Chapter #4The Sultan and Ameera by: Carl   The Sultan of An’Anbar was a great man. He ruled over a great desert empire. Gold, grain, ivory, silks, spice, and women flowed into his court. He had conquered all that had opposed him; his vassals sent tribute to avoid further conquests. All feared him. His elite guard was feared throughout the land and he himself was a giant in battle. He was in his prime. Fit hearty and just over 30 he had everything he ever desired. Gold, luxurious, reputation, dozens of wives and hundreds of concubines were his.
He was the prince of the sands, the Sultan of An’Anbar. And right now he prostrated himself naked like a slave before his 23rd wife. He knelt with his arms outstretched palms to the floor. His forehead touched the ground, the pose of the slave, the pose of the humble paying homage to their master. And despite the fact that he ruled the empire, she ruled him. She expected him to be at that pose waiting for her in his bed chambers when the sun set. Sometime she made him wait hours, today only minutes.
Ameera entered into the room. She walked confidently up to his prostrate form. Her bare feet only inches from his hands. The Sultan knew what was expected of him. He raised his forehead briefly from the floor careful to keep it low to the ground. He kissed the tops of her elegant brown feet twice and then once again moved back and placed his forehead to the ground. She told him, “What occurred in court today cur?” That was her newest nickname for him, a long string of shameful terms she had used to describe him echoed in his mind.
“Sultana Ameera court today had little of interest. A few criminals were beheaded; the city of Tibah presented its offerings to An’Anbar.” She was not truly a Sultana, the law was clear that no woman would be allowed to rule. But she did rule him and through him the empire, he did as she ordered always. Ameera asked, “What did they bring?” He replied, “They brought spices from the south, measures of grain, and twin Nubians for my harem.” He heard Ameera laugh, “Twins, that could be amusing.”
Ameera spoke, “All right cur, you may bathe my feet.” The Sultan enjoyed this part of his day. The feet of Ameera were exquisite and when she said bathe my feet that meant use his tongue. She sat on one of the plush cushions in the room and took the cup of wine that had been left for the Sultan by his manservant. The man who enemies and allies alike called the “terror of the sands” crawled on hands and knees to Ameera. As he did so he stole a glance at his wife.
She was beautiful. Words to him could not describe her loveliness. She was lithe but had curves where a man wished a woman to have. She wore expansive silks that did little to hide her form. They caused a gentle swell at her bosom; her nipples were just barely hidden by the thin fabric. A ruby pendant nestled itself between those elegant breasts. Her legs were barely covered by a netted veil. On her arm she wore (arm jewelry?) and also wore gold rings on her delicate but strong hands. He knew just how strong and merciless those hands could be. Her dark long hair cascaded over her bare shoulders and down her back.
He reverently took her foot in his hand and began kissing them softly. He took her toes into his mouth one at a time and gently nuzzled them. He then moved to the soles of her feet, kissing them and running his tongue slowly across the arches with long broad licks. He could feel his arousal grow. He switched feet continuing his oral ministrations. As he did so she spoke to him again.
“I spoke with your cousin again today.” Anger and jealousy surged in his heart. His cousin coveted his throne and his wife! She laughed as she saw the anger in his face. “I saw his eyes drink me in, he desires me.” The Sultan remained quiet. Looking down at him with those bewitching eyes she asked mockingly, “What? No jealous rages, no demanding that I cannot see him? No threats? I see you have learned cur.” The last time she had talked about his cousin he had threatened to kill him, he had told her to stay in the harem. One did not make commands to Ameera. He shivered. Once he had calmed down she made him suffer. With pins and needles in his manhood he had screamed for mercy.
“Maybe I shall lay with him, and then I will have you drink his seed from my body.” The Sultan shook. Outrageous! That would be an abomination in the sight of the heavens. To allow another man to lay with his wife… and then to have to clean his seed from his adulterous wife’s body. No such a humiliation was too far. Ameera could not make him allow this to pass. Raising his face from her feet he said, “Ameera….” He was interrupted as her pretty foot slammed into his face. “That is Sultana Ameera to you cur.” His cheek throbbed from the harsh kick as he fell back.
“And if you were going to object keep your thoughts to yourself you do not have permission to share your opinion.” And that ended the discussion. The Sultan knew better then to disobey Ameera. “Come dog finish bathing my feet.” The Sultan chastened and humiliated once more only replied, “Yes Sultana.” Taking another sip of wine she said, “I think I will do it.” He worshiped her feet as she told him how he would disgrace him. “Yes I will let a real man have me and you will consume his seed from the shrine of my womanhood.” Tears of shame leaked from the Sultan’s eyes and he wondered… how did it come to this? His thoughts traced back to how this all started, two years ago.
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