Date: Tue, 23 Jun 2020 03:21:51 +0200 (CEST)
From: jalaqi@tutanota.com
Subject: Jalaqistan

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Jalaqistan by John Mathews

jalaqi@tutanota.com



The note was very courteous, as all embassy notes are.  I had been invited
to dinner at the Jalaqistan embassy on the 14th, two days hence.  I was
respectfully requested to stay overnight, or longer, if I wished.  Should I
accept, I would be picked up by an embassy car, and driven to London.  I
would be returned at my convenience.

I had written a report for HM government on the state of Jalaqistan about 4
months previously.  My contract with a grateful government was promptly
terminated after delivery of the report.  I told my boss thanks for nothing
and proceeded sporadically to look for other work. I was quite well off, so
this didn't bother me much.

Shortly after this a Jalaqistani legation was established in London.  HM's
Indian Ambassador became the Honorary Delegate to Jalaqistan.  He of
course, lived in New Delhi, and would only be able to visit Jalaqistan once
a year.  I had written a very positive report about this tiny and very
fiercely independent state.  It was nestled in the mountains around the
north of India, Pakistan, and Afghanistan.  It was closed to tourists.  An
occasional visa was issued to a foreigner to visit on some sort of official
business.  It was oil rich, did not have opium and was essentially
agriculturally self-sufficient. It was little wonder the neighbouring
countries were jostling to take over this country and make it one of their
possessions.

 I had received one such visa.  I was given a week's stay.  It had been a
wonderful week.  The Nizam, whom I didn't meet, had supplied me with very
modern accommodation.  The capital was clean; the people seemed happy, well
fed, and comfortable.  The Nizam had ploughed a lot of the oil revenue back
into his country and his people's welfare.  I loved the place, the people
were all very friendly, and the food, the like of which I had never tasted
anywhere else, was exquisite. I was given carte blanche to go wherever I
wanted and had an interpreter who did not try to direct me in any way or
interfere with what I wanted to see.

Of course, I accepted the invitation.  It was arranged that the embassy car
would collect me and drive me south to London.  The car duly arrived, and I
was driven in luxury to the embassy.

On arrival, I was greeted by an official in Jalaqi dress.  My overnight kit
was taken care of by a rather lovely looking young lad.  The official took
me directly to the ambassador's office and made me comfortable.  A scotch
and soda materialised next to me. It was delicious. Moments later, the
ambassador arrived, planted himself on the edge of the corner of the desk
and started to speak.

"Welcome, Dr Fillan, to our little bit of home away from home."

The ambassador was stunning.  He was about 30 something and had the
beautiful fine features of the Jalaqi people.  He was obviously in relaxed
mode and not too official at all.  He was dressed in his national clothing.
His shirt was of the very thin muslin variety and I could just see his
brown nipples underneath.  I was dressed far more formally in a suit and
tie.

"I hope the journey wasn't too arduous for you.  Please relax and be
comfortable.  Oh... where are my manners."

He held out his hand and introduced himself as Ramez.

"Your Excellency," I replied.  I shook his hand, which was soft and firm,
nodded my head in respect.  I then put my hands together and raised them to
my forehead in the traditional Jalaqi manner.

"Please call me Ramez.  And I appreciate your understanding of our ways."

He saluted me in the same manner as I had greeted him.

"You must call me Drake," I replied.

"Fine," he grinned at me.  His teeth were dazzling. "I suppose you are
wondering why we invited you here. But before we get talking, can I invite
you to perhaps change into something more comfortable.  We'll then have a
chat in a less formal setting."

The embassy was very warm, and I was getting quite uncomfortable in my
woollen suit.

"I would like that very much.  Thank you."

I imagined he would call a servant to take me to my room and I would then
meet him after changing.  However, this was not the case.  He grabbed me by
the hand, as is a Jalaqi custom, and took me himself to my room.  My bag
had been unpacked and some less formal clothes had been laid out for me.
Also, on the bed was a set of Jalaqi clothes, the baggy light cotton
trousers and Jalaqi shirt.  This style of clothing is very comfortable.

"Please, your own clothes or Jalaqi... whichever you prefer."  Ramez smiled
at me and made no move to leave.  I had noticed this aspect of Jalaqi
culture on my visit.  There was little to no modesty.  I hesitated a moment
and started to undress.  Ramez looked at me frankly.  I was down to my
bikini underwear which actually hid very little.  Ramez eyed my bulge and
nodded.

I was about to slip into the Jalaqi trousers when Ramez interjected.

"Wait, Drake.  You don't wear underpants with our trousers. You go... what
is the slang... you go commando."

We laughed together.  I slipped off my bikini and Ramez frankly checked me
out.  I could feel a bit of a chub under his gaze, but I pulled up the
baggy trousers and tied the cord.  I slipped on the shirt and was ready. I
remained bare footed as was my host.

"Ahh," Ramez smiled and put his arm around my waist.  "You look like a true
Jalaqi."

I grinned back at him.  I was beginning to like this guy very much.

We proceeded back to his office and went through yet another set of doors.
We arrived in what I knew in the Jalaqi language was a divan.  The room was
spacious, but not huge.  It had very lush carpets on the floor and the
walls. Large, fat cushions were scattered all over the place and
intricately carved tables were positioned at strategic intervals for drinks
or food.  These were the most comfortable sitting rooms in the world.

"I suppose you are wondering why we asked you to visit us?" Ramez enquired.

We had nestled into some cushions.  He had settled me first and then placed
himself next to me.  He was close enough to touch my leg and did so
frequently.  I knew this too was customary.

He reached under a cushion and pulled out a dossier.  It was thick and
marked with my name.  I started to feel a spot of concern.  I had had one
"indiscretion" in Jalaqistan and was hoping that wasn't in what looked like
the dossier from hell.

"Let me start," said Ramez squeezing my leg lightly, "By telling you the
Nizam is truly overjoyed at the report you gave to the government.  I have
a copy here.  This has had very important political and economic
ramifications for HM government and our government.  As you can see, we
have an embassy here now."

He smiled, and I nodded.  I wondered where this was leading. I was
surprised, but not perturbed by what was meant to be a `secret' report for
HM Government.

He continued.  "However, unlike HM government, we do not sack people who
have done good work.  Further, we are not thieves."

I looked at him quizzically.

"Your boss took credit for the work."

I was truly shocked.  "But that report was 100% my initiative and work."

"Oh yes, it was," Ramez replied. "We know.  Your ex-boss now has been
sacked from his position and is probably working as a waiter in Bognor
somewhere.  The Nizam made sure the minister knew who wrote the report."

Now, as for yourself, the Nizam knows you are looking for some work.  His
Exaltedness wishes you to consider a position in Jalaqistan."

I took a slug of my whiskey which had been brought to me by a very cute boy
in national dress.  I glanced at him and had a momentary lustful thought.
This quickly left as I thought of the implications of what Ramez had told
me.

It was a lot all at once.  My boss had stolen my work.  He had been found
out and lost his very senior position.  I had come to the attention of the
minister.  I was being offered some sort of job in paradise.  It was all
too much.  I took another slug.  I felt the soothing glow of very good
single malt warm my body and regear my mind.  Ramez was very still as I
took this in.

Finally, I could speak.  "What kind of job?"

"The Nizam wishes to speak to you about this himself.  I can tell you,
however, that you will receive Jalaqi nationality.  You will be accredited
as a diplomat.  You will be paid well, and you will live in Jalaqistan and
here.  You will be given a house, and servants.  Your pay will be tax free.
You will need to spend nothing and in two years you will be a millionaire.
All your wants and needs will be supplied."

I was a bit stunned about this offer.  It was the stuff of fairy tales.

"Are you interested?"

I nodded a very definite yes.

"Good.  The Nizam will leave Jalaqistan tonight, he looked at his watch and
corrected himself, has left, and be here tomorrow. You and he will talk in
the morning.  There will be a formal government reception tomorrow evening
and if you accept the position, you will be introduced as our Diplomatic
Liaison Officer, and our official liaison person in Jalaqistan."

Again, I nodded.

"I might add," said Ramez, "You were very kind about our country.  You were
also very discreet about what you put in your report.  This has totally
pleased the Nizam, and I might add me.  By the way, I'm the Nizam's nephew.
He has also indicated to me that you are his most honoured guest here, and
whatever we have is yours.  No place is forbidden to you.  You can wander
around and sample any delights you may find.  Incidentally, in our dossier
we have all sorts of information... From your favourite movies to your
favourite whatevers..."  He grinned wickedly.

I shuffled a bit uncomfortably.

"I want to read something from an interview we conducted..."

"Yeah?" I replied quizzically.

"It was after we received a copy of your report and found out what had
happened to you."

"OK."

