The Republic Of Fear

Note to reader: This story follows the fortunes of Roya Ismailov, whose father Hossein Ismailov, is the absolute dictator of the Republic of Azerbaijan. Roya is his eldest and most feared daughter with an appetite for violence and sex. She's a businesswoman, criminal, fashion model, singer and holds the office for oil and gas within the government. She holds rank within military intelligence and is privy to state secrets and has ambitions of succeeding her father upon his demise. Beautiful, sultry and exotic to some, Roya has hazel eyes, blonde hair, light skin and curvy but petite body.

The room fills up with foreign diplomats, dignitaries and journalists and I take to the stage to deliver an address wearing my black cocktail dress. "Distinguished guests, friends and soon to be friends, on behalf of the Azerbaijani people and his Excellency President and Fatherly Leader Hossein Ismailov, I would like to welcome you to the Baku exhibition, heritage and historic center and museum. I am his Excellencies daughter, Roya Ismailov, who helped fund and build this exquisite building. I got the idea to build this center after spending much of my higher education abroad. While reading Economics and Political Science at the University of Paris or doing my Economics PHD at Harvard, I would visit these wondrous building."

This may look like a dull lecture on my philanthropy and on the history of the Azerbaijani people, but don't be fooled, for this is a lesson in power. This is a lesson in my power, ask yourself why I am opening this museum and the audience consists of foreigners, elite Azeris and TV crews, who enable ordinary Azerbaijanis to view my lecture from home and who are notable by their physical absence from the room. Little exercises like this are about raising my profile and building contacts, which will become useful as time goes on. Indeed this tale is my tale and my tale is about sex, because sex is about power, my power.

"Many of you see us a simply non-Russian ex-Soviet and I had to ask myself, why is that? Azerbaijan has a long, rich and proud culture, which was temporarily subdued by Russian Imperialism and later by Soviet Imperialism. In the 19th century, Tsarist Russia or White Russia, began expanding into Central Asia and displacing the Muslim Khanites that had ruled. They began breathing down our necks too and by the 20th century they had taken Northern Azerbaijan, which is today the Republic of Azerbaijan, where all of you are now and my family leads. Southern Azerbaijan became a province in Iran, where it still is today."

I pause briefly to let the point sink in, a little trick I've learned from Western Political leaders about oratory and speech giving. Watch President Obama, he does it all the time. "The Russian imposed their culture upon us, they changed our alphabet and tried to enforce Russian Culturalization upon us. We do not want Azerbaijan to continue to suffer from the effects of Russofication and we wanted the world to know our true roots. We have our own civilisation and it's important for every civilisations to meet one another, to know one another and to have a dialogue, a dialogue of civilisations, which is essential for world peace and an important reversal of the Clash of Civilisations." I hope former Iranian President Khatami does not mind me stealing his concept of the dialogue of the civilisations, but it sounded good as a piece of rhetoric.

"Yes we are closely related to the Persians and have a long history with Iran, but we are Turks and our origins lie in the steppes of Central Asia. We are a class of warriors, very closely related to Temujin, now most of you will not have heard of the name Temujin. But in fact you have heard of him, you just know him by his title, which many of you have mistaken for his name. The first part of his title is Genghis meaning great warrior and the second part of his title is Khan, which means leader or unifier of the tribes and can also be understood as Emperor too. Genghis was a great man."

Suddenly one of the Arab delegates interjects, "How can you call the Mongol hordes and their leaders-great? They were mass murders and destroyers of our heritage and culture! In 1258 they sacked Baghdad, which was then one of the greatest cities on earth in terms of science, art, culture and learning. The Grand Library of Baghdad, which had over 400, 000 manuscripts on astronomy, science, medicine, philosophy and other disciplines- a library which persevered the knowledge of the ancients- was destroyed by the Mongol Armies lead by Hulagu Khan (grandson of Genghis). The rivers of Iraq ran black with ink and Baghdad was depopulated."

