Tales of the Thasali Harem Box Set

by Danielle Summers

  “Yes. They taught me well and were kind enough in their own way. I suppose they expected me to join them when I came of age. There they were wrong, though. As soon as I heard about the city, I decided to go there. One day, a merchant wagon came through with supplies. I saw my chance and arranged my escape. The wagon took me here—to this very marketplace—and from there I made my way to the palace and begged to join the harem.”

  “Ah. I see.” Knowing he would regret his actions, but unable to resist, Chadan raised a hand to stroke Azno’s cheek. It was warm and feather-soft, just as he had expected. His voice rumbled out in a hoarse whisper. “Still, I doubt you had to beg too hard.”

  The pink splotches on Azno’s cheeks spread endearingly. “They were kind enough to hear my petition. But enough of all that. Please, Master Chadan, do not worry so on my behalf. Let me do this for you—for both of us.”

  His fingers moved to the front of Chadan’s tunic. A tingle moved through Chadan’s body, and he was glad he had not disrobed earlier. The thought of Azno slowly removing his clothes thrilled him to a degree he did not care to admit.

  “I have been paying very careful attention at my sex training lessons,” Azno assured him. “I promise you will enjoy this.”

  Chadan had no doubt of that. “I want you to enjoy it, too,” he reminded Azno.

  “I know I will,” Azno whispered.

  “All right,” he choked, knowing he was foolish to agree. Still, he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life wondering what it might have been like. It would only be once. Then Azno would be out of his mind and heart. Both of them would move forward with their lives. They would go on as before.

  Azno stretched out on the bed beside him as Chadan reached for the fastening to his hooded cloak. Azno gently pushed his hands away.

  “Please, Master Chadan. Let me. They taught us how to do this in sex training. I want to see if what they told us was true.”

  “What…what did they tell you?” Chadan asked as Azno peeled away his clothes, following the movements with his tongue. When he had licked his way to Chadan’s nipples, Azno paused and smiled up at him.

  “That it would be impossible for any man to resist us if we did the things the trainers showed us.” He winked. “It looks as though they were correct.”

  Chadan tried to offer some witty reply, something to show he was still in control of both his emotions and this absurd situation.

  All that came out was a moan.

  The next thing he knew, Azno was on the bed with him, shrugging out of his garments in another series of graceful moves he had probably learned from the tutors. But then, Chadan wondered, were formal lessons in such things really required? Was it not possible that emotion alone guided their actions? They fit together smoothly, perfectly, like partners in a slowly paced but intense dance.

  Azno met Chadan’s eyes with a nervous but hungry stare of his own as he straddled Chadan’s hips, clamping them between his lean thighs. Chadan marveled at the patch of wispy brown hair and brushed his hands over Azno’s stiffening cock and a pair of pink, low-hanging balls. Azno’s knees began to tremble, so Chadan raised his hand and massaged his shoulder blades instead.

  “I want to please you, Master Chadan,” he whispered.

  “You already do,” Chadan replied. He tipped his head up and captured Azno’s lips in his. They pressed together, drinking one another in, cocooned in a soft, lusty heat. Chadan stroked his way down Azno’s warm back while Azno prodded tentatively around Chadan’s straining member. The glide of Azno’s soft skin against his own almost had him gasping with release before anything else had happened. He had dreamed of such a moment for so long that even now, it hardly seemed real. And his dreams, it turned out, had been as close to the reality as a drop of water in a goblet was close to a surging, storm-whipped sea.

  Still, as much as he would have loved to lie still and simply float together on a haze of contentment, he knew their time was limited. All too soon, the innkeeper would want the room back and, across the city, the tutors and students would be getting ready for their next series of lessons.

  “It’s time,” Chadan said. He held out the bottle. “We must prepare ourselves. You remember this from your lessons?”

  “Yes.” Azno moaned as Chadan opened the bottle and poured scented oil on his hand. Next, he lifted his fingers to Azno’s tender hole and nudged them inside, massaging the rim as he probed deeper, spreading the oil. Its sweet scent, exotic and arousing, filled the room.