Ramez read: "He was the kindest person I've ever been with.  I massaged his
back and his skin was soft and beautiful.  His behind was hard but soft.
His legs were quite smooth.  I poured oil on his behind and ran my finger
down the crack, like I've been taught.  I touched his secret place and he
moaned.  I asked him to turn over and he did.  He had a very stiff member.
I massaged him on the chest and then on the legs up to his thighs.  I
stopped, and he told me to continue.  I kissed the top of his member and
applied oil.  He moaned some more and opened his eyes.  I could see he
wanted to touch me intimately, but he didn't.  He lifted his hand and just
lightly touched my face and I took his finger in my mouth and gently bit
it.  He took his hand away but did not grope me.  I took off my shirt and
then undid my trousers.  He didn't interfere with me.  The men nearly
always pull me to them before this and stick their members in me.  It
sometimes hurts.  He didn't do that.  I indicated that he could take me,
but he shook his head.  He got off the massage table and took my hand and
he asked me to get into the hot pool with him.  I did, of course, and then
he gave me a very light kiss."

Ramez added: "Do you want me to go on?"

I shook my head.  My dalliance had been discovered.  My face was red.

Ramez continued, "I'll just give you the last bit... `He is the kindest man
I have ever known, and I really want to be with him again'."

"Now that is from one of our citizens.  The Nizam loved that bit.  The
Nizam listens to our citizens and takes what they say seriously. Let's
eat."

He gave my thigh a friendly squeeze and he shouted out for food.  The food
was delicious.  The wine imported from Jalaqistan was fine and the perfect
complement to our meal.  At the end I was really satisfied.  We had talked
about the country and the people.  I remarked that everyone was handsome.
Even the older folk were still good looking.  He smiled at that.

The time had sped with this urbane and simply gorgeous man.  I liked his
touches on my leg.  I had boned and gone down a couple of times.

"Now for dessert."  He called out.

"This dessert is especially for you." Ramez clapped his hands.

My little Jalaqi indiscretion walked in smiling.  I gasped.  He was in silk
national dress.

"Do you like our little surprise dessert?"

I didn't know what to say.  I nodded.

"Remember you are on Jalaqi territory here and the UK rules don't apply.  I
personally enjoy the English boys a lot.  I guess it's a touch of the
exotic for both of us."  He laughed uproariously at his own good humour.

"Where's my dessert?" he shouted.

An English lad of about 10 or 11 walked in.

"I have an old friend from my Oxford days who keeps me supplied.  But this
boy is my current favourite, aren't you Tim?"

The little fellow nodded and ran to Ramez who had opened his arms.  I took
the hint and opened my arms to my little chap.  He ran to me and kissed me.
His velocity had pushed me onto the cushions and he was lying on top of me.
Ramez had had more balance and was still sitting. He reached under my lad
and felt my crotch through my baggy trousers.  I was hard, and he grinned
at me.

"Let's do it here."  I felt a bit reticent, but after all he was the host.
He reached for a control panel and the lights dimmed.

"Stand up and undress, Tim," he ordered.

Tim got up and took off his clothes.  He was a cutie all right.  His little
uncut dick was flaccid but was beginning to chub.

My boy made to get up and do the same.

I whispered to him, "I don't even know your name... what is it?"

I think he picked up on the word `name'.

"Shiva."

I pointed to myself and whispered "Drake".

He repeated "Drek."

Shiva had indicated he was 11 when I was in his country.  He was training
in massage and enjoyed the work.  He was uncut.  His cute cock was about
three inches long flaccid.  His foreskin overhung his little helmet but
retracted without difficulty.  His boner was not much longer but was very
firm.  I discovered the skin would stay behind his helmet or cover it.  I
had nibbled quite a bit on that skin.  His little sack was tight against
him and he and I both enjoyed the light tickles I gave when I played with
it.  His arse was rounded and firm.

"God Drake, feel this."  Ramez grabbed my hand and he put it on Tim's
boner.  It was small, but as hard as a boner could get.  I tried to feel
his little balls and as I did so, my hand met Ramez' stiff cock through his
trousers.  I squeezed it a little and enjoyed the moan that escaped from
Ramez.  I chuckled and went back to Shiva.

I had not touched his flesh yet, so I slipped my hand up his shirt.  I
caressed his back and let my hand wander down his arse.  I felt his crack
where my dick had been so wonderfully pleasured four months previously.  He
wriggled a bit and suddenly he was naked in my arms. His hands were on my
shoulders and he started kneading me.  It was superb.  Somehow, we removed
my shirt and his naked body was lying on my chest.  I could feel his
boyhood hard on me.  I lifted my hips and my pants were either off or
around my ankles.  We were naked together.

We kissed and cuddled and kissed some more.  I felt his stiffness and his
boy balls.  I love the wrinkled feeling.  He produced some scented oil from
nowhere (I suspect under a cushion) and lubed my dick.  He lifted and
lowered himself on my prick.  I was in heaven.  We shagged for about 10
minutes.  My upward thrusts were met by his downward ones.  We kissed while
he was still impaled.  I just loved the way his arse was able to massage my
cock. This was heaven on a stick, my stick.

I kissed him and let him cuddle in my arms for a little.  I kept kissing
him. I wasn't paying attention to what was going on beside me.  I came in
his arse as his cock likewise spurted on my face as he arched backwards in
ecstasy.  The orgasm was excellent, but the clean-up was better.  Tim
crawled to my face while Ramez was still up his arse.  He started to lick
my face clean while being fucked by Ramez.  Ramez kissed my little Shiva
and I just felt fantastic and relaxed.

I played a little with Shiva's prick and felt around Tim's arse for Ramez'
balls.  Ramez shot up the kid's arse and Tim was having a dry orgasm.  This
all happened very quickly, and we basically fell into a heap.

Ramez let out whoosh of air.

"Whoa, that was great... I needed it too.  I haven't had a fuck in –
god, let me see – nearly 12 hours. Let's have another drink and see what
the evening brings.  Did you like our little surprise?"

"Yes, very much," I replied.  "I only had the one such Jalaqi dessert when
I was there.  I should like to have had many, many more."

By this time, Shiva had nestled into my arms and was snoozing.  I felt an
incredible amount of affection for the little chap.  My feelings suddenly
overwhelmed me, and I cuddled him to me.  He rolled into me comfortably and
continued sleeping.

"He's probably exhausted," said Ramez, "As he only arrived here three hours
ago. You can wake him up if you want a bit more, or you can try out Tim or
me."

"You tempt me greatly, kind sir."  I leaned over and felt Ramez nice uncut
cock and fiddled with Tim's a little – he giggled – and I politely
declined.  "However, I wouldn't mind all of you in my bed this evening."

Ramez laughed, called loudly for more whiskey, and indicated he thought I
would be a fine Jalaqi citizen.

I was awoken the following morning by a gentle shaking of my shoulder.  I
was surprised to see an older man of about 50 waking me.  He put his finger
to my lips for me to be silent and I slithered, ever so carefully, out of
bed.

I was naked.  I had shagged Shiva, Tim and Ramez, and Ramez had shagged me.

The gentleman looked appraisingly at my semi-hard equipment and smiled.  He
indicated I should follow him, which I did.  I had slipped on my Jalaqi
pants and shirt.  I did need to piss.

As we trotted along the hallway to god knows where, the gent (as I began to
think of him) indicated a lavatory where I unleashed my stream.  I felt
better.

We finally arrived at a divan where I was invited to sit.  The older guy
had not said a word to me at this time, and I thought his English probably
wasn't there.  I was a little bemused at the happenings, but then I had had
the most amazing evening of sex and food and drink and more sex that I
didn't care.  This guy made sure I was comfortable, clapped his hands and
coffee, aromatic Jalaqi coffee appeared, along with fruits and pulse paste
and flat Jalaqi bread.

The older guy pantomimed eating.  The meaning was clear.  However, ever
mindful of Jalaqi custom, I insisted he eat with me.  I pulled him down to
the cushions.  He gave token resistance and sat beside me.  It was my turn
to pantomime he should eat with me.  Just to prove the point, I ripped off
some bread, saturated it with chick pea paste and fed it to him.  I also
poured him a cup of coffee which I gave to him with two hands, Jalaqi
style.

I presumed I was awaiting the Nizam. However, I thought that I should enjoy
the life and the customs of my new country.

The older guy spoke.  His English was BBC, with the slightest trace of
accent.

"May you be blessed."

I was somewhat shocked at this display of perfect English.

I raised my hands in politeness, Jalaqi style, to this handsome older man.

"You make a fine Jalaqi," the old guy said.  His English was flawless.  He
smiled a huge toothy and very attractive smile.  "I am Raji, your elder
brother, and Nizam of Jalaqistan."

