," the vizier admitted, closing his eyes so that he could get lost in the prince's taste and touch.

"May I show you how much I've missed you?" The prince asked, his fingers already tugging at the waist of Jafar's trousers.

The vizier could only murmur his consent as the prince's mouth began to wander down his body.

"I want to hear you say it," Shahzaman said, his breath hot against Jafar's skin. "Tell me how much you need me."

"I need you so badly it aches," Jafar said, tangling his fingers in the prince's hair. "I need to feel every inch of you inside me. I need to feel your mouth around my cock."

Shahzaman looked up at him, his silver eyes full of mischief: "Do you remember our first night? Do you remember how you begged me?"

"Yes," Jafar admitted.

"I was hard on you," Shahzaman reminded him as he rose to his feet. "The sounds you made were music to me - no matter how pained they were."

"You were too big," the vizier said breathlessly. "You went too fast."

"Did I hurt you?" Shahzaman asked, his fingernails digging into Jafar's ass sharply.

"Yes," he hissed. "You left me so sore I could hardly walk."

"But you came back for more, didn't you?" The prince asked.

"Yes," he said. "I wanted you so badly."

The prince's fingers were gentle suddenly and he drew away from Jafar to stare intently into his eyes: "You always came back to me, even when I was cruel to you. Even when Shariyar destroyed my looks, you still came back to me."

"I love you," the vizier said again. "Your looks never mattered to me."

"You deserve more than me," he said. "A scarred, broken man... a disgraced prince."

"You are all I want," he said resolutely. "And you ought to start believing me before I change my mind."

"So, may I stay with you tonight?" The prince asked. "Can I have you? All of you?"

"Yes," he said. "If it were up to me, you would never leave."

"Soon, hopefully, I won't have to," Shahzaman said as he shrugged his shirt off.

"Your brother is going to be in for one hell of a shock," Jafar chuckled as he pulled his own shirt over his head.

"I know," Shahzaman sighed, running his nails gently down Jafar's taught abdomen. "His best friend... in love with his little brother."

++++++++

Shariyar woke up the next morning in a dark mood. He had not slept well without the gypsy in his bed — a fact that made him terribly angry at both himself and her.

He went about his day without bothering to send anyone to check on her or offer her food or water. He focused his mind on his work, engaging fully with every ambassador and representative that he met with. It was only when he entered a council meeting with his financial ministers that his mind began to wander. As his ministers blabbered on blithely about the state of the treasury, he leafed lazily through the stack of papers before him. Suddenly he noticed a piece of parchment covered in unfamiliar handwriting. He read a few sentences and quickly realised that he was reading Scheherazade's story.