  Azno might have been innocent in the ways of advanced krasking, but he seemed to know instinctively what to do. He groaned, thrashing his rear end back and forth like he was trying to impale himself on Chadan’s hand. At the same time, Chadan noticed that his cock was getting harder and stiffer, and his balls were drawing up tight in their fresh pink sac. Eagerly Azno began licking his parted lips and tilting forward, apparently getting ready to lower himself if Chadan didn’t rise to the occasion first.

  He started to pour the oil onto his own crotch, but Azno, breathing hard, snatched the bottle away. “Let me do this,” he said. “I—I want to feel everything. Remember everything.” Then his warm fingers, slippery with a fresh dose of oil, slid down Chadan’s shaft.

  “I shall take you in one swift motion,” Chadan said, deciding that entering his untried virginity in a series of brief fits and starts would probably hurt him more. “Brace yourself.”

  “Yes,” Azno said. Then he said it again, this time in a drawn-out hiss as Chadan hoisted himself up off the bed and changed Azno’s world forever. “Yesssss.”

  Their joining was hard, hot, beastlike in some ways and yet exquisitely artful in others. Azno, unused to the intense sensations, found release first, clutching himself with his own fist and suddenly dampening Chadan’s bare chest. He was too caught up in what was happening to show the least bit of self-consciousness or regret. Chadan found that endearing, but also inspiring. Moments later he bucked and gasped and imagined the room melting around him.

  “I never…never thought….never knew,” Azno said, half weeping as he slid down into Chadan’s arms.

  “I know,” Chadan smiled into his hair. “Rest now. We don’t have long. You’ll need your strength back for the walk across the marketplace.”

  Murmuring his understanding, Azno closed his eyes and curved his lean body against Chadan’s. His hands were clasped together in front of his chest, which soon rose and fell in peaceful sleep.

  Though Chadan had enjoyed coupling with a few other men in his life, mostly in his younger years before his appointment at the palace, he realized he had never known such pleasure and fulfillment. This was deeper than the mere release of physical tension or the momentary seizing of the nerves as sexual climax took over. He knew now that the emotional aspect had always been missing for him.

  Just for a moment, Chadan allowed himself to imagine that he and Azno could always be together, in the way that mated couples were, sharing meals and laughter during the daylight hours and a soft, loving bed at night. Occasionally there might even be quarrels, he supposed—that was only natural, when two people tried to merge their lives and habits. He had never tried that and thus had never really argued with anyone outside of a few scholarly debates with the other tutors or the exchange of some bitter ripostes with Mekko. The prospect of a lovers’ quarrel seemed oddly intriguing. It would be a sign that he could live like others did, that he was close enough to another man to show his real personality and not simply the stern, serious mask of a tutor.

  In his dreams, at least, he could enjoy an ongoing affair. In this world, the world of market smells and dingy rented rooms and palace decorum, it could never happen.

  Azno fidgeted beside him.

  “What happened to Shebi? Why did he leave the harem?”

  The unexpected question startled Chadan into silence for a moment. “The prince cast him out,” he said at last. “Shebi did not care for their rules, and they did not care for his insolence.”

&n
bsp; “So, it is possible to leave.”

  “Of course, it is. But it would bring disgrace.”

  “Was Shebi disgraced? He did not die, obviously.”

  “That is true,” Chadan admitted. “But some would say disgrace is worse.”

  A bitter laugh. “Why? I have no one to disgrace but myself. And I don’t care.”

  “You don’t mean that. Please don’t talk about such things.” Chadan patted the curve of Azno’s perfect rear end. “You must rise now. We will leave separately. No one must see us together. And we must never speak of this day to anyone. Ever. Do not forget that.”

  “I won’t.”

  Somewhat petulantly, Azno rose and dressed. As he did, he spied the cloth-covered parcel Chadan had stashed in the corner. “May I?” he asked, picking it up. When Chadan shrugged, he peeled away the cloth to reveal the lyre. He ran his hands over its smooth surface in wonder, tracing the painted figures with his fingertips. “This is lovely.”

