Scheherazade and the King Ch. 02

The king knelt down as he pulled her dress apart, brushing his nose and lips against her body as it was revealed. He smiled as the dress fell apart and his face was before Scheherazade's sex. The girl tried to close her legs but Shariyar forced them apart and began to kiss the insides of her thighs.

Scheherazade closed her eyes and tried to keep her lips from trembling. She could feel Shariyar's breath on her sex, feel his lips brushing against her... Then his tongue was whispering against the folds of her skin.

"Please," she breathed. "Stop."

Shariyar looked up at her but he did not stop.

"Stop," she begged. "Please don't do this."

The king pulled away and stared up at her. He licked his lips mockingly: "But you're so wet, little gypsy, do you really want me to stop?"

Scheherazade glared down at Shariyar.

"Yes," she managed through gritted teeth.

"Because you want me to give you something else?" He asked. Shariyar toyed at the entrance to her sex with his fingers.

"No, please stop," she said.

Shariyar ignored her and began to push his finger inside her, marvelling once again at the tightness of her pussy. He groaned as he remembered how it felt to fuck her... His balls grew heavier at the thought and his hardness was almost painful.

The king withdrew his finger suddenly and stood up sharply. He licked and bit at Scheherazade's breasts as he fumbled with his pants.

When his cock was free, he raised his face to meet Scheherazade's and held her gaze. Her eyes widened as he slowly slid his cock inside her but she did not look away.

Shariyar moaned and closed his eyes as he drove deep inside the girl.

"Fuck you are tight," he growled. "You can feel every inch of me, can't you?"

The girl gritted her teeth and closed her eyes as he began to thrust in and out of her.

"You've never had a cock this big inside you, have you?" Shariyar murmured breathily, his fingernails digging sharply into her hips. "Have you? Huh? Have you, you fucking whore?"

"No," Scheherazade managed finally.

Shariyar laughed under his breath as he continued to fuck her, his strokes gaining speed as he came closer and closer to climax.

He stopped suddenly and grabbed her thighs, lifting her legs off the ground so that he could penetrate her even deeper. The girl cried out as he shoved the full length of his cock inside her.

"Oh fuck yes," he moaned, beginning to pump in and out of her again. "Tell me how it feels, gypsy. Tell me."

"So deep," she whimpered. "It hurts."

"You're going to be so sore, you won't be able to run away again," he groaned. "You'll be lucky if you can walk tomorrow."

Tears spilled from Scheherazade's eyes as her lashes fluttered open. She glanced down for a split second and saw Shariyar's cock sliding in and out of her. She choked back a sob and clamped her eyes shut again.

"You don't like seeing my cock going in and out of you?" Shariyar asked, fucking her harder.

"Please stop," she gasped. "You're hurting me."

"Don't worry," he sneered, "you'll be used to my size soon enough."

Shariyar chuckled to himself again and looked down, watching with satisfaction as the length of his dick disappeared inside the girl.

"I'm going to fill your tight little cunt with my cum," he murmured lustily. "Are you ready for it? You ready for my seed to fill you?"

"No, no, please," Scheherazade cried out, her voice breaking.

"Here it comes," Shariyar panted. "Oh, fuck, I'm cumming. Take it, take it all you fucking slut."

Shariyar shuddered as he emptied his cum inside the girl. He was breathing heavily as he pulled out and let go of Scheherazade's legs. The girl hung from her binds, tears trickling down her face, and cum leaking down her thighs.

The king cleared his throat and pulled his trousers back on.

"Are you going to be obedient if I bring you back to my chambers?" He asked, fastening his trousers.

The girl did not respond.

"I asked you a question," Shariyar said, lifting her chin.

Scheherazade's trembling lips curled into an angry snarl.

"I'll take that as a "no"," Shariyar snapped, letting her chin fall. "Fine, stay down here in the dark with the rats. It's where you belong anyway."

The king turned on his heel and walked back up the stairs, taking the only remaining torch with him and leaving the girl in darkness.

Scheherazade's tattoos burned her skin as she struggled to hold back her tears.

"Please, give me strength," she whispered into the darkness.

++++++

Jafar stole through the darkened hallways of the palace in silence. No matter how hard Shariyar tried to keep his movements secret, the servants always seemed to know where he was and what he had been doing. Jafar had only needed to spend ten minutes in the kitchens to find out that the king had disappeared into the dungeons with the girl again but that she had not come out.

He walked quietly down the hallway, scanning the shadows in case Shariyar had left any of his guards to watch the dungeon door. He had not.

