“Yes,” Duga said, cutting Shebi off. “More of everything. The matriarch has said that the harem revels after the banquet will be even more over the top than ever before. Lash, who outfits the harem, is bringing in more tailors and seamstresses to work on all the fine clothes the matriarch has ordered for the harem boys and girls.”
“And many of her people starve and freeze to death in winter and burn in summer. You remember what it was like for us and our kind, Duga,” Shebi said, his voice taking on a crisp edge.
Duga and Shebi had made it out of the Mudflats district by making it into the royal family’s harem about twenty years ago. Their parents and siblings hadn’t been so lucky. The money and gifts they had received for Duga and Shebi’s harem service only went so far. They didn’t last forever, and their families still toiled under rough conditions, albeit with a slightly higher status in the community.
“Since when have you cared, Shebi? That’s enough,” Duga said to Apamar. Duga smiled at Apamar, tipped him, and watched the young man’s retreating backside as he left the room.
“Krask! Thasali don’t know a good thing when they see it,” Shebi said. He started to unscrew the cap on the natash jar, then screwed it back on. “It’s criminal how the idiots in charge are running the harem. Apamar is no looker, I’ll grant you that, but the hands on him! He just hadn’t found his calling yet. They threw him out. They throw so many good boys away before giving them a chance. I can only take in so many at my brothel.”
Apamar didn’t have a tattoo on his wrist, like Duga and Shebi did, forever marking him as having been once a harem boy. The harem staff or a member of the Thasali royal family must have made Apamar leave the harem before his initiate period was finished. Duga had never forgotten the day his initiate wrist cuff was removed. A tattoo artist inked his wrist with a wide band of the royal family’s colors of cobalt blue, purple and yellow. The colors had faded only slightly over the past twenty years.
Duga wondered if Shebi was warming up to one of his favorite topics: how the Thasali kicked him out of the boys harem for refusing to fuck a visiting diplomat. Apparently, the diplomat played rough, and he stank. Shebi felt his dismissal was unfair, but he had done well for himself in the end. He owned this brothel, and business was good.
Duga stretched out his legs and sipped from a glass of water. “Thasali can afford to be choosy even now.” He hadn’t been a looker when he was Apamar’s age either, but the Thasali kept Duga in its boys harem because, even at age 18, he had a fantastic body. They also liked the dynamic and intimacy that he had with Shebi. He later learned that Prince Baboye had personally insisted that Duga be kept in the harem. The prince, who was next in line for the throne, later made Duga his consort and then his adviser. Duga was now 38 years of age and hadn’t been anywhere near either the boy or girl harems in years, and his body had matured, although his muscles were tight. He was still sexy.
“Besides, you seem to end up with the best of the Thasali leavings. More often than not they land with you or in your brothel if they’re good enough.” Duga stood and began to undress.
Shebi started to stroke the back of the young man’s head. “This one was considered too high spirited,” said Shebi. “The Thasali like their boys a bit more docile. But this one has been very well behaved since I acquired him, haven’t you?”
The young man smiled at Duga and nodded.
“You’ll have fun with him, Duga. He’s got a lovely mouth,” Shebi said.
Now naked, Duga stroked his cock.
“Show me how lovely it is,” Duga said to the young man. “What is his name again?” he asked Shebi as the young man took Duga’s cock into his mouth.
“Jamas. His name is Jamas,” Shebi stood up. “I’ll leave you to it. I bid you good fortune.”
As the door closed behind Shebi, Duga got a whiff of the noxious natash. Shebi had taken the cap off the jar as he exited and left it open either because of forgetfulness or as some kind of joke. Shebi knew Duga didn’t like it, but it was easy enough for Duga to ignore the stench. The boy, Jamas, did have a lovely mouth and a strong tongue. His blond hair flopped back and forth as he sucked Duga’s cock until it was firm, and Duga approached orgasm. The warmth of Jamas’ mouth soothed and excited Duga. When he came, he felt his whole body relax. He kept his hand on the back of Jamas’ head as he pulled his dick from his mouth and stroked his cock until the last bits of his cum dribbled onto Jamas’ cheek.