  “I thought so, too.”

  Azno’s fingers plucked at the strings and sang a few words from a poem they had studied in class. With just those few notes, he teased from the instrument a sad melody of indescribable beauty. Chadan felt tears well in his eyes. Truly this young man had the soul of a poet. Had people said that of Diviak?

  Perhaps. But the world had been so different then. At least, Chadan had thought so when he had first begun to study the old poems, so many years ago when he had been little older than Azno was now. Age had made him cynical. He had imagined that the great passions had died out with those who spoke the Old Tongue. But he had been wrong. Men’s hearts never changed. Neither did the truth behind the words they used to express their love.

  A truth that could never be uttered after today.

  A shuffling sound from the doorway interrupted the performance. Coarse voices rang in the hall. Another customer was heading upstairs at the tavern keeper’s invitation. Someone new would be wanting the use of the room soon. Two someones, most likely.

  “You need to go now,” he told Azno. This time, Azno didn’t argue. The sounds outside the door had apparently frightened him as well. Hastily he put down the lyre and crossed the room. After he had splashed himself with some water from the jug and basin in the corner, he pulled on his hood and slipped toward the door.

  “Remember my warning,” Chadan said.

  Azno didn’t say anything. He simply stood with his hand on the frame, one sandaled foot already outside the room, and held Chadan’s eyes for a moment. His sorrowful expression said more than words ever could.

  Chadan waited a while, until he judged it would be safe to go, and then pulled on his own clothes. The last thing he did was pick up the lyre and wrap it in the cloth again. Gingerly he carried it down the stairs, through the tavern, and back out into the street.

  There, a startling sight made him freeze in place. A man who looked remarkably like one of Garghas’s bodyguards leaned against the wall at the front of the tavern, counting some coins in a sack. He was in civilian clothes and did not look up at Chadan, who ducked out of sight behind a group of tumblers performing in the square. Had someone discovered their tryst and betrayed them? Mekko, perhaps? Had he suggested that Garghas send someone to follow him?

  If so, Azno had managed to sneak past him. Or had a second guard followed him back?

  Chadan’s pulse quickened as he headed back to the palace. Once inside, he tried to stroll casually toward his room. A few of the other masters passed him in the corridors and greeted him as though nothing were out of the ordinary. A few glanced at the wrapped lyre, but no one asked about it. No one mentioned Azno, either. He was sweating by the time he reached his classroom.

  When his afternoon pupils arrived, they too carried on with their translations as they would on any other day.

  Not until the last lessons of the afternoon had ended did Chadan allow himself to take a deep, calming breath. His hands began to shake as the enormity of his transgression dawned on him.

  They had escaped detection this time, but there could never be another such interlude. They might not be so fortunate then.

  Chapter Seven

  When Azno arrived for sex training later that afternoon, he was surprised to see Oraj, the Harem Master, standing beside Eru with his arms crossed and a grim expression on his chiseled face. A guilty shiver rippled up his spine as he took his place beside Toaz. Was he imagining the way Oraj’s steely eyes settled on him as Eru, their usual sex trainer, stepped forward and gestured for their attention?

  “Today we will learn the art of private dining,” Eru announced. “You will be instructed in the art of serving your master and, if necessary, his guests at a banquet or a more intimate meal. Please select a partner with whom you will practice.”

  Azno thought that Oraj looked annoyed when he and Toaz paired off again, but he said nothing. Eru led them through a curtain to another room that had been set up to resemble an aristocratic feast. A variety of succulent, colorful fruits and fragrant pastries lay spread out on tables, with pillow-covered banqueting couches set up in between. Azno struggled to pay attention as Eru and one of the assistant trainers demonstrated how to peel and feed fruits to one’s master, tilt a goblet to his lips, and recline across his lap while feeding him small sweetmeats. Twice he gave in to temptation and glanced over at Oraj, who stood motionless beside the curtain, taking in every moment of the lesson.

  “I know what you are thinking about,” Toaz whispered as he pretended to rub the tangy juice from a peeled pagvee berry over Azno’s lower lip, using the precise strokes Eru had just demonstrated.