I gasped and immediately my forehead was on the floor in deep obeisance.

"Your Highness..." I muttered from my bread-filled mouth into the carpet.

He laughed.  "You have just shagged my nephew and one of my subjects, and I
presume an English boy..."  (His Highness must have had an exaggerated if
realistic view, considering the evening just passed, of my sexual prowess,)
"and I am not disappointed in you.  You gave my country a good report –
which I might add, my neighbouring countries have not done, and you have
cemented an alliance between Great Britain and us. We are safe from our
neighbours who want to take us over, and it is you who has done this.
Thank you.  I can give you whatever you want as a reward, but this is my
suggestion...  I think my nephew has intimated a little...  Firstly, you
become Jalaqi, but you can remain British as well if you wish; secondly,
you become an accredited Jalaqi diplomat with all diplomatic privileges,
including immunity; thirdly, you are a member of my personal staff –
this can be rough because you are on call 30 hours out of 24 and then some,
every day of the week, however, this is not as tough as it seems, except in
times of crisis; fourthly, you will be paid 850 thousand English pounds per
year, tax free; fifthly, you will be given a house next the royal residence
and you will be given 5 servants, one of whom will be young Shiva, if you
wish, and four other boys.  Don't worry I know your preferences."  He
smiled at me knowingly. "You will also be given a cook, a gardener and a
general handyman.  All these will be paid for by the state, as will your
food and any other necessities.  You will be given an entertainment
allowance for diplomatic functions, naturally, and your residence will be
here in the embassy when you are in the UK.  You will entertain here, of
course, both publicly and privately.  Whenever you travel, you will have at
least two servants to attend you.  After a period of two years, if that is
sufficient for you to assess your feelings about us Jalaqis, I will adopt
you into the royal family, and you will be a minor prince.  You will be
royalty, and you will not have to bow to anyone... ever.  This is my
proposition to you... what do you think?"

"Your Exaltedness, what can I say.  I have never been given such a generous
offer in my entire life.  I will be honoured to accept.  Indeed, more than
honoured.  I am having trouble taking this in.  All I can say is I
unequivocally accept, I give you my pledge to be totally loyal to you and
to none other. Also, I have no further use for British citizenship. I am
Jalaqi and I will try to be the best servant you have on your staff."

"I have no doubt about that at all," he replied.  "No doubt at all.  What
are you thinking now?"

"I'm thinking I would love to tell Shiva that he is now my servant if he
wants to be.  I am also thinking I will need to sell my property here in
the UK.  I am thinking I would love to shag Shiva and Tim again – and
possibly Ramez. I am thinking that was the most delicious breakfast I have
had in a long time.  I am thinking I can't take this all in at the moment."

He laughed out loud. "Well you certainly are honest."

The day moved very quickly.  I was fitted with ceremonial Jalaqi clothes
which were very form-fitting and elegant.  Both Tim and Shiva supervised
the fitting, or so they thought, and wasted no time to get to my cock at
every opportunity.  A major surprise was little Tim could speak Jalaqi.
When I asked him about this, he answered that if I fucked his arse he would
tell me.

I told him I would think about that later.  He rattled off something in
Jalaqi and Shiva laughed and smacked the little boy's backside.  Shiva
rattled something back.  I knew I had to learn Jalaqi.  I asked Tim what
had been said, and the little tart said that he told Shiva what had
transpired between us.  Shiva had replied that he thought Tim could bugger
off because he wanted me tall and hard for tonight.  I told Tim to tell
Shiva that I thought I would be able to manage that.  Young Shiva lifted
his head towards me in invitation and all I could do was accept.  I kissed
him deeply.  As we were lip-locked I felt a hand on my wang and a little
tongue surrounding it.  Tim was joining in.


The evening was suddenly upon us.  The Nizam was obviously tired but quite
gracious to his guests.  They all treated him with the greatest respect.  I
noted the great mandarins from the Foreign and Commonwealth Office were
present, and they were quite obsequious.  Ramez and I kept very much in the
background, and indeed the shadows.  I noted the Baroness Malwarsi, a cow
and bitch of spectacular proportions, and who was the representative of the
Foreign Office for our (Jalaqi) region, was present and was particularly
brown nosing.  His Exaltedness obviously did not like her, and at a very
small hand signal, she was shuffled to the back of the room.  It was done
so courteously and so discretely, no one could complain.

After everyone had filed past His Exaltedness and been introduced, he
called for Ramez and myself to come forward and introduced us to the
gathered throng.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I wish to introduce His Highness Prince Ramez Jalaqi
the newly appointed ambassador to Great Britain and His Excellency, Prince
Dr Drake Fillan Jalaqi as my own personal Diplomatic Liaison
Secretary. They will present their papers tomorrow."

There was a scattered round of applause, and a few mumbled Your
Excellencies.  A queue was formed for formal introductions and it proceeded
with formal bows by English civil servants to someone who used to be one of
their own, but whom they had spurned.

I also noted that the Nizam had given me the surname/title of Jalaqi,
indicating I was now a Jalaqi citizen and a member of the royal family and
a prince.  What happened to the two years? I thought.  I was still reeling
from this more than a little.

People passed by me and shook my hand muttering "Your Excellency".  I
smiled automatically and said nothing.  I was surprised from my reverie by
a hissing voice which said, "You got Bradfield sacked, watch your arse."
Bradfield was my old boss.  I focussed on the speaker and it was the
Baroness.  I smiled at her and squeezed her hand tight, as tight as I
could, so her fingers were squashed on her rings – it must have been
painful.  She winced.

"I shall certainly inform His Royal Highness and the Prime Minister," I
said.  "Your concerns will naturally be placed in front of the appropriate
authorities."

She hadn't expected that.  She was used to the FO employees quivering at
her merest word. I saw the fear in her eyes and knew I had created an
enemy.  I noticed Ramez and the Nizam watching the by-play. The line moved
on.

Shortly afterwards the Nizam called me to him.

"Your Highness?"

"It appears there has been a discreet complaint about our new Jalaqi
diplomat."

I could feel myself colouring.

"That must be the Baroness," I said.  "perhaps I held her hand a little
longer than was warranted."

"Oh, I don't think so," His Highness replied.  "I thought maybe not long
enough.  I mentioned it to the Prime Minister not five minutes ago, along
with the rest of the facts in this matter, and the PM wishes to meet
you... and apparently the Baroness. Together.  In the divan.  Now." A
command from my new boss. His tone indicated immediate obedience required.

My first diplomatic meeting, I thought.  This is going to be a doozey!

I strode into the public divan, one in which visitors could wear shoes. It
did not have the luxurious carpets of the embassy's private divan. The PM
was there with a man I knew was a rather senior civil servant.  I had
fucked him more than once.  We also had similar tastes. In boys.  The
embassy staff had organised a couple of comfortable settees for the guests.

"Ahhh, Your Excellency," greeted the PM standing to shake hands.  "I am
delighted to meet you."

"Prime Minister" I muttered back to him as I inclined my head.

  "I understand you were one of our civil servants a short while ago.  It
looks to me as if your rise has been meteoric, in spite of some tragic
errors by one or two of our more senior officials."

He took his seat, and muttered something to the chap.  The man left the
room and returned a moment later with the Baroness.

"Ah, Baroness." said the PM.  He was oily smooth. "The Foreign Office has
gone through some restructuring this evening. He airily waved his
hand. "Cabinet and all that, you know.  Naturally this has caused some
personnel rearrangement.  I have decided that Watson here will be taking
over your role in the Central Region (he smiled at me).  I have reallocated
you to the Irish desk under O'Conner."  The colour, such as it was, drained
out of the Baroness's face.  The Irish desk, for a person of her seniority,
meant the end of her career, and O'Connor who was to be her boss, hated her
with a passion.  No diplomatic post, no Washington, no Paris, Berlin, or
Rome – just a dead end.  I knew this from my days in the FO.

"Oh, I do beg your pardon, Your Excellency – when I saw the Baroness, I
knew there was something I had meant to tell her.  Oh, and you will, in the
morning, hand your desk to Watson.  Don't worry about doing it tonight.  I
have ensured all your files are under lock and key and they are well
guarded. Thank you, Baroness, and good night to you."  He turned away to
speak to me.  Her dismissal was absolute.

"Your Excellency, you do know Mr Watson, I believe.  He will be your direct
channel to me.  I can only apologise for the wrong that was done to you,
and I trust the relationship between our two countries will be very
fruitful."  He left.

This left Watson and me together in the room.

"Well Peewee, how are you?" I asked.

Watson smiled.  He was deferential.  "Your Excellency." He inclined his
head.

"For fuck's sake, Peewee...  My name is as it always was – and I've been
up your arse and you up mine sufficient times for us to be on first name
basis.  Possibly not on formal occasions though."