He sat down on the settee next to Jamas, his hand on the boy’s thigh. He would like to have stayed and fucked the boy, but he had to get back to the household to talk to Prince Baboye and the matriarch about the latest rumor. He got dressed, chatting amiably with Jamas who told him that he had run away from home a while ago and found himself in Resedna, the Thasali capital city. Duga asked him about his time in the Thasali harem, but Jamas seemed indifferent to the topic. Like Apamar, Jamas did not bear the harem mark on his wrist.
Before leaving, Duga tipped Jamas generously and gave him some words of advice.
“Don’t ever drink natash. Shebi loves it, but it’s horrible cachu.”
“Thank you. We don’t have it where I come from,” Jamas said as he stroked his cock lackadaisically. “Hey, Shebi says you’re an important man, but you used to be a harem boy.”
Duga put on a nondescript cloak over his colorful clothing, which indicated he was part of the royal household. “That is true. The harem can be a stepping stone to great success. I’ll tell you about it sometime. Maybe next time I see you.”
“I’d like that.”
“I bid you good fortune, Jamas.” And Duga left, heading towards the back. He stepped into the alley behind Shebi’s brothel, looking this way and that. He flicked the cloak’s hood over his head. His brothel visits were not a secret in the royal household, but it wouldn’t be good for the general populace to know that a royal household member was indulging in dalliances outside the palace walls. Also, this area of town was not always safe, especially for those with royal connections.
The little sun and big sun of the planet Oranto were giving way to the planet’s three moons when Duga emerged from the alley, but he could still see signs of the impending jubilee celebration, even here. Buntings and flags with the Thasali colors adorned even the shabbiest buildings in celebration of the matriarch’s 25th anniversary on the throne. He wondered if the matriarch’s revenuers would find a way to charge merchants and householders along these ramshackle streets for the privilege of displaying the royal colors. As he moved in and out of the shadows, he bit back the bitterness that had begun creeping into his thoughts recently.
As an adviser to the crown prince, he could have availed himself of the boys in the Thasali harem, but once Prince Baboye appointed him to his advisory council, he left the harem behind. He was no longer a harem boy, so why should he ever set foot in the harem compound again? Shebi had opened his first brothel by that time, so he started taking his pleasures with the young men in Shebi’s stable. He and Shebi had had sex quite a few times when they were harem boys. The last time was at the behest of the prince’s uncle, a man who simply liked to watch. Having known each other since they were children, Duga and Shebi had no problem cavorting for the amusement and titillation of others. The old man had especially enjoyed it when the two young men had wrestled oiled and naked. The grappling ended with Duga fucking Shebi. Shortly after that, Shebi was kicked out of the harem. Duga stayed for another year before the prince appointed him his adviser, and he left the harem behind.
Duga navigated the back streets of the city, easily shaking the tail the matriarch had no doubt put on him. She liked to keep tabs on everyone in the household. The young man had been skillfully made up to look like a much older man, but he hadn’t mastered the art of moving like someone older. He may be an ambitious harem boy trying to move up in the household hierarchy, Duga thought and smiled. He remembered what it was like to be an ambitious harem boy. Still, the boy had a lot to learn.
~~*
Duga lived in a house on the grounds of the Thasali royal compound. Prince Baboye had given it to him as a wedding gift. Many years ago the matriarch had arranged Duga’s marriage to a harem girl called Tertiana Alsadafti. The matriarch, Duga had learned, loved orchestrating the lives of others. Tertiana, like Duga, came from an impoverished provincial family, hoping to find a better life for herself as part of the harem. Duga had accepted marriage to her as part of being a Thasali household servant, which was what he really was despite being a member of the matriarch’s jundii. The jundii were an exalted group within a royal household’s coterie, a sort of inner circle within an inner circle. They were a royal household’s most trusted advisers. Most were minor members of the royal family themselves or descendants of other jundii. Duga had been the first, and still the only, former member of a harem to be made a jundum in any royal family on the planet Oranto. Being the crown prince’s consort had helped him move up fast. But he was still a servant even if he was highly ranked and even if he had servants of his own.
