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“Rescue my son, and you can have your freedom,” the Moghul’s great general had said to me.
And now I clung to the top of the ruined wall that surrounded the rough cobbled yard in which the wiry Mongolian horsemen were holding him. The general’s son was one of many the general had, but Kasim had been made a prince as he was the most handsome and most intelligent. And all knew he was a favourite of the Great Moghul himself, as well as of his father, the Moghul’s great general.
Before I left the palace I had been shown a picture of Kasim. One painted by a great artist, to enable me to identify the prince when I found him. Because I had been a prisoner in the Moghul’s dungeons, and had never seen the young prince who I was supposed to rescue. In the painting his golden skin and glossy black hair were perfect, and short glossy curls also cascaded across his chest, circling his dark nipples and descending in an arousing trail down his belly. To disappear below the waist of his baggy pants. I had felt my cock engorging at the image of him, and the general had pulled aside my tented loincloth to see my famous tool. I was well known in certain parts of the Moghul’s palace for my manhood being as thick as that of a fine stallion, if not as long.
My brief imprisonment had not been very onerous, as I’d had a number of grateful visitors come to my cell, and leave satisfied. But the great general had not been one. Now he grasped my weapon in his short fingered hands and his eyes widened as the feel of his hands about me made me fill out further, and harden to almost my full potential.
His head fell to my pole and I gripped his jewelled turban as he moved his mouth over my big bulbous cock head. I grunted as his two hands strained to encircle me and his tongue played all about the small part of my length that he had inside his mouth. He pulled away before I shot my juice, and called over a fine tall warrior who had visited me privately and who now came over, trembling and smiling at me.
“I am curious to see if a man can truly take such a massive weapon,” the great general said, “And as I know this young pasha claims to have visited you to have you bury your sword inside him, I wish to see if he can take it now.”
The young nobleman stripped of his rich uniform as ordered, and lay forward over the back of a fine carved chair, inlaid with ivory, and many coloured woods. He gripped the arms with his hands, and turned his head to look over his shoulder at me with fear and longing, as I moved between this spread thighs. I used spit and my thick fingers to prepare him as the watching general pulled out his own stiff organ, and began to stroke it.
The young pasha opened quickly to me, as I knew he would from our previous meetings. And I rapidly had him moaning and arching his back and opening his legs wider, begging me to plunge my huge sword into him. I stroked his own tool briefly and he spouted across the floor in big spurts. And I heard the general moan as he became more excited at seeing this.
In spite of my fingering of his entrance and his passage I had to hold my weapon steady to drive it’s domed head into the pasha’s loosened hole. He cried out loudly, and writhed and opened himself wider, as my cap passed the barrier at his entrance. Then he gulped and whimpered as I forced my rod in deeper, relishing the tightness with which his channel embraced me.
The general came, watching intently as I bottomed inside the young man to the combined sound of the nobleman’s loud cries of pain and desire, and the general’s crying out his amazement that anyone could take me fully, as the young man was doing. My fucking of the canlı bahis yelping young pasha was brief, as I had not had a visitor for two days, and I filled him happily with a goodly load of my seed. I was roaring as I came, accompanied by his high pitched cries of ecstasy as he felt his insides being truly flooded.
I shortly after departed the palace on a fast horse, relaxed and able to concentrate on my task. I reached the small summer palace from which the young prince had been taken, and I gained hourly on his kidnappers. When I reached the hills though I abandoned my horse, and continued on foot, running easily across the rough ground for many miles until I caught up with the raiders at an old abandoned fort atop a rugged hill at the edge of the desert. The entrance was sealed with old rotting gates that offered little protection, but hid what was inside from me. So in the dark of early morning I climbed up the still strong but weathered stone wall of the fort to get a view of what lay inside.
What greeted my sharp eyes was a small courtyard roughly cobbled and now home to a small Mongol raiding party. And I saw through a fallen archway another roofless space in which they had their small hardy desert horses stabled. And on the other side of the courtyard I saw their captive.