"I miss that, Fang," he whispered.  I had used his nickname and he had used
mine.  I thought it was time for a kiss.  He was still a little unsure of
himself.  After all, the books don't give any instructions on the protocol
of kissing Diplomatic Liaison Secretaries, especially those of the same
sex.

"I think you just received a serious promotion, Peewee," I said to him as I
extracted my tongue from his throat.

"It looks like you might have too, Fang," he replied while trying to
straighten his clothing.  It hadn't helped that I had shoved my hand down
his trousers to check out if his cock was still there. It was.

"Hmmmm," I replied.  "I will need you after this lot goes home for a
briefing. You will be ready for that I presume; unless of course the PM has
other plans.  You may stay the night, if you wish.  Maybe I shall simply
debrief you."  I leered at him.

We returned to the party.  Quite properly guests were departing with
courteous farewells to Ramez and on my return, to me.

Soon the place was empty of guests except for Peewee.  I introduced him
again to the Nizam and Ramez.  I indicated he was to be our direct link to
the PM and I was going to give him a briefing this evening.

"Use the divan," said Ramez.  "No-one will disturb you there.  Do you want
Shiva this evening to assist?"

"He won't mind working late?" I enquired.

"Of course not.  He will be delighted to assist you in whatever you or our
guest need."

I noticed he said, "our guest".  Peewee on my invitation had become a guest
of my new country.  Peewee had looked a little crestfallen at the mention
of a third person, but, I supposed, that he decided in his mind that
business is business, and recreation was not on the cards.


"God, he's a gorgeous guy," Peewee said after Ramez had left.

"Yes, he is, Peewee, in more ways than one."  Peewee was about to say
something, but at that moment Shiva chose to arrive.  He brought us sweet
smelling tea on a salver.  It had two cups.  We had made ourselves
comfortable on the cushions of the private divan.  I patted beside myself
on the divan and Shiva sat down.  I pulled him close to me and kissed him
lightly.

"I like your customs," remarked Peewee.  I leaned over and kissed him.

"I like kissing, Peewee."

"Hmm," was all he replied.

"Well old chap, how are we going to work this?  Would you like a weekly or
fortnightly briefing?  Do you want to stop over at the embassy and have me
fuck your arse every now and then?  You probably won't get anything written
from me, so you can take note of all our political chats. And don't forget
Peewee, I know you're a devious bastard, so I shall check everything you
write before you leave the embassy.  You will report nothing of any other
activities here.  You will always be given a lovely meal, plenty of Jalaqi
wine and a bed for the night.  I suggest our... what do you want,
fortnightly or weekly briefing sessions (He indicated weekly) be on a
Friday evening.  That way you can give the office the old heave-ho after
Friday drinks, and come directly here for dinner – if that suits you. I
won't always be in this country, but I will give you a number you will
directly be able to contact me on.  Oh, and the only other thing I really
need is the Baroness Malwarsi obliterated.  I want her politically and
personally blown out of the water."

Peewee looked at me aghast. "Malwarsi will have a fit.  She's been ruined
now by being bunged onto the Ireland desk.  What more can be done?"

"She can be disgraced and publicly humiliated.  How about the tabloids?
Baroness in sex romp with 15-year-old teenage girls... Pictures reveal
all... You know the sort of thing, Peewee – after all, you used to do it
for the old PM – and I might add, in the end, to him.  You, Peewee can
do it.  You are also a devious, conniving, arsehole, and you will love to
bring her down.  You hate her as much as I do.  I think the PM knows this,
so you will be given all protection. But then you are so fucking
Machiavellian no one will know you set it up. Do this small thing for me,
and you will have my undying gratitude.  I will do everything to make you a
very successful mandarin.  I will do anything in my power to make it so."

Five days later I was in a luxury private jet flying to my new country.  I
had put my house on the market, closed my bank accounts, had all my goods
and chattels packed, shipped off to the embassy and finally loaded onto the
embassy jet. Upright seats were not an issue.  I was lying down virtually
the whole way.  Wrapped in my arms was my little Shiva.  Tim, much to his
grumpiness, was left behind and told to go back to school.  Tim asked for
one last fuck from Ramez and me before we left, and we obliged.  We told
him we'd be back soon and that had to satisfy him. The fuck did make us an
hour or so late for our scheduled take-off time.  This pissed off the
airport authorities, but we were diplomats – almost minor gods, and
Ramez showed me how to treat inferiors, namely uppity public servants.  To
people who were courteous Ramez was the soul of courtesy in return.  To the
discourteous, they tended to wish they had never been born.

After a couple of hours or so in the air and a pleasant dalliance with
Shiva, Ramez gave me a CD player, CDs and some headphones to put on.  There
was a spare set for Shiva to plug into as well.  Ramez spoke to Shiva, and
he seemed to be saying something quite firmly.  When he had finished, Ramez
told me he had ordered Shiva to ensure I knew the basic things to say –
greetings and farewells, minor pleasantries such as `excuse me' and `thank
you' (which I had already learned), requests `May I please have...' and so
forth by the time we arrived in Jalaqistan.  If I didn't have some basics,
he would lose fucking privileges until I did.  The CDs were language
lessons.  As he wandered off, I was almost certain I heard Ramez chuckling.
Needless to say, by the time I arrived in Jalaqistan, I knew the contents
of my first lessons perfectly, and could be as courteous as any Jalaqi.
Ramez was delighted. Shiva preened. Incidentally, even after the fucks, Tim
hadn't told me how he knew Jalaqi.

We were ferried in richly decorated horse carts to my new home.  They were
open, and people stopped and stared.  They saw an obvious foreigner in the
cart and ogled.  I waved and greeted them with hands together Jalaqi
fashion.  The people were delighted and bowed at the waist and saluted me
back.  It was quite a delightful little parade.  We arrived at my house,
surrounded by friendly onlookers.  Ramez, Shiva and I climbed out of the
cart amidst cheers and smiles from well-wishers.

Ramez told me I should open the gates of my house and invite all the
well-wishers in.  I would, of course, have to feed them.  I could feel a
problem arising here, but Ramez laughed, clapped me on the back and told me
not to worry as all had been taken care of.

I opened the gates myself, and called out in bad Jalaqi, "You all –
please come."

There were gales of laughter as the crowd came forward into my garden (more
a meadow) and started on the drinks and food that was laid out on tables.
Obviously, my staff was on track.  Youngsters kept on replenishing the food
and I had a little to eat.  Shiva did not leave my side.  I was having an
impromptu party and I was the host.  I was becoming very tired and I think
Ramez sensed this.

"Say thank you to everyone for being here.  Please eat and drink."  Ramez
helped me through this in my halting Jalaqi and I retired inside.  My
little Shiva always close by.  Ramez came in too.  People clapped and
cheered my lousy speech.

When I actually was inside my new home, there were four lads lined up in
immaculate Jalaqi trousers. Their nut-brown torsos were bare.  They were my
new servants.  They all appeared to be between 11 and 13.

The first lad was Ganesha.  "His father called him Ganesha for good
reason." said Ramez.  "Ganesha is the elephant god and this boy was born
with a long trunk."  He chuckled.  He spoke quickly in Jalaqi, and the boy
dropped his pants. His cock was covered with the longest foreskin.

"Jesus Christ," I let out.  "That is beautiful."  Ganesha smiled.  He
didn't understand English, but he understood my admiration.  He shoved his
hips forward for me to feel, which I did.  The meat was firm, and the skin
easily manipulated.  He had no hairs and his balls were not fully mature.
He was short and, like all Jalaqis, very good looking.  He started to
harden, and he smiled.  I rather thought I was going to enjoy Ganesha. I
tapped him on the arse and he moved back.  Enticingly, he didn't pull up
his pants.  I reached out and pulled his cock again.  He laughed as did I.

"This next boy is Aravan," said Ramez.  Aravan stepped forward and dropped
his pants.  His uncut dick was normal 11-12-year-old size.  I felt him up a
bit and nodded approval.

"This is Chaitanya."  I beckoned him forward and he too lost his pants.  He
was uncut but had a short foreskin which I felt with appreciation. He
stiffened almost immediately, and I nodded my admiration.  He smiled and
stepped back.

The last lad was a bit shorter than the others and his skin had a slightly
lighter colour, almost caucasian.  He had dark brown eyes with a hint of an
Asiatic cast to them.  He had high cheek bones and perfect skin.  He had
jet black hair and was totally beautiful.

"This is Ali.  He is 10 years old.  He is from one of the more northern
tribes.  They have a different religion and they cut their boys.  The Nizam
thought of him as a special gift to you as you too are cut."