When Duga got home, he saw that Menefy, the servant who did everything for him, had left out a simple meal: bread, spiced beans and cheese. A carafe of Solon Valley wine stood just to the left of the plate with a mug at the ready. Duga poured himself a good measure of wine and knocked it back all at once.
“Good evening, sir,” said Menefy, coming into the kitchen from the pantry.
“Menefy. Any news?” Duga tore off a hunk of bread and used it to scoop up some of the beans. He shoved the whole thing into his mouth and chewed.
“It’s all about the jubilee this week. No one can think or talk of anything else, sir,” Menefy said, sounding exasperated.
“Well,” Duga said, pouring himself more wine, “the matriarch’s jubilee celebration takes precedence over everything else. Only an act of war could change that.” Or an assassination, he thought. A quiet rumor, barely a whisper, suggested an assassination plot was underway. He had to find out for sure.
Menefy was a good spy, but even he hadn’t found out that much over the past few days. Today he had found no information of value. Tertiana, Duga’s now former wife, had chosen Menefy to be Duga’s valet. They had had two other servants, but with Tertiana and the children gone, there had been no need for anyone other than Menefy. Duga found him amusing, with his liking for household gossip. It was because of Menefy that Duga knew much more than the prince or matriarch could hope to know about their own household even with their own cadre of spies.
“Once the visitors for the jubilee arrive, I’ll have more news for you, sir.”
“Thanks, Menefy.”
After quickly changing into something more suitable, Duga was on his way to the palace and the crown prince’s rooms. Though the hour was late, he had no trouble getting in to see the prince, who poured him a glass of sparkling water. The prince’s sitting room was sparsely furnished but tastefully decorated.
“You’ve got your serious look, which means you want to get straight to business,” Baboye said.
Although they hadn’t been lovers for several years now, Duga could still tell when Baboye was in heat. His dark gold eyes—a Thasali family trait— took on a glittering sheen and he grew impatient with anything or anyone who would delay his desire for sexual satisfaction. He was topless, revealing a firm, chiseled chest but wore loose-fitting pants and sat with his legs wide apart. Duga could still conjure up a vivid image of Baboye’s cock as if he had vision that could see through Baboye’s pants to the growing bulge he knew was there.
“It could be very serious, sir.”
Baboye sighed. “Please, Duga. No need to be so formal.”
Duga nodded and took a seat next to the prince. “I’m here about a rumor, a rumor of your assassination.”
“I’ve lost count of all the rumors of my imminent demise at the hand of a paid wraith or some such.” The prince shrugged. “Do you know, when I was but a babe in the cradle, one of my mother’s ministers conceived a convoluted plot to snuff me out? It involved snakes, I think.”
“Well, this rumored plot is more practical. The rumor is that the assassination will take place before the end of this week, and that the assassin is one of the harem boys.” Duga could see that that last bit got the prince’s attention. “No snakes were mentioned, in case you were wondering.”
Assassination plots against Baboye were common because he was the oldest of the matriarch’s children and next in line for the throne. Occasional rabble rousers plotted from faraway districts, hoping that Baboye’s death would give them control over a local, valuable resource like a crystal mine or a fish farm. It wouldn’t. The matriarch had other children who would step into the breach and maintain ironclad control of the family property.
There were also less powerful royal families elsewhere on Oranto who thought that murdering Baboye would send Thasali into chaos and allow other royals to grab a little more power, some land or other resource. There were Thasali cousins looking to move up the ranks, although the matriarch was pretty good at throwing them an occasional bone and keeping them in line. Some people just wanted revenge against Thasali for some long ago wrong and thought murdering Baboye would make everything right.
Fortunately, the prince’s four younger brothers weren’t interested in Baboye’s death. They had their own fiefdoms to take care of, and being second, third or fourth in line for the crown was less hassle than being next.
