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From: Jason <sterling.jason@gmail.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.gay.moderated
Subject: The Ottoman Turk Part 6/6 (M/M, M/F, M/t, Tort, Hist)
Date: Tue, 13 Nov 2007 20:20:26 -0600
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===================

The Ottoman Turk  Part 6


By Jason Sterling
sterling.jason (at) gmail (dot) com



The sun was lowering in the West and the archbishop
was still alive with the pole splitting his internal
organs as the last priest and monk was sent to the
pit called the ganching cradle.  This form of
execution was a favorite among the Turkish people.
It provided a means for disposing of a large number
of condemned people in an entertaining fashion.  The
fact that it allowed many who were not killed
outright by the fall, but lingered in agony for as
long as several days with all the moans and cries
echoing from the pit during this time, made it
popular wherever the Empire had influence.


The auburn haired consort of the head of the Sacred
Order of Jesuits looked down from her cross of
shame seeing her lover being slowly impaled in front
of her.  She tried to comfort the man who was
writhing in pain as the sharp point of the pole went
deeper into his inner body.  It was so far
implanted in him that the rope around his wrists
holding him up was no longer needed.  With his arms
at his side looking up at the voluptuous beauty that
he had spent so much time with in carnal bliss
watched as torch bearing guards lit the wood piled
around her.  Even before the feeling of the flames
reached her she screamed out in fear knowing what
unbelievable torments she was facing.


The smoke wafted up stinging her eyes and making it
difficult to breathe.  She could no longer see her
paramour on his perch trying to call out to her, but
limited by the fact that his lungs were so
compressed by his impalement, that all he could do
was mouth a final farewell to his beloved.  The
soles of her feet were the first part of her to
actually feel the lick of the flames.  She cried out
in pain but that only drew smoke into her lungs and
singed the inner lining causing her to cough and
gasp in fits of apoplexy.  As the heat lapped higher
the body hair burned except for the pubic tufts at
her crotch because that was sticky and bloody from
the rape she endured by that infernal, pronged
penis ring Omar wore during the violation.  Soon
large blisters formed on her legs and when they
burst due to the heat the fat contained in them just
added to the fuel below her.


Now the flames surrounded her bosoms which proturded
forward.  The nipples ached at their touch unlike
the gentle suckling that her paramour performed on
her.  A gust of wind caused the fire to flare up and
her crowning glory, the long reddish brown locks on
her head disappeared in the blaze.  A final death
rattle escaped her lips and her long agony was at an
end.  Omar had witnessed many burnings before.  He
specifically remembered one outside of the Sultan's
palace of a hearty, robust young man who had tried
to assassinate their emir.  To prolong this lad's
agony, wet straw was methodically heaped on the pyre
around the base of this scoundrel's place of
execution to keep him alive and conscious so that he
would not expire too quickly.  Omar had wanted to
try this tactic out with this show that was being
put on, but the Bey whom he had invited to attend to
see his methods hadn't arrived as yet.


Finally, as the long shadows of early evening drew
across the enclosure outside the fortress, the Bey
and his entourage walked through the gates of the
prison.  Omar, a devoted sycophant, greeted his
guests and escorted them to watch the flesh of the
fair Antonia sizzle and see her internal organs fall
into the fire as the skin that held them in place
turned to ash.  Next, their attention was directed
to the impalement stake and the still living priest
who adorned it.  Omar had two of his guards reach up
and pull down on the weights attached to the naked
man's ankles.  One final shriek of anguish echoed
off the walls around them and the pointed tip of the
pole exited the holy man's shoulder.  As a flourish
of entertainment for the group surrounding him, Omar
took out a knife and emasculated the dying man and
then stuffed the genitals into its gaping mouth.
"That should quiet this infidel's complaining." he
said as he wiped the blood off his dagger and slid
it back into its scabbard.


Groans and cries coming from the nearby pit drew the
attention of the group.  They all walked over to the
pit and looked down to see bodies hanging on hooks
protruding from the sides and twisted, mangled
men on stakes in the bottom of the hole, many of
them still alive and all bleeding profusely.  A few
of the more delicate members of the group vomited
when they saw the contents below them.


"This is what we call our ganching cradle.  It is
where we dispose of our enemies when we want to
extract the most amount of torment from them.  I had
this installed here to better serve the needs of
this provence that is so important to security in
the entire African area of the Empire."