Ali moved towards me uncertainly with his eyes cast down.  I lifted his
head up with a finger under his chin.  I then kissed him on the nose.  He
giggled, and I felt his little cocklet through his cotton trousers which he
immediately lost.  He was delighted.  His three other pals seemed to be
delighted too.

I was feeling a bit tired, so I asked Ramez to tell the boys I wanted a
bath.  The youngsters were to join me.

Ramez quietly spoke to Shiva and he scampered off, shooing the other four
in front of him.  They managed to leave their pants behind and the sight of
their little tight bums was quite enchanting.

Ramez shot me a glance and laughed.  I knew that he knew what I was
thinking – and he knew I knew.  His arm went around my shoulder and he
pulled me into a kiss.  I responded, and we kissed for few moments.

"Right – now to learn some Jalaqi customs," he started out.  "Firstly,
these boys are your servants.  They are literally your property.  They are
not slaves, but they belong to you.  I suppose the English word could be
indentured in the Dickensian sense. Perhaps you could also be seen as their
father. This especially so for Shiva and little Ali. Both have lost their
parents. The others are charity kids because they also lost their parents
in an avalanche a couple of years ago. Normally they would be taken in by
the village, but their whole village was wiped out. Aravan, Ganesh and
Chaitanya were out hunting when the avalanche occurred and so
survived. Sometimes, it's a hard life being a mountain person.

"Secondly, it would be very courteous of you to fuck them quite soon.  I
know...I know you are totally infatuated with Shiva, but remember he is a
Jalaqi too, as incidentally are you.  Remember, we like boys and there is
nothing wrong or illegal about boy or girl love in Jalaqistan.  In fact,
the age of consent here is when a kid can talk and say yes or no.

Ramez laughed uproariously at his own good humour.  I had to laugh as well.

"The other thing is that you will be responsible for every one of your
household's schooling.  I suggest you send two kids to the morning session
and the other two kids to the afternoon session.

This seemed like a plan, but I had to get myself bathed and have a lie
down.  I was exhausted.  I apologised to my friend and he called for Shiva.
The lad came wearing only a short sarong low on his hips.  Ramez spoke to
him rapidly and he grabbed my hand and escorted me to the bath.  I
farewelled Ramez over my shoulder and he laughed and said he would see me
tomorrow.  Late.  He laughed again, and I wondered why.

When Shiva and I entered the bathroom, I saw why.  Four beautiful naked
boys were waiting for me.  They swarmed all over me and I too was naked in
a few moments.  All except little Ali raised their hands to their foreheads
in the total greeting of respect and bowed.  Little Ali had darted forward
and kissed my cock.  This was a really good way to start a bath.

I had been properly soaped up by Shiva and the kids poured hot water over
me.  I was now properly cleaned. I hadn't yet gotten into the bath, which
was more like a small swimming pool. The water was piping hot and I just
oozed into a semi-coma. The boys came in with me and each chose a body part
to rub and I have never been more relaxed in my life. I was more than a
little surprised that they stayed in so long as the water was very hot. I
later found out the Jalaqis had very hot baths from an early age and so
were inured to it. For the lads this bath was really just warm, as I would
later find out.

I finally had enough and got out of the bath. Shiva and Ganesh held a towel
and Chaitanya and Aravan dried me. That got me a stiff dick. The boys also
quickly dried off. Ali had a thin robe for me to put on and I slipped into
the very fine silk, which caressed my body in a way that is almost
impossible to describe.

I headed to my bedroom and beckoned the boys to come with me.

I lied down on my very large bed and the boys draped themselves around
me. Again, I thought of paradise. There was a book beside the bed. It was a
Jalaqi/English dictionary. I thought `Glory be' and noticed it also was
English/Jalaqi.

I idly hugged the closest lad to me. He was Ali. Shiva quickly grabbed the
book, looked up a word, pointed to Ali and showed me what he had looked
up. The word was `virgin'. Ali was a virgin. I thanked Shiva and looked at
Ali. It was now up to me to devirginise him, as it were.

Shiva had lied down again and was out for the count. I had forgotten he had
been on as heavy a travelling schedule as I had.

Strangely my Jalaqi vocab seemed to have increased without me doing
anything consciously about it.  Ali looked at me with his huge, moist,
brown eyes. I said to him in passable Jalaqi "I'm very tired. Later we
fuck, OK?"

He smiled at me, nodded, and his "OK" was exactly my accent. I thought I
would speak English to him as much as possible and he would learn quickly.

That's the last I remember. I was asleep in an instant.

Waking up was a very nice experience. I was surrounded by the prone forms
of five naked boys. Snuggled to my left was Shiva who was flaccid. Under my
right armpit was Ali. His little cut cock was as stiff as any cock ever
was. I was also hard. It wasn't just a morning boner though I needed to
piss, I was also feeling very randy. Ali was going to be the object of my
lust today. I sneaked out of my bed to download my morning stream and when
I had finished, I quietly came back to bed. I was very quiet and tried not
to disturb anyone, but when I got back Ganesh, Chaitanya and Aravan had
disappeared and Ali and Shiva were lying on the bed, provocatively. I loved
the stiff dicks. I bent over and gave Shiva a very long and rather hot good
morning kiss. Ali looked on impassively. I saw a tear form at the side of
his eye which he quickly wiped away. I thought I knew the problem. I
disengaged from Shiva and picked up little Ali.

He was into his first cuddle of the morning with a considerable amount
ιclat. I gave him a tight squeeze and I suddenly felt a warm wetness on
my tummy. Ali burst into tears and I realized he had peed on himself and
me. He was mortified. I held him tighter and tried to kiss his tears
away. He was having none of it and struggled out of my arms. I was laughing
fit to burst, but the little fellow ran away bawling his eyes out.

I knew something had to be done here. I thought he might have been shamed
in front of me and Shiva. Unfortunately, my vocab didn't stretch that far,
even with a dictionary.

Time to call Ramez, which I did. I explained the situation and he
laughed. He promised to be there as soon as possible to help sort the
problem. As far as I was concerned there wasn't one, but little Ali had
other ideas. I trotted off to the bathroom where I thought I might find
him, but to no avail. I followed the faint sound of weeping and discovered
him in another bathroom totally hidden beneath a pile of used towels. The
towels were heaving in time to his sobs. At least the bawling had abated
somewhat. I carefully lifted off the towels. The little chap sniffed and
when he realised it was me, started to bawl again. I hugged him to me and
made shushing sounds. It did not work. I really had difficulty in
understanding what the fuss was about. I would just have to wait for
Ramez. This time I wouldn't let the little tyke go. He continued to cry but
not so raucously. Ramez arrived.

Ramez roared at the little fellow. I later found out he told Ali to "Shut
up or he wouldn't allow him to work here."

Ali replied something, and he looked fierce doing it. His voice was halfway
between a sob and defiance. Ramez interpreted and told me the little guy
totally defied him by telling Ramez he couldn't forbid Ali to work for me
as Ali belonged to me and I was the only one with that power.

Ramez lifted his hand as if to hit him. Ali didn't flinch, and Ali defied
him again telling Ramez that I was the only one allowed to beat him. He
also told Ramez I must now beat him for pissing on me. I was very proud of
Ali for standing up for his and my rights.

I told Ramez to tell him it was an accident and I didn't mind at all, and
in fact I quite liked little boy piss. He looked at me in total
disbelief. He said something to Ramez and Ramez told me he said that he had
to be beaten. The other boys were nearby, and Ramez told Aravan to get a
switch from the garden. Aravan returned with a switch of very hard and very
springy willow. I knew this would seriously hurt. So did Ali.

I swung the switch at a nearby cushion. It made a very satisfactory swish
thwack sound. Again the little guy didn't flinch. Ramez stood by watching
the proceedings. I moved towards Ali. He had pulled on a sarong. I pulled
up the cloth and bared his arse.  I pushed gently on his neck and he bent
over. This time I hit the pile of towels he had been hiding under. Again he
didn't flinch. I laid the willow on his bare, cute arse, raised it above my
head, brought it down with a satisfying swoosh and lightly tapped his arse.

"Ok, punishment complete. I do not want to have to beat you again." Ramez
laughingly interpreted.

I tried for a stern look and failed miserably.

"Ramez, please tell Ali to remember I am a prince in Jalaqistan. As a
prince I should have a bodyguard. Please tell him he has defended me today,
very bravely. Also tell him he is to be my official bodyguard and I will
ensure he gets the appropriate weapon and uniform."

Shiva, Ganesha, Aravan and Chaitanya applauded Ali and said things that
sounded like congratulations and lucky bastard and so on.

Ramez was totally delighted. He told me that the people from whom Ali came
were fierce and warlike. They were totally devoted and loyal to the Nizam
and also were his bodyguards. I had now made Ali my most devoted servant
and for me to make no error, but Ali would die for me.