Heritage is a tricky thing, I had forgotten that the Arabs still blamed the Mongols for bringing about the decline of their civilisation. But this event is not about the Mongols, it's about me and my future leadership. "I condemn the crimes committed by the Mongols and share with you the anguish of the destruction of heritage caused by them. But they are our ancestors and we must deal with them. However, the Mongols weren't all bad and their battle skills and the fact they crushed every army they encountered, inspired military men for generations. Besides when they came to rule, they were very tolerant of the local cultures they ruled over."

The Arab interjects again, "Correction the Mongols didn't beat every army they encountered. The Egyptian Mamlukes defeated the Mongol armies in Syria. The Mongols were an advance general infantry unit, but they could not take on special and elite forces units. The Mamlukes were the greatest and most elite fighting force of their day, they were the equivalent of the U.S. Navy Seals or Delta Force or the British SAS in today's world. Their training was not too dissimilar from them and the superior fighting skills of individual Mamlukes soldiers easily outwitted the Mongols."

"Thanks for the correction." What an asshole, seriously who does that? "Moving on from the Mongols, we see clear evidence of the Central Asian origins of the Azeri people. If you look at chronicles from the 15th and 16th century, you'll notice each year written as Year of the Rat or Year of the Horse, instead of 824 or 933 of the Hijra or Islamic calendar. Chinese years instead of Islamic years, we see this reflected in the chronicles of the Iranian Safavid dynasty. The Safavids who are credited with converting Iran from Sunni Islam to Shia Islam, were Azeri Turks like us. They were aided in their conquest by Azeri warriors called Qizilbash, who were among the fiercest fighting force the world had ever seen." Sub message don't fuck with me.

"Indeed the Qizilbash were famed for their heroics in battle and less gracefully for their cannibalism after battle. Called Qizilbash because of the red turbans they use to wear. But we are not only warriors, we are a deeply spiritual people. We are Shia Muslims like Iran, but our Shi'ism is based on Sufism and spiritualism and not dogmatism. We share culture, but not politics with Iran, we do not want to be an Islamic Republic, because this goes against our culture roots." An important message aimed at the American delegations, they will read my political leanings based on these words and my speech on history.

But this evening is also important because by telling a very nationalistic history, I am presenting myself and my father's regime as legitimate rulers, who the world must deal with. We present ourselves as being the upholders of Azerbaijani traditions and part of the return to local rule after foreign imperialism. It helps soften the arguments made against us in the west, for I owe my position to my father, who when the Soviet Union collapsed launched a military coup to seize the presidency. After the colonial era, many countries were returned to local rule by local strongmen (dictators), who overwhelming came from military and security forces backgrounds. This is because they understood how underdeveloped their societies were, but also they were men who understood the uses of power and how power worked and more importantly, how to use modern technology to yield power.

My father was no different. He attended officer school in Moscow and took command of Soviet Units. He was involved in operation in Afghanistan and was injured in fighting there during the 1980's. He was a member of the politburo and the Communist party, he was very close to those in power and watched them very carefully. He was fiercely loyal to them and made himself indispensable to them, and only struck when he had build up enough power for himself. Very shrewd man. However, he removed all opponents by force and surrounded himself with loyalists, I remember his first act of president was to purge parliament of disloyal elements.

He ordered a closed session of parliament and had the military surround the building, he then had a witness brought before parliament to attest to being part of an Iranian plot to overthrow his government. The witness claimed there were a secret group or cabal of conspirators in parliament, who he plotted with. The charges were all untrue and the witness had been produced when our security forces took him and forced him to confess to this non-existent crime. All 600 members of parliament had their names read out and my father would ask the witness, as their names were read, if that person was a conspirator or not. He would say, "Hossein is he a conspirator?" and the witness would answer, "No, Hossein is not a conspirator." My father would ten ask, "How about Ali?" and the witness would respond, "Yes, I use to meet with Ali a great deal."