I moved in silence around the top of the wall until I was no more than 15 feet above the captive, but unfortunately some feet to one side, as the wall had an old section of roof jutting from it that would have hidden the captive from my sight had I moved closer. And there was little doubt that the travel stained and dusty young man tied up below me was the one I sought.
His wrists were tied by a leather cord, his arms pulled up above his head and the cord secured to a beam in the section of roof that remained above him. His rich clothes were dirty and torn in places, his jewelled belt gone, his turban gone, and his dark hair dusty and hanging to his shoulders. His many silk shirts hung about him in layers as did his fine silken baggy pants. His feet were bare, stripped of their jewelled slippers, and just touching the ground.
But as yet there was nothing I could safely do to rescue him. I was alone and the 6 Mongol horsemen were standing about with their short swords in their belts and their bows, with thier quivered arrows, on their backs. And their knives handy in the narrow belts that ran across their chests. I would have to wait for nightfall for a chance to rescue the general’s son.
I lay hidden and patient in a hollow in the top of the yard thick wall. Watching and waiting through the heat of the day. After a time the one I took to be the leader of the Mongols by his fine furred boots and richly embroidered vest, stepped up to the young prince and spoke to him, and I listened intently to catch his words.
“I Tiro will have your aching arms lowered so that you can write that letter to your father, and they will stay lowered from then on and you will be free to walk about the camp,” the Mongol leader Tiro said.
“I will never write a letter begging my father to ransom me,” hissed the young prince in reply, and he spat at the Mongol.
The young prince was brave, but foolish. I was frustrated as I did not want him harmed before I could rescue him, but there was no way I could reveal my presence to him now.
Tiro wiped his hand across his dark face, and then gave the prince the back of that hand, and I heard the slap as it met his face and turned it aside. I doubted the young prince had ever known real danger before and hoped he did nothing else that was foolish.
But the Mongol lord was no fool either. He bahis siteleri did not want his prize damaged seriously.
“I will have you write again to your father, this time telling him that you are alive still. But that you wont be, if he doesn’t send the gold I have asked him for,” Tiro said, as he removed his fancy leather vest, his bow, his sword, and his thick belts.
That done, Tiro stepped back up to the prince. “We will see if I can make you beg me to allow you to write to your father,” he said, and smiled an evil smile.
The young prince looked at him with defiance. “Never,” he said loudly.
Then the Mongol took hold of the prince’s golden outer coat and ripped it from him, the prince exclaiming in anger. Then Tiro took hold of the next layer and ripped that open too, then he did the same to the next layer, and again and again, until prince Kasim’s sweating golden chest wiht its patter of black gloy curls was exposed between the layers of torn fabric hanging at his sides.
The Mongol leader then moved his hands to the young prince’s chest and stroked it. And he worried the dark nipples with his fingers, pinching and flicking at them, till the young prince jerked and cried, “I will never write to my father for you.” But Tiro merely continued rolling both nipples between his fingers and smiled evilly at Kasim
Then his captor walked behind Kasim and did the same again, tearing open the back of each shirt, until the prince stood with the rags of his finery hanging from his shoulders and fluttering like streamers in the breeze.
“I will never beg you,” the young prince cried out through clenched teeth, as Trio ran his hands over Kasim’s back and nipped and tongued his neck and shoulders.
The Mongol, Tiro, laughed, and tore the silken strips from Kasim’s golden body, the princes body jerking as the fabric was ripped from his shoulders. And between tearing the brightly coloured silken strips away Tiro worried the young princes nipples and stroked his hands over his body in an intimate way. In a short time the prince stood there naked from the waist up. His muscular torso glistening with sweat and his chest heaving rhythmically as he breathed.
“Never”, he said proudly, averting his eyes from Tiro’s face.
The Mongol bent his head and sucked loudly on the prince’s large dark nipples as the prince writhed and yelped, “Never, never.”
Then his captor took hold of the waist of prince Kasim’s baggy pants and tore the outer ones open so they fell down about his ankles. Then he tore the waist of his under ones and they too fell about his ankles. And Tiro laughed a deep laugh of pleasure. As now the young prince stood there all but naked, his golden skinned muscular torso running down into his tight narrow hips. And the black glossy curls running down his belly, past his navel, to the lush jungle surrounding his long engorged cock and large balls.