An assassination attempt from within a royal harem was unthinkable. The harems maintained and nurtured by each of Oranto’s royal families for years were sacrosanct and filled only with the most beautiful, trustworthy young men and women from each district. Also, once they entered the harem, they had very little contact with the outside world except when they entertained visitors to the royal family. Those visitors were rigorously screened.
Baboye finished his drink, got up and poured himself something a bit stronger. He sauntered around the room.
“A harem boy as the assassin? How would that work? How did they let an assassin in?” The prince sat down again.
“I don’t know. We have to find out,” Duga said. Although the prince kept his face a neutral mask, Duga could tell that the thought of the boys harem possibly being infiltrated distressed him greatly. He waited for the prince to respond.
“It just sounds so impossible, but I need you in the harem. You have to find out what’s going on. See if you can uncover the assassin and the plotters,” Baboye said.
“You need me in the harem? I haven’t set foot in the harem since—”
“Since I appointed you to the jundii. Yes. I know,” said Baboye.
The prince went quiet again.
“This is what you’ll do,” said Baboye. “You’ll be a teacher, the sex trainer. I’ll make the arrangements for you to be put in place. They won’t know you since you haven’t been to the harem in twenty years or so, although you’ll have to get rid of this.”
Baboye stroked the tattoo on Duga’s left wrist. Even after all these years, Duga treasured it. His first night as a full harem member, Baboye had called Duga to his chambers and touched his fresh tattoo. They spent that night together.
Duga let out a little sigh.
“I know,” said Baboye. “I’ll tell Mother about the plan today.”
Duga nodded. “You weren’t thinking of visiting the harem tonight, were you?”
“I think I can chance it just this once. How serious can this threat be?”
“Sir, I must advise you not to go. At least wait until I’m in place there. This threat is serious.”
The prince turned his dazzling smile on Duga. “All right. There’s a boy there whom I fancy. Maybe I can get them to send him here, just for an hour or so.”
Duga shook his head. Baboye really was in heat. “Again, sir, I’d advise you against having any contact with the harem, at least not until I’m in place.”
“This boy I told you about. I want to make him my consort. I wanted to do it during the jubilee.”
“Oh. I see.” Duga blinked. Elevating a harem boy to consort wasn’t something any of the royal families did lightly. A consort was still part of the harem but could no longer be requested by just anybody. The royal family member who had designated the harem boy a consort had priority, and each family had a special ceremony for just such an occasion. The royal families considered it particularly auspicious to elevate a harem member during a jubilee.
“That may not be possible, Baboye,” Duga said, gently. “The timing is—”
“Not good. Yes, I see that now. All the more reason for you to act as quickly as possible once you’re in place in the harem. That should be by tomorrow evening at the latest.” The prince looked slyly at Duga. “Why don’t you keep me company tonight? It’s been a long time since we’ve come together.”
Duga stood and shook his head. He wasn’t a harem boy anymore. Even as a harem boy, he always had the right to say “no,” but rarely did. He was focused on serving the royal family’s sexual needs. That was no longer the case. Now, he was focused on Baboye’s safety.
“I’m afraid, sir, that you must entertain yourself tonight…after you’ve reported all this to the matriarch, of course.” For a moment, Duga saw the petulant adolescent that Baboye once was.
Finally, the prince sighed. “All right, Duga. We will meet at first light tomorrow in my office. This boy I mentioned. I haven’t felt so much, so strongly about anyone in years. Not since you. Good night, old friend. I bid you good fortune.”
Duga gave him a slight bow and left. He couldn’t help smiling as he made his way back to his house. Even now it was good to hear that he once held a special place in the prince’s heart. This time, he didn’t even bother to try to shake the matriarch’s spy, who was still following him.
That glow turned to puzzlement upon his arrival back home. Someone had stuffed a note under the front door. It was unsealed, unsigned and on middling quality paper. He went to his office and examined it under the desk lantern. He could see no watermark or anything else that might indicate its origins. Finally, he sat down to read it.
Once Upon a Harem Boy Page 4