The vizier picked the lock with ease - the childhood pranks he and Shariyar had pulled off had left him with some useful skills - and gently closed the door behind him.

The darkness was complete. Not a single ray of light penetrated into these dark recesses of the palace. Jafar repressed a shudder and rummaged in his bag for the flint he would need to light one of the torches. Within moments the oil-soaked cloth caught a spark, giving Jafar the light he needed to make his way safely down the narrow staircase.

"Scheherazade?" The vizier whispered as he finally reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Jafar?" The girl replied hopefully. She had been strung up just as before: Her wrists wrenched high above her head, her toes barely touching the floor. The ripped remains of her dress were strewn on the ground around her.

"Yes, it's me," he replied, placing the torch in one of the many metal holders that dotted the rough clay walls.

"You shouldn't be here," she whispered. "If Shariyar finds out..."

"He won't," Jafar said, placing his bag on the ground. He walked over to the girl and cradled her face gently, kissing her softly on her forehead before reaching up to untie her wrists.

The exhausted girl collapsed to the floor as soon as Jafar loosed her wrists.

"Scheherazade!" Jafar cried, sinking to his knees in front of her. "I'm sorry! Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," she said, her tone apologetic. "I'm just tired."

"Don't be sorry," he whispered, pulling off his coat and wrapping it around her shoulders. "I'm the one who should be sorry."

The girl clutched the coat around herself and shook her head: "I'm fine, I really am."

Jafar looked at the girl with heartbreak in his eyes. He was the one who had put her in this situation, but she was the one lying to protect him.

The pair knelt in silence for a moment.

"I brought you some food," Jafar said finally. "And water."

"Thank you," Scheherazade whispered.

Jafar rooted through his bag, pulling out a leather flask of water and some meat and bread wrapped in cloth.

He watched as the girl ate, guilt churning in his gut. The girl had no reason to be atoning for his sins and yet, here she was, naked in a dungeon, feeding off smuggled scraps.

"Scheherazade," he said suddenly, breaking the silence, "where are you from?"

"I don't know," she said between mouthfuls. "I can't remember anything before a few years ago."

"Do you know how old you are?"

The girl shook her head as she swallowed the last of the bread: "But I think I'm older than I look."

Jafar held out the flask to her. The girl gulped it down within a few moments.

"Why can't you remember?"

Scheherazade closed the flask and handed it back to Jafar before answering.

"I had an, um - " she paused for a moment, fidgeting restlessly with the cloth as she tried to find her words.

"Accident," she said finally. "When I came to, I couldn't remember anything and I couldn't speak. From things I heard my master say, I knew I had not always been a slave but all my memories start from when I was. He sold me, my new masters abandoned me in the desert and that's where a Daarkan lady found me. She took me in and brought me back to health but I never regained my memories."

"Where were you headed when your ship foundered?" Jafar asked.

"I had not yet decided," she admitted. "But the Daarkan lady was something of a mystic. She told me that I had to leave if I was to find out who I was. She said I needn't worry about planning where to go, that Fate would lead me. But she said I would endure more suffering before I found my way home."

"And you went anyway?" He asked incredulously.

"Wouldn't you?" She replied.

"Who was your master?" Jafar asked, ignoring her question.

"The only thing you need to know about him is that he's dead," she said icily. "I do not speak his name."

"But I might be able to help you find out where you're from," Jafar said. "Tell me his name."

"He took many slaves," she said. "You will not be able to figure out which one of his many conquests my captivity resulted from."

"But you speak our language," Jafar pressed, "surely that will narrow it down."

"I speak six languages," Scheherazade said wearily. "I do not know which one is my native tongue."

"Six?" Jafar repeated.

"At least," the girl shrugged. "There might be more. Just last year someone spoke Greek to me and, to both our surprise, I responded."

Jafar shook his head in wonder: "You are a mystery, Scheherazade."

The girl sighed and glanced sadly around the room: "You should tie me back up and leave."

"No," Jafar said. "At least get some sleep first."

Scheherazade nodded reluctantly and curled up against the wall beside Jafar. He pulled her into his chest and held her close, listening as her breathing slowed in sleep.

The vizier tried to keep his own eyes open but, after a while, he was deep in sleep as well.

++++++++

"Well, well, well, isn't this a surprise..."

Jafar's eyes shot open at the sound of Shariyar's dark voice. He moved slightly, causing Scheherazade to moan out loud in her sleep.