I was most impressed by what I now saw of the young prince. What had been hidden was as good as what had been on display in the painting I had seen. Yes, he was a very fine young man. And I saw with some interest that his cock was almost fully engorged. I reached under my loincloth and stroked my own growing tool. But I also worried at where the Mongol’s treatment of the young prince might be leading.
“I will not help you to get your ransom from my father,” the naked captive cried out bravely. “I will never write a letter to him for you.”
Tiro laughed, and stepped up to the young prince and took hold of Kasim’s long manhood and began running both his hands up and down it, and fingering and stroking his thumb over the cap.
The bahis şirketleri prince struggle and kicked, and two other raiders were waved in to hold his feet still, which they did. But I also noticed that they parted his legs as they held them. And the Mongol leaders hands had not left young prince Kasim’s goodly sized pole.
Then one of Tiro’s hands went under Kasim’s balls and back between the prince’s legs. And I also saw the hand of one of the men holding his feet down go up to the prince’s firm round ass and disappear, and knew that both were now fingering the young prince’s hole.
Their fingers had barely entered him though when Kasim cried out and shot his load all over his captor. And I shot mine, my roar choking in my throat. Whatever result the Mongol leader had expected it was obvious the young prince was enjoying what was being done to him.
The Mongol leader then pulled his own erect and throbbing tool free of his pants and stroked it over Kasim’s belly and thighs, before moving behind the prince and stroking it over his cheeks. Then I saw him place his thick stubby rod to the prince’s arse and stroke it up and down between the cheeks and over his entrance.
Then Tiro knelt behind the prince, parting his firm round butt and sending his tongue down to Kasim’s puckered gate of pleasure. A gate I myself was now eager to open and enter. It was not long till Tiro stood again and placed a hand on Kasim’s belly to hold him back as he began to feed his weapon in. The prince pulled on his restraints, and rotated his hips and gave small cry’s that sounded more like ones of pleasure than pain, as the Mongol leaders thick tool progressed inside him.
Once his captor was in and had begun to pump him the young prince moved his hips back and forth in eagerness, joining the bandits plowing and making the fucking he was getting even deeper and more pleasurable for both of them.
It was not long before another member of the band came forward and swallowed Kasim’s refilling tool, and began to suck and slurp on it as he cupped the princes balls and stoked his inner thighs. The young prince was moaning and begging, but he was begging loudly for thicker and deeper, not to write a letter to his father.
I saw the Mongol leader jerk as he shot his juice deep into the young prince’s belly. And I heard Kasim cry out at the feel of it filling him, and jerk in turn as he filled the mouth of the Mongol raider giving his weapon attention.
The Mongol pulled out and whispered to the prince, and stroked his hands over his belly and chest and sucked on his nipples.
Finally I heard the young prince moaning, “Yes, yes.”
The Mongol laughed and waved an arm, and a man came hurrying over bearing a flat board carrying a piece of parchment and pen and ink. The young prince’s arms were released from their bonds, and once they had eased and he could use his hands, he wrote shakily but quickly.
The Mongol seemed very pleased that Kasim had done as he was asked at last.
Then prince Kasim was tied up again. But the cord attaching him to the sturdy beam overhead was lengthened, allowing him to move about a little, and sit down. But now prince Kasim was also shouting at the Mongol leader that he had been lied to, and was cursing the bandit leader Tiro in ways that I, a simple barbarian, had never heard before.
The bandit leader threw his head back and laughed, then said loudly, “Foolish prince, we have no man here as well hung as Konan the barbarian. He is a giant and his weapon’s size is legendary throughout the desert. And even if you could take him, he lies in the great Moghul’s cells, captured a month ago by your father.”
With that the Mongols moved away and took little notice of Kasim, except to laugh at his antics as he kicked about, and tugged, and tried to chew through his bonds.
To be continued. . .
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