I took little Ali's hand and made a move to the bedroom. He wriggled out of
my grip and bowed his head to the floor and kissed my bare feet. He
muttered something and Ramez interpreted. "I am your slave and the dust
beneath your feet. I am yours forever."

A feeling of total love seemed to rush through me. Again through Ramez I
told him, "You are my son and with Shiva you are mine forever." I had
picked him up and kissed him on the nose. He had tears in his eyes and a
huge smile. My little bodyguard gave a giggle and I cuddled him tight along
with Shiva. Shiva had tears streaming down his face. He made a move to
prostrate himself at my feet. I stopped him and gave him a peck.

"You're my son, not my puppy."

I kissed him on the nose as well.

"Ok, let's all jump in the big pool, and then I am having a lie down with
my bodyguard."

Ramez having finished his interpreting duties took his leave but not before
telling me I had done an amazing thing with the kids. This will become a
legend in Jalaqistan.

"You have no idea how proud you have made all the kids. If Ali doesn't
burst with pride today, I shall be exceedingly surprised. The other kids
will be proud because they too will be part of the legend as they are
associated with you and are Ali's friends. The Qazani tribe will also hear
of this and they too will protect you to the death. No one, but no one will
dare to hurt you. You might not quite understand, but you have done an
amazing thing. You really are going to have to give him a good fuck
today. Don't be afraid of hurting him. He will take anything you want to
dish out. Why do I suspect that won't be a problem...? I suppose it's
because I know you are kind. But do make sure he wears your spunk today. It
will be his badge of honour. Incidentally, I'll send down a couple of
uniforms for your bodyguard. I just happen to have two in roughly his size
from when I was a kid and played soldiers with my cousin. You will have to
buy his sword though. I treasure mine and I know Hanu (my cousin) does
his. Ok, and I'm out of here."

I beckoned the kids to follow me and we all traipsed into the bathroom. The
lads soaped up Ali and me, we rinsed off and jumped into the hot pool. For
the kids it was just a splash in a warm pool. For me, it was as if I was
about to be parboiled.

I should have entered slowly but didn't. "Ow, arrrrugha," I shouted and was
out in a split second. "Oochi, oochi," I howled dancing around, and four
boys, still steaming away in the extremely hot water were roaring with
laughter. The only one not laughing was little Ali. He had leapt out when I
did and quickly brought me a towel. It was cool against my hot flesh and I
thanked him. My Jalaqi was starting to feel natural to me. At least the
simple expressions were. His gentle handling of my nuts and the kiss on the
end of my cock, with a little bit of tongue on the piss slit seemed to
indicate the next stage was going to be fun.

A half hour later, a toilet stop, followed by a shower (I really like my
arse to be perfectly clean for sex) followed by a light breakfast with Ali,
found us together in bed. He looked at me with big eyes, moist with unshed
tears. I wiped his eyes a little and the tears fell.

I cooed at him and asked if he was scared. He seemed to understand me and
said no. Then in perfectly clear English he said "You make me man." The
accent and tone was pure Ramez. And I simply told him in Jalaqi, "Yes."

I cuddled him to me and kissed him. His lips moved in a counterpoint to
mine, giving us maximum contact. I was totally in love with his wee cock
which stood up straight and was as hard as any cock I had ever felt. He
certainly knew the moves, and as his hands ran down my back he opened his
legs to me and I felt his crack. I ran my finger from top to bottom of his
cleft and toyed with his opening for a couple of moments. He pushed towards
me and the top joint slipped in. I was certainly hot to trot, but then I
nearly always am. I thought a little tongue action might be helpful. I
tongued his ear which elicited squeaks of delight. I moved down his body
tonguing each tit until it stood upright. I moved down to his navel which
was a wee innie. His reaction was to buck his arse which helped me slip
past his rampant boycock and start to tongue his taint. My tongue raced
towards his little target and once it reached the small muscle, started to
do circuits which caused him to scratch into my back. It didn't hurt, but
at this stage of my randiness, driving nails into my hands would not have
hurt. I looked at Ali and asked him in English if he was ready.  He
understood. He nodded and took my slippery cock and put it at his little
wrinkle and I pushed. The head popped in and I stopped. He gave me a teary
smile and pressed on my backside to keep going. I kept going and slowly
started the rhythm of sex. The enjoyment I was having was a total... Well I
can't really explain. The only person I had felt so good with was Shiva. It
was a totally in my heart thing.

Finally I reached my orgasm. I blew into the little guy what felt like
litres of cum. I also felt like I was blowing into him litres of love. His
cocklet started to spasm and I felt his devotion flowing back into me. It
was an amazing few moments. I kissed his cock and sucked it into my
mouth. He panted a little, but the smile on his face and his radiant eyes
told me everything. I lashed his cock and balls with my tongue and he
finally came. He hugged my head tight on himself while he bucked and
reared. I stuck my finger into his moist hole and his squeaks of pleasure
were enough to make me not stop. I penetrated him once more and this time
we settled into slow lovemaking. The kisses were deep and languorous. His
arse was totally compliant, and somehow between our first bout and now he
had learned to use his internal muscles to good, rippling effect. He
shagged me properly. I couldn't stop cuddling him and we drifted off to
sleep. My last thought was this had been a hell of a morning.

When I awoke, I had the feeling of total contentment.  Little Ali was
quietly snoring next to me and I gave him a light kiss. He slept on. I
looked at his little cut cock and wondered at the pleasure he had given
me. I quietly got up and wandered outside my room. I still hadn't properly
explored my house which was huge, by any standards. I knew where the
bedrooms were, and the bathroom and lavatories. Thus far I had only had
breakfast in my home and that was on the veranda.  Ganesh spotted me and
attached himself to me. He took me by the hand and led me around, He showed
me everything.  I had an office with a desk and a chair for me and
comfortable visitors' chairs. There was also a European style dining room
with seating for 20. Why? I still haven't figured out that one. There was a
huge divan, festooned with more cushions than I could count. This would be
where I would entertain local guests. Nearby, there was also a small divan
with room for only about four. This was quite intimate.

At this point Ganesh pulled me down and indicated I should sit. He
positioned a small table next to me and indicated I should wait. I did. I
relaxed on the cushions and started to drift off. Ganesh came back with a
tray laden with snacks and aromatic Jalaqi tea. I picked at the snacks and
drank the tea. I made Ganesh have some too. In some ways he was a proper
little predator. He opened his legs, so I had a full view of all his
assets. The look was definitely worthwhile. And it did have the desired
effect.

I ran my hand up his inner thigh and played a little with his balls. His
cock was obviously hard but the skin was still over it. He did indeed have
a long foreskin. I pushed his sarong up and I went down on his
stiffy. Using only my lips and tongue I pushed the skin back and started on
his knob. He fell back onto the cushions and I pulled his sarong completely
off. He still had on a light Jalaqi shirt and that was off very smartly. I
knew neither he nor the other boys were virgins, so I zeroed in on his hole
quite quickly.

The way he pawed at me, I knew he was ready – at least ready to be
lubed. His hands ran up and down my body and he managed to get my shirt
off. Next came the cord that held up my Jalaqi trousers. Of course, I was
stiff as a board and he kissed my cock. He wrestled the lube from me and
greased me very nicely. He then aimed me at his hole and pushed me in. He
was very tight and caused strange and interesting things to happen to my
very happy member. I really was quite pleased and I rogered the little chap
until he came. Well, it was a dry cum but pretty intense nevertheless. I
settled in for a bit of a snooze after I had also cum and woke up an hour
or so later.

And so, my days passed in pleasure and learning. I spent a few hours each
day in my office. My job consisted of intelligence analysis, for even
though Jalaqistan had a very firm alliance with the UK, neighbouring
countries still had greedy eyes focussed on my new, little homeland. I was
learning Jalaqi and every day my speaking and understanding got
better. Indeed, after three months I was able to read, write, speak and
understand colloquial Jalaqi. I was always speaking to little Ali and Shiva
in English. They also had an English language tutor, other than me. They
learned very, very quickly. The other lads were given the option of
learning or not, and each of them indicated that when I could speak good
Jalaqi, then and only then would they consider learning English. I said it
was a deal. However, they did learn a few basics like, "I want a fuck now,
please," and "I want to suck your cock". They ultimately did learn.

We were a happy little family. Shiva was the perfect son, servant, and bed
partner. I had bought Ali a sword and he was as proud as Punch with it and
his uniform. He was the perfect bodyguard and just totally gorgeous decked
out, all 1.25 metres (4'1") of him. If Ramez or anyone else for that matter
came to visit, Ali would stand ramrod stiff beside me until I dismissed
him.