Shariyar's upper lip curled as Jafar glared up at him defiantly.

"What are you doing with my whore?" Shariyar asked.

Scheherazade's eyes fluttered open and she started in Jafar's arms when her eyes lit on Shariyar.

"Oh good, she knows her name," the king taunted.

Shariyar reached down and grabbed Scheherazade's upper arm, pulling her violently to her feet.

"Shariyar, this has gone too far," Jafar said, leaping to his feet.

"I told you that she was none of your concern," Shariyar snapped. "I fucking told you to stay away from her."

"You need help, Shariyar," Jafar seethed. "You are sick."

"Guards!" Shariyar roared.

Six armed men came running down the stairs, their weapons drawn.

"Arrest this man for treason," Shariyar ordered. "I will see him hanged before sunset."

"No!" Scheherazade cried, trying to pull away from the king and reach Jafar. "Please, Shariyar, don't!"

Suddenly there were two guards flanking Jafar. They gripped his arms roughly and refused to let him struggle away.

"No, please! Please!" The girl screamed. Her voice was thick with sadness and anger.

"Keep it up and I will make sure you are there to watch him die," Shariyar snarled, his fingers digging into Scheherazade's arm.

"He won't do it, Scheherazade," Jafar said, his glare fixed on Shariyar.

"Yes I will," Shariyar said simply. "She knows I will."

"Please, Shariyar, kill me instead," Scheherazade begged.

"No," the king snapped. "You have already saved his life once."

"But he's your friend, your advisor," she cried. "And you would value his life over that of a whore?"

Shariyar snatched a sword from one of the guard's fingers and held it against Scheherazade's throat.

"Say it again," he commanded breathlessly. "Tell me what you are."

"I'm a whore," she said measuredly. Her eyes held his, unflinching.

"What kind of whore?"

"A worthless whore."

"Whose worthless whore are you?"

"Yours," Scheherazade said through gritted teeth.

Shariyar lowered the sword and nodded at the guards flanking Jafar. They did not move from the vizier's sides but they let his arms go.

"Fine. Jafar will not die today," he said. "But you will be punished in his stead. And Jafar will choose what form that punishment will take."

Jafar's eyes flashed angrily as they lit upon the king.

"Either she will stand out in the stocks for a week, naked, for the entire kingdom to see, or she will service each and every one of my guards, or she will get fifty lashes," Shariyar said. "Your choice, Jafar."

"I will not choose," Jafar said. "She has done nothing wrong."

"Youwillchoose or she will endure all three!" Shariyar roared.

Jafar caught Scheherazade's azure eyes and she gazed at him with such understanding and heartfelt emotion that he could not bear to see her humiliated or degraded.

"The whip," he said, his proud shoulders slumping in defeat.

"I was hoping to see her covered in my soldiers' cum but I suppose she could use with a good lashing," Shariyar smiled darkly. "And you will get to strike the first blow, Jafar."

"No," Jafar said heatedly. "That I will not do."

"If you don't, she will get ten more lashes," Shariyar said, his eyes sparking.

Jafar cursed as the guards strung Scheherazade up by her wrists.

"Don't do this," the vizier begged. "Please don't do this."

"Shut up, Jafar," Shariyar growled. "If you had stayed away from the girl we wouldn't be here."

Jafar hung his head and walked slowly to stand in front of Scheherazade. He reached out to gently cradle her face in his hands.

"He's right," he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. "This is all my fault."

"No," Scheherazade murmured. "Don't say that."

"I can't do it," he said. "I can't hurt you."

"Yes you can, and you must," she breathed through quivering lips. "Please just do it."

Shariyar pulled Jafar away from the girl and handed him the barbed whip. Then Shariyar went to stand in front of Scheherazade, gripping her chin tightly between his fingers. Her eyes burned with fierce anger but he smirked at her trembling lips.

"Didn't I tell you you'd come to know fear?" He asked mockingly. "Now, Jafar."

The vizier pulled the whip back and let it fly against the girl's skin. She screamed and clamped her eyes shut.

Shariyar smiled ruefully at the girl's pained expression: "Again. Harder."

He made Jafar deliver the first ten lashes before taking over. Jafar was immediately before the girl, gently stroking her face and whispering apologies and sweet words of encouragement in her ear as Shariyar delivered blow after menacing blow. The barbs tore through her skin and blood dripped down her ass and thighs. By the time Shariyar delivered the last blow, Scheherazade was out of tears and out of screams. She hung in the restraints lifelessly, her eyes barely open and her lips bleeding from where she had bitten them raw.