Ali would then be taken out of parliament by guards-none of the members of parliament knew whether their names were on the list of conspirators or not. 80 people were on the list and as a reward to the 520 loyal parliamentarians, they had the honor of executing the 80 and they were handed guns and told to shoot, while my father watched. The idea was to assert my father's authority and instil fear- but by getting the parliamentarians to execute the traitors-he was also making them complicit. This characterised my father's rule fear, terror and complicity and this earned us the nickname the Republic of Fear. We spent a lot of money on Secret Police divisions and kept the population under watch. But we created more than one and got the different intelligence and security services to compete with one another. A good way of ensuring our power.

Of course these brutal methods of obtaining power are unpopular abroad, but the outside world does not understand the chaos Azerbaijan was in. Our country and people are not ready for democracy and my father's rule ensured stability and without him there would be chaos. The chaos would eventually lead to an Islamist take-over and global security would be threatened, women would be oppressed and Azerbaijan would cease to-be a state and become like Afghanistan or Somalia. The people understand that and all of them love my father. This is why when there was an uprising last year, we knew it was a foreign conspiracy, because how can the people be against us after all we've done for them? The brutal crackdown was necessary.

Going to war with our neighbour Armenia, didn't help our international image either. But now I seek to repair our International image, I'm the next generation and I have different ideas about how to govern Azerbaijan, and of course, my father is old and I plan to succeed him, not that anyone knows this yet. It all about power, power is an aphrodisiac and after today's long presentation, I'm looking forward to my lusty dinner.

I enter the large dining hall in the presidential palace I call home, I enter with my foreign delegate guests and they are shocked by what they see. A large dinning food with excessive amounts of food and wine befitting of a large banquet, but in-between the food plates and wine bottles are girls who are tied up and have mouth gags-balls on. They are lying down on large silver serving trays on the table and most are naked from the waist down. In-front of them is large pumping machines with rods sticking out of them and attached to these rods are large dildos.

"Come on guests, be seated, we do not want the food to get cold for this is very disrespectful in our culture. As you can see we have some light dinner entertainment ready and what better entertainment is there but beautiful Azerbaijani girls? We are a moderate country; we love our food, our wine and our women. Please get stuck in and the entertainment shall begin."

The guests reluctantly sit down and still looked shocked, "Okay, let's begin." The guest start eating the starters, I signal and the servants turn on the machines and the machine pumps back and forth at excessive speed, or in the case of the girls, in and out at excessive speed. It looks like a Turkey is being stuffed. The girls try to groan, scream, cry and grunt, but the ball gags in their mouths prevent sound from fully coming out. "I look forward to seeing who is a squirter and who is not," I remark.

The guests become comfortable and the wine makes them brave, we talk normally, as if girls are not being masturbated on the table. Some of the guests place their wine glasses on the girls stomachs, other who are more adventurous pour wine onto their bellies and lick it off them. Some of the guests are visibly masturbating over the entertainment.

"I'm thirsty, I would like some milk." I let out, "Bring me the milk woman!" Within seconds my staff return with a heavily pregnant woman, the guests look on with confusion, "I'm thirsty and you know what to do." The woman pulls her top and bra off and exposes her bare breasts, she sits on the table in-front of me and I place my mouth on her nipple. I start sucking and milk is produced from the tit, a servant stands over me with a towel ready and everything few moments when I take a pause, he wipes my chin and outer mouth down and then I resume.

I'm like a pig at breakfast, very undignified in my manner of being breast fed, but I am incredibly hungry. I even burp a few times. Every time I stop to take a breath, I have a quick look at the guests and see them admiring me and then I go back in for more. Eventually, I finish with the breast feeding and then I order the lady to leave. I turn to my servants and ask them to bring my pleasure boy. Again within seconds they produce this evenings male sex slave, he's only 19 years old, but quite a stud. He comes dressed in ripped denim shorts (which were jeans), which also had a hole in the butt area leaving his tight butt exposed.

"Come and sit in my lap!" The male sex slave sits in my laps and I start stroking his exposed leg and squeezing his knee caps. The slave picks up food from my plate and feeds it to me. Meanwhile, one of the girls being masturbated cums, "She came? Servants, put her cum in a glass and bring it to me." The servant walks over to the girl, he stops the machine and pulls it away from her, he takes the glass and using his fingers, tries to get as much of the cum out of the girl's pussy as he can. Once he has poured as much into the glass as he could get, he walks over to me and hands me the glass.