If I had to see the Nizam on business, or even just socially, my little
bodyguard was with me. He was the only person permitted to have weapons
near the Nizam, except for His Highness's own bodyguards. This was of
course a very supreme honour and Ali was extremely proud of the trust that
had been given him.

All my visitors were firmly told that any weapons they might have were to
be left at the antechamber just inside the front door. Ali was very serious
about his duties, and I loved him all the more for it.

Shiva was my general factotum. I am not sure how he did it, He had only
just turned 12, but he ran my household with efficiency and
style. Virtually everything I required was anticipated and nothing ever
seemed to go wrong. There was always plenty of food, plenty of supplies,
clean clothes, and a beautiful neat house. All boys, including Shiva,
attended School. I had them all attend the morning session, so I had an
empty house except for the other servants six mornings a week. My cook kept
to himself in the kitchen; the gardener was always outside in the garden
and the general handyman was wherever something, indeed anything, needed to
be done. He was about my age and I had cast a wicked eye on him once or
twice. He always smiled back demurely.

Ramez was back in England after about a week. He was being an ambassador
and doing ambassadorial things. I spoke with him regularly. Certain
intimate matters had to be discussed by mail, which went in the diplomatic
bag. He got on very well with Peewee Watson. They both shared the same
predilections and each other. Peewee was also an astute politician and had
a razor-sharp mind. This of course more than delighted Ramez. I discovered
his cock also pleased Ramez and little Timmy.  Peewee's Friday nights were
filled with a fair amount of politics and a lot of eating, drinking and
being merry and gay, if you get my drift.

Part of my deal was I would return to the UK for a month every three months
and Ramez would fly over to Jalaqistan. My first three months work in
Jalaqistan had finished and I was off to the UK to relieve Ramez. On this
trip my bodyguard came with me, but I told him I wasn't going to allow him
to miss a month of school every three months.

His reply to that was "Yes my honourable father", which basically meant
Blow it out your arse, Nerml. All the kids called me baba Drek which meant
"daddy Drake". This was very respectful. That is all the kids called me
that except Shiva and Ali who just called me baba, showing they were
actually my children.  `Ramatba' or `my honourable father' was a title of
great respect and generally used on the most formal of occasions. It could
also be used ironically, which is what Ali had just done, the cheeky little
bastard.

Shiva elected to stay at home to ensure the house was run properly and the
lads behaved. The night before we left the enormity of my separation from
him became apparent. We made love several times and the weight of our
separation came crashing down on me. I was going to miss him sorely.

When morning came, all too quickly in my view, I bathed with the lads
assisting me. I was very emotional about this as it would be the first time
I would be away from my little harem. I gave them a stern lecture about
minding Shiva, attending school, and calling me every evening. They looked
at me most solemnly, nodded, dropped their trousers, and asked me never to
forget them. At this point I realised I didn't have a photo of them so I
told Shiva to organise one and get it sent to me in the bag. I told them I
would only be gone for a month and asked how it was possible to forget such
a naughty bunch of boys like them. They laughed and we all had a big group
hug. I kissed each one, played with each cock, smacked each bum, and sent
them off to have breakfast then to school. Ali and I took a car to the
airport.

The flight to the UK was reasonably pleasant. I had a naked Ali beside my
naked self virtually the whole way. He was so loving and sensual. He arched
his smooth body against me and had me on the edge more times than I could
count. He sucked my cock juice out of me; that is the spoof that didn't go
up his arse. He was ready for me whenever I felt like it. I thought he was
just perfect. Along with Shiva, he was my perfect son.

By the time we got to the embassy Ali was exhausted. He was fast asleep,
and I carried my little bodyguard into my room and put him on the bed and
he just slept. It was terrific to see Ramez again and we hugged each
other. He was as sexy as ever.

I told him that business could wait until the next day, and that I wanted
to go to bed.

"I know you fucked Ali from Jalaqistan to London and you still want to
shag!" Ramez was a little shocked.

I looked at him a bit sheepishly and nodded.

"I knew you would make a great Jalaqi, I just knew it! Unfortunately, I
have a state dinner to attend in an hour or so and regardless, I have to
get ready. So, you go to your bedroom and I'll see what's on offer."

He clapped me on the shoulder and gave me a shove towards my quarters. I
laughed and teetered forward. I went in and now it was my turn to be
shocked. My little bodyguard was still fast asleep but seriously wrapped
around a totally naked, totally erect, totally sexy Tim.

Tim had had a growth spurt in the three months I had been away. He looked
absolutely gorgeous. He was all over beautiful in a boyish way. He looked
at me with a big cheesy grin. I beckoned to him. He untangled himself from
Ali, who slept on, and came to me. His once tiny cock now had more
substance and a little more length. Very suckable, I thought but first
things first. He gave me a hug and a kiss. He undid my trousers which fell
off and he pulled my shirt over my head. I was now as naked as he was. I
grabbed him by the hips kissed him hard and spun him around. I plunged into
him and he gave a squeak. I worked his arse good and proper and he used his
internal muscles to give me maximum pleasure. I nuzzled into his neck and
he was compliant. He arched back into me and I kissed him passionately. He
melted totally into me and complemented my every move with a countermove of
his own.  I wanted him badly. Forever. This was a new sensation for me. My
two boys were Shiva and Ali, I didn't need another. Anyway, he was British
and probably had a family somewhere. Why did Oxford spring to mind? These
thoughts flashed through my mind and I pulled myself back to what I was
doing. He did a wicked internal thing with his arse and I came in
buckets. After my fuckathon with Ali, I didn't think I would have any juice
left.

Wrong, Drake, wrong.

I had totally recharged and was delivering a full cartload into Timmy's boy
cunt.

After banging Timmy's arse, even I was getting a bit exhausted. I flopped
down on my bed next to Ali and dragged Tim down with me. He lay on top of
me and tickled my lips with his tongue. I guess when I flopped down, I
disturbed Ali who started to wake up.

"Fuck, he's cute," whispered Timmy.

"Yes, he is," I agreed.

"I'd like to... you know..."

"Sure Tim, if he agrees."

Tim leaned over, and kissed Ali and the littlest bodyguard happily
responded by snaking his arms around Tim.

"You aren't a dream," Ali wondered in Jalaqi.

"No, I'm not," responded Timmy firmly, also in Jalaqi.

At this point both kids were in a make-out session that would last the
whole evening, if I didn't intervene. I left them to it and just settled
down to rest.

I dozed off and was lightly sleeping when I heard Ali say to Timmy that he
wished Timmy could be part of our family. This was weird because that was
my hope only a short while before.

"Maybe your dad could buy me," was Timmy's response. I have to say I was
extremely startled at that and sat bolt upright.

"Waddaya mean buy you?" I blurted out.

"Aww, you know, my contract. It kinda finishes soon anyway. And then I'll
have only Boys' House to go to. That's the pits." Timmy looked a bit
miserable, and Ali picked up on it and just hugged him.

"Don't worry Tim, baba will fix everything."

Ali's faith was touching if irritating, flinging me into a mess about which
I knew absolutely nothing. He was a terrific, devoted, if pint sized,
bodyguard with an amazing knack of hurling me into unwanted situations. Oh
well, I thought, Ramez will be back soon.

I have to say I was totally and completely perplexed by this current turn
of events. I really was on a steep learning curve. Buying an English boy to
keep him out of some kind of boys' home seemed to my mind close to
outrageous.

Ramez arrived a couple of hours later looking reasonably happy with
himself.

He grinned at me with a grin I just knew held news. Good or bad I wasn't
sure. I thought good, else why the smile.

"Well Drek," (he used the childish mispronunciation mischievously and I
knew it did not bode well for someone, possibly me,) "Your pal Peewee is
one of the most Machiavellian, conniving, sons of bitches it has ever been
my pleasure to meet. The bastard is evil, positively evil, wicked. He was
spawned by the devils of the seven hells and is so, so... " He paused for a
breath. "Naughty!"

The childish word caught me off guard after the earlier diatribe and I
guffawed.

"Wha... wha... what's... Peewee done now?" I tried with limited success to
control myself.

"Peewee knew you were arriving today and he sorted a little present for
you."

"Oh Christ," I thought. "What's this?"

>From under his arm, Ramez pulled an evening tabloid... one of the more
explicit and somewhat purple varieties of evening rag. The headline,
followed by a quarter page photo was HIGH SOCIETY SEX ROMP – BARONESS
BANGING BABY BEAUTIES. And there was a picture of Baroness Malwarsi and
(they had to have been photoshopped) obviously under-aged girls with big
tits and no whiskers on their teenaged twats.