Shariyar threw the whip down and pushed Jafar away. He slapped Scheherazade's cheek and her eyes fluttered open slowly.

"Can you hear me?"

The girl nodded slightly.

"You are no longer allowed to speak with Jafar, look at him, or touch him," he said. "Do you under-stand?"

The girl nodded and then let her head fall.

"And you," Shariyar said, turning on his heel to face Jafar, "you will not go near her again."

Jafar's eyes blazed: "She needs to be seen by a doctor."

"She is not your concern," Shariyar snapped, his chest inches from Jafar's. "How many times do I have to tell you?"

"She'll die if she doesn't," Jafar said staunchly.

"So she dies," Shariyar shrugged, turning away from the vizier. "She said she would for you."

"I am going to summon Hazim," Jafar said. "Allow him to treat her."

"Fine," Shariyar said, his upper lip curling. "Call him. But get out."

"Fine," Jafar snarled. He cast one last look at the girl and then stalked up the stairs.

A few minutes later, Hazim appeared, the old man's face was grim. Shariyar nodded towards the girl and then left. The guards would allow no one else into the dungeon.

Hazim gently undid the straps holding Scheherazade aloft. He gripped her tightly to keep her from falling and gently laid her on the ground.

"I'm sorry, my dear," Hazim said. "So sorry."

Scheherazade just moaned.

"Please, child, if you can, lie on your stomach."

The girl whimpered as she rolled onto her stomach. Dr. Hazim cleaned her wounds and bandaged them as best he could. He gently pulled Scheherazade into his arms so that he could wind the bandages around her torso. The girl's thin frame shook as he worked and even when he lay her back on the floor, her limbs still quivered.

"Scheherazade," he said, spreading his cloak on the ground for her to lie on, "roll onto my cloak. You shouldn't have to lie in the dirt."

"He'll just take it away," she said.

"I will tell him not to."

"If he listened to anyone but the voices in his head then we wouldn't be in this situation," she said, a hint of bitterness tainting her melodic voice.

The doctor sighed but picked his cloak back up off the floor. He rummaged around in his medicine chest for something to ease the girl's pain.

"Tell him it's not his fault," the girl whispered.

Hazim returned to her side, medicine in hand.

"Who, dear?" The doctor asked as he helped her sit up to take a pain killer.

"Jafar," she murmured hoarsely. "Remind him that I chose this path. I chose this."

"My child," Dr. Hazim said softly, "the only person who deserves this treatment is the one doling it out to you."

"Shariyar has suffered. Anger and sorrow can twist a man's soul."

"Do not pity him," the doctor said firmly. "He stopped being worthy of our pity a long time ago."

"Will you tell Jafar what I said?"

"I will," Hazim said, offering the girl a kind smile.

Scheherazade smiled weakly back and then closed her eyes. Hazim waited until she was asleep before draping his cloak over her body.

He collected his things as quietly as he could and ascended the stairs. When he knocked on the door, the guards pulled it open to reveal Shariyar pacing the hall restlessly.

He stopped when he heard the door shut and turned to the doctor.

"Well?" He snapped.

"Well what?" Hazim asked.

"Will she live?"

"No," the doctor said flatly.

The colour drained slightly from Shariyar's face but his expression remained neutral.

"Not if you continue to treat her like this," Hazim continued, pretending not to have noticed the fear that crept suddenly into his king's eyes or the way his skin had blanched at the thought of Scheherazade being gone.

"Then she is alive?"

"For now," Hazim said grimly. "But it is clear that you mean to kill her. And one day, perhaps very soon, you will get your wish at last."

Shariyar sneered at the doctor but did not dismiss him.

"You will treat her, Hazim," Shariyar ordered. "How long do you need?"

"You cannot be serious!" The doctor exclaimed incredulously. "You want me to heal her just so you can do it all over again, don't you?"

"How long do you need?" Shariyar repeated. "And remember, doctor, that you have a duty to her under your oaths and a duty to me as your king."

Hazim closed his eyes and shook his head. He had known Shariyar from when he was just a child. How he had become the creature that stood before him now, bloodlust flickering in his eyes, was hard to comprehend.

"I never thought I would see you like this, Shariyar," he murmured. "You were such a happy boy."

Shariyar's eyes flamed: "You have two days."

"Two days?" He cried. "She cannot be healed in two days!"

"How long do you need?" Shariyar asked for the third time, annunciating each word carefully, dangerously.