I take the glass, "Cheers, here to drinking from the poison chalice." Everyone laughs and I take a sip, "Interesting taste," I say with my first sip. I smell the glass, shake it near my ear and then take another sip and move it around my mouth, like you do when you are testing wine. "Rosemary, hint of lime and little bit salty, if I am not mistaken." I take more sips and then I decide to down it in one go. The guests go wild and are egging me on. "Ladies and gentlemen, that was excellent. A round of cum for everyone at the table." We got the girls to produce more cum and served it to our guests.

The conversation continued as normal, midway through it, I got a little bit bored and so I unzipped the sex slave's shorts and began jerking him off. There's me jerking him off, while keeping a straight face and talking about the economy. Eventually, he becomes desperate to cum and I place his dick into my half-full glass of wine and force him to cum in it. Once he is done, I start drinking my cum flavoured wine. Very delicious, after finishing the wine, I force him to stand up and bend over on the table. His butt is in the air and I order for my 12-inch strapon to be brought in, again, within seconds it is brought. I strap it on me and open his cheeks, I take a moment to tease the cheeks with the strapon.

At a moment of my choosing, I suddenly insert the strapon dildo into his butt. I go in one sweeping move and go all the way up his anus, until the whole strapon is in. I kiss the back of his head and stand upright again and commence the ass-fucking. I move in and out with increasing speed force his outer cheeks to go red. He screams, cries and shouts and I laugh and tease, this entire sexual exercise is a performance for my guest and it is all about power, my power, absolute power and a demonstration of my will. The guests leave the dinner party that evening in good cheer.

The Leaks,

News report, "The cyber hacktavist group, John Doe, have accessed personal files, emails and documents from the Azerbaijani regime and published them. They include lewd details of the sex life of Roya Ismailov, President Ismailov's daughter, as well as evidence of her corruption and abuses of human rights conducted by her. According to one file, Roya, regular uses the country's feared intelligence service to keep reports of men's penis sizes, which she uses when deciding to pick a partner from the general public. She also ventures out into the city in disguise and picks random strangers for sex and once she has had sex with them, she has them executed, according to the documents."

It's truly fascinating, I've been accused of violence and torture in many of these documents and the part the international news chooses to focus on, is my sex life, isn't that a little bit odd? Not really, someone leaked these documents, someone who knows about my plans for succession and wants to put a stop to it. Torture and murder is expected, but a hypersexualised female is considered scandalous and ruins my reputation within my family and in the eyes of my father. We have traitors in our midsts and we must sniff him or her out.

Rule of power is known the traitor before they know themselves, unfortunately, I took my eye of the ball and missed the traitor and now it may be too late unless I act decisively. Fortunately, the allegations will not be repeated in the Azerbaijani media, but perhaps I need to use them to go on the offensive. Meanwhile, I will watch carefully to see who the traitor is, I am going to meet my father later and I will watch his cabinet and civil servants closely and then I will act.

A few hours later..

Things didn't go according to plan, my father refused to see me and I was addressed by him through his senior advisor, who gave me a dressing down. This is very dangerous, when my own father won't talk to me, it means I am out of his power circle and he doesn't want to be seen talking to me in order to put himself at a distance. The other thing is, he's not a well-man, he's been ill for some time now and his mind is irritable and this makes him more susceptible to the circle around him.

You know my grandmother use to warn me about that. She was a peasant woman from a village in the north that is not too far from the city of Shaki, which has views of the Great Caucasus Peaks and is on the Russian border and within driving distance of the Caspian Sea- beginning to go off topic here. Anyway, she was a superstitious women who believed in pray and magic to cure any alignments. Once, when I visited her as a child, she sat me down and began telling me about her life and beliefs, she warned me to beware of the power of circles. Friendships, beliefs, power and ideas are always concentrated in circles and these circles blind you to other people's circles. This makes the world blind.