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: <robberbaron023@yahoo.com>
X-Original-Message-ID: <20040208001301.79979.qmail@web20724.mail.yahoo.com>
From: Robber Baron <robberbaron023@yahoo.com>
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: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2004/46537>
X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com>
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: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+