The Bey seemed to react favorably to Omar's words
and thanked him for all the improvements he had seen
taking place since Omar was appointed to his post.
"I have one more demonstration for you kind sirs.
It is a method best performed in front of a group of
people that you want to impress with your
ruthlessness."  With that said, Omar motioned to one
of his minions and a bound, naked lad with red hair
was led out of the prison and attached, face down,
to a table near a charcoal brazier.  The monk who
had served the sexual needs of some of the older
priests while on their voyage was saved for the very
end.  It was not hard to see why this boy appealed
to some members of the clergy.  In his present,
prone position his ample muscles, the shapely ass he
displayed reminded one of some of the Greek statues
of athletes so much in vogue around the world.  Omar
patted the rump of his terrified victim as he walked
over to the heating appliance and pulled a metalic,
multi-tailed whip from its core.  It was much like a
cat-o-nine-tails scourge, but this one was made out
of metal that glowed red hot when heated.


Omar stepped back and with one powerful swing of the
whip applied it to the back of the Irish monk.  A
gasp of surprise came out of the youth but not one
that would be suspected, that of pain.  He only felt
shock as the wires burned their way deeply into his
temporarily numbed flesh.  The sound of sizzling
meat and the smell of burning flesh was there, but
the lad seemed to be taking this beating well.
While the tails cooled buried deep within him scabs
were forming over the welt marks.  When they had
solidified fully, Omar yanked the whip strands back
off the prisoner and shrieks of protest arose as
chunks of skin and flesh came with the retreating
lengths of solid wire.  Blood seeped from every
gash.  A sprinkling of rock salt not only stemmed
some of the bleeding, but it added more misery to
the fatal whipping that was in progress.  The whip
was put back into the coals to be reheated.


After only a few more lashes of the red hot flail on
the backside of the young Irish monk he fell into
unconsciousness.  No amount of stimulation could
bring him back to awareness.  Omar had the lad
unbound and turned over so that his unprotected
belly was exposed to the coup de grace that was
about to occur.  A quick slash of Omar's dagger on
the abdomen of the still living body beneath him
exposed all the vital organs to full view.  Without
any hesitation on Omar's part, he thrush his hand
up under the lad's rib cage and withdrew a still
beating heart.  A few rapid strokes of the dagger
and Omar held a quivering mass of muscle in his
hand which was then thrown into the coals of the
brazier. Proudly, Omar motioned to one of his guards
and a bowl of fresh water was brought to him and a
ritualistic washing of the blood from his hands and
forearms ended the display of this young Turk's
show of ruthlessness for the members of the Bey's
entourage.


Feeling arrogant and happy with his display before
the Bey, Omar left the fortress to go to his home.
The twin girls who posed as nuns that had serviced
the supposedly chaste Jesuits were too great a prize
to be wasted in a quick death.  Omar was obsessed
with the beauty and expertise of these two nymphs
and secretly had them saved from execution and
taken to his home.  Images of erotic bliss formed in
his mind as he was greeted at his entryway by a
deeply bowing eunuch servant.  Before Omar had a
chance to instruct this servant to prepare the girls
for his planned activities, the fearful slave said,
"Master, I am instructed to show you a slave sent
from the Bey's palace for you to do with what you
think is appropriate."


A bedraggled young boy that looked fairly familiar
to Omar was brought out of a nearby corner.  The lad
was missing both his ears, the eye sockets were
devoid of their normal fullness and the tongue had
obviously been cut out of his mouth.  A scroll of
parchment hung off a cord around his neck.  Then it
hit Omar.  The boy was given to the Bey as a present
by Omar some months ago.  Taking the scroll off his
neck, Omar read the Bey's message:  "This spy had
been apprehended within our court.  Find out who had
the audacity to inflict him upon our most guarded
communications.  Report back to me after you have
found the culprit."


Omar felt as if his whole world collapsed.  Did the
Bey really not know who was behind the spying or was
he just playing a game with Omar seeing what he
would do to try to save his own ass?  For the first
time in his life Omar realized that what he did had
political ramifications that could be extremely
deadly when playing in the world of astute and
practiced professionals like the Bey and his
cronies.  A sense of panic overwhelmed him as scores
of possible actions on his part were thought of and
evaluated as to what to do next.


Welcome to the world of power politics.  Omar had a
lot to learn.
20071113202026