  Despite his reclining position on the couch, Azno started. “Indeed, you do not,” he whispered back.

  Toaz winked. “Well, then, at least I know what I’m thinking. How much I would like to do this for Lord Garghas, unlike a certain person who will probably have the chance long before I will. You are lucky.”

  “I don’t feel that way,” Azno admitted miserably. He closed his eyes and felt Toaz go still beside him. Next, Master Eru’s voice intruded on his thoughts.

  “Toaz, here, seems to have grasped this technique with breathtaking speed,” he said, gesturing toward Toaz’s fingers, which still held the berry over Azno’s half-open mouth. “Perhaps you would be good enough to demonstrate for the sake of your less-adept peers.”

  After a few startled blinks, Toaz beamed. “But of course, Master. I would be only too delighted. Nothing to it, really. It’s all in the wrist, you know.”

  The other students crowded around to watch as Toaz went through his routine with the berry once again, adding a little flourish and some dramatic narrative here and there. Azno did his best to play along, though by then his stomach felt tight and he could scarcely taste the sweet juice. More than once, he allowed himself to imagine what it might be like to serve Master Chadan in the manner Toaz was now serving him—and in the manner he would soon be serving Lord Garghas. Would he actually be able to go through with it? The slight nausea he felt suggested that he wouldn’t get very far when Lord Garghas actually lay stretched out in front of him, his clothes loosened and his body ready to be stroked and admired. Yet, at the same time, Azno knew that obeying royal orders was the only reason Master Chadan had gone along with his mad seduction scheme that morning in the marketplace. Refusing to follow through would bring not only shame, as Chadan had suggested, but also punishment—perhaps to both of them.

  The thought of that was more than he could bear.

  Eru’s voice broke in again. “Very well, Toaz. That will do. And now I expect the rest of you to go back to your stations and do likewise. Remember, you are not simply trying to feed your lord. He will be able to dine just as well, or perhaps even better, on his own. Your task is to offer him not a meal, but an experience he will never forget. And, most of all, remember that after the meal, your lord will expect other, even more satisfying treats.”

  As the others drifted off, Eru held out a hand to stop Toaz and Azno from contin
uing. “The two of you may stop for a moment. Azno, Master Oraj wishes to speak to you. Toaz, you may wander through the room and see that your friends have taken your demonstration to heart. Feel free to offer them further instruction as needed.”

  “Master Oraj wants to…?” Fear boiled up in Azno’s throat, choking back the words before he could fully form them.

  “Yes. Now rise and follow me.”

  Azno could see that Toaz was about to protest, but thankfully he closed his half-open mouth and wandered away to do Eru’s bidding. Meanwhile, the prospect of facing Oraj made Azno’s knees so weak he could hardly get up from the couch and follow Eru across the room. Somehow, though, he managed. As he crossed the room, he heard Ithu cracking a joke about needing an extra hand to remove his master’s clothes while feeding him the berries and holding his wine goblet. An entirely new and horrifying realization struck Azno then. When the time came, someone with as much worldly experience as Lord Garghas would be able to tell that his supposedly virginal new concubine had already had experience. What would happen then? How far would Garghas go to uncover the identity of his previous partner? Azno had no doubt who would be identified as the primary suspect.

  At last, he found himself standing before the imposingly tall and broad figure of Master Oraj. To his relief, Eru remained beside him, perhaps sensing his fear. Neither of them looked angry, which left Azno both puzzled and grateful.

  “Originally, we had planned a lesson in courtly dancing for today,” Oraj said without bothering to greet them. “However, given the circumstances, Master Eru and I agreed that a change was in order.”

  “Oh?” Azno was so startled that he momentarily forgot to affect the proper attitude of respect. “I mean, is that so, Master Oraj?”

  “Yes. And the reason has to do with you, Azno, so it is only right that we explain to you what is expected.”

  “It has to do with me?”

  At last Oraj’s temper flared. “Are you a trained dallybird, repeating everything that is said in front of you?”