Frankly, I just didn't know where to look, what to say, what to do. I think
I even felt a little faint. Photoshopped or not, Malwarsi was ruined for
life. She may be able to prove her innocence, but the image was out there,
and it would follow her forever. She was now a laughingstock. (The
following day even the Conservative press reflected on Malwarsi's public
service demise.)

Ramez was right. Peewee was all those things he called him. I whispered a
quiet prayer of thanks to Peewee.

"Oh, and just to add insult to injury, Malwarsi was at the dinner
tonight. She was discreetly asked to step outside for a moment. She was
obviously shown the paper, came back inside, gathered her things, and
left. There were a few titters from the vicinity of Peewee's table and a
newspaper was discreetly disposed of by a waiter. Oh dear, it would have
been perfect had you been there. Peewee tells me he will try to call about
midnight."

The last thing I wanted was a bout with Peewee this evening, but I thought
it would be churlish to refuse. I gave the OK.

"Ramez, I need to ask you about something." We went to a side office
outside my room.

"Sure, go ahead."

I explained to him about the desire I had for Timmy and then about the
interaction between Timmy and Ali. I told him about the contract and buying
it out. I let him know I really didn't understand what was going on there.

"Ah, of course you don't. I only mentioned it in passing on your first
night here. You might remember I said there was a chap, an old Oxford
friend, actually, who keeps me supplied with English boys, and Tim was my
current favourite."

"Yah, I remember..."

"So much happened that little time I never did explain. Well, a certain Mr
Tobias Wolfram collects waifs, usually abandoned kids, from the streets and
brings them home and looks after them. They get a very comfortable life,
but they must have sex from quite a young age. This brings in extra money
for a few comforts and so on. When they turn 12, they should go to a single
sex boys or girls home run by other people. So says the law for fostering
waifs.

"Apparently, for a certain cash gift, Mr Wolfram can organise for a child
to be lost to the system and go his own merry way. I think this is what
Timmy is alluding to. If you want him, you can buy him out. He is getting
to the age, you know, when the kids should get properly into the treadmill
of government bureaucracy. He'll be lost then. It's a pity, really, because
I quite like him. But he's just on the edge of getting a little old for my
specific tastes."

"OK," I nodded. "And what is the number on this cash gift?"

Ramez answered with "Last time I heard it was about two thousand quid."

"Yeah, OK. I can do two thousand. Let's organise it. We won't say anything
to Ali or Tim until it's done. Do you have any details about Tim?"

"Like what?" Ramez asked.

"Family name, birth date... You know, personal shit."

"Yeah, I've got the lot."

"Good, I'll need it to make him Jalaqi."

Ramez laughed. "You are doing ok, you know. You are doing better than
ok. What? Will you do the formalities here in the embassy and take him home
as your adopted son? Well, you can you know. As a prince, you will need
royal approval from my uncle, and I can tell you right now that is not
going to be a problem. He is extremely happy with your work, and your last
intelligence report averted a disaster of major proportions. Oh, and by the
way, Tim is extremely intelligent. With his cut of the cash he bought
himself some books on Jalaqi language and in something like three weeks was
fluent in very basic Jalaqi. His vocab and language expertise have grown
exponentially since then. He reads, writes and you've heard him
speak. What's more his schoolwork is exceptional."

"Waddayamean?" I had no idea what he was talking about. "What's happened to
make His Highness so happy with me?"

"Shall we say that a US led expansionist team had tried to infiltrate one
of our northern tribes near our oil pipelines. Word had filtered through by
tribal messengers there was unusual activity up there and your
recommendation was there should be some investigation. This occurred. It
led to a major but unpublicised diplomatic hissy-fit between the US and the
UK/Jalaqistan alliance. The US withdrew with its tail between its legs. At
least they didn't get to start a war in our country and that is mainly
thanks to you."

"How come I didn't know about this?"

"This was happening while you were a mile-high up Ali's arse. The cables
only just came through a couple of hours or so ago. The cables were very
lengthy. The one from my uncle was addressed to His Highness Dr Drake
Fillan. You have received a very serious promotion and your power is almost
limitless. Well if not limitless, at least as broad as mine. And about the
cables the cryptographer had to decode them, don't forget."

"Good point!" I smiled at him and we poured ourselves a whiskey and wished
each other health.

I don't know what came over me but I suddenly asked Ramez if I could suck
his cock.

"Have you ever heard me refuse such a request?" was his reply.

I was rewarded with a thick, syrupy cumload which was immensely
satisfying. I really did enjoy the boyish spooge my eldest lad produced,
but occasionally a good, manly treat was just what the doctor ordered.

"Ahh Drake," my friend remarked, "Your tongue is as talented as
ever. Incidentally, my trip home has been delayed for a day or so as we
have a meeting with the PM and Peewee tomorrow sometime, about the little
fracas in the north I just mentioned."

"Look, I'm buggered and I'm really going to have to have a sleep. If Peewee
arrives and wants to snuggle in, he can, but he'll have to take his
chances."

Ramez was OK with that.

"Fine, I'll let security know."

With that we retired. It was past 1:30 am, and no Peewee.

I slept quite late. I arose at about 11 am feeling in tune with the
world. I had a languorous and pleasing stretch and leapt out of
bed. Obviously, I made some noise as my breakfast was brought to me on a
tray by Tim followed by a smartly uniformed Ali. Ali was still on duty. He
really did have to have some down time.

I pointed to a door off my room.

"Ali, there is a small divan. I want you to strip off, take Tim and go play
some games or something. We are in our embassy and are perfectly safe. I do
not need a bodyguard here. Do you understand me?"

"Oh yes, Rama..."

"Ali!!" I snapped my fingers and pointed. He didn't get to finish his
cheeky rendition of `Ramatba'. He knew I meant it and fled to the divan,
but not without a cheeky giggle. I was totally pleased that he was still
little boy enough to have an edge of naughtiness and disobedience in
him. He also had the cutest arse.

The next two days moved very quickly. There was a multitude of
meetings. One was with the PM. The little fracas had caused more than a
tiny diplomatic storm. Peewee and I attended all of them. UK flunkies
continuously surrounded us. I only had a few minutes alone with him. Just
enough to whisper a hearty thanks.

Ramez saw I was becoming annoyed at not being able to have a decent chat
with Peewee.

"Drake," Ramez advised, "You have more seniority than the first secretary
here, and you can call `time out' for any reason you want. Take time out to
have a yarn with Peewee and get it out of your system. Make sure the others
know Peewee is your man in the UK. That will give him a career boost, no
doubt. After this little to-do, we may need to consider an embassy back
home. You and I will need to discuss this and then speak to my uncle. I
think Peewee would possibly make a fine ambassador. You might like to feel
him out – as well as up." Again, Ramez laughed at his own good
humour. Ramez left for the airport and his flight home.

A couple of hours later I was in another meeting with some paper pushers
discussing virtually nothing. This time I really was fed up and called a
halt. "Ladies and gentlemen, I need to attend to other matters. Will you
come with me please, Mr Watson? I can assure you that nothing is going to
come of this meeting. So, you can continue discussing this futility or
simply call it a day. I suggest the latter. Good day to you all." I left
the meeting with Peewee in tow.

"Christ Fang," worried Peewee, "What got into you then?"

"I've had enough of this humbug bullshit. Those guys are just shuffling
papers, talking high falutin' military intelligence they know nothing of,
and are wasting my time. Peewee, you are my liaison man here, I would like
you to inform those ill-bred arseholes who condescended to allow me some
top-secret information from the FO that it was I who collected that
intel. I want them reminded that I am not a flunky from the FO and that I
am a prince of the royal family. I am also on a level with His Excellency
as the most senior diplomat in this embassy and am currently the de facto
ambassador. I am happy to work on a less formal basis than usual, but I
will not tolerate condescension or disrespect. To do so is to demean my
Nizam and my nation. Make no mistake. I am a Jalaqi and I have no other
loyalty. None! Is all that clear Peewee?"

He nodded. He also looked a bit shell-shocked.

"Go do your duty and report back to me please. I will be in my quarters."

About half an hour later there was a quiet knock on my door. I knew it had
to be Peewee and I was right. He told me he delivered my message and there
was a lot of embarrassed shuffling. Flagman-Penn was apparently irate and
questioned if I had no loyalty to Britain – after all I was
British. Peewee iterated I was Jalaqi, and what's more Jalaqi
royalty. Flagman-Penn apparently scoffed at tin pot rajahs and Peewee told
him the line stretched back 1600 years whereas it was Flagman-Penn's
grandfather who had been a blackleg leader received his peerage 40 years
previously. I told him to watch his mouth or he might find himself in
company with Malwarsi. I also let him know it was the FO that put you into
this position. That shut him up.

"They've all gone now, Your Excellency." Peewee wasn't being ironic. He was
respectful and nervous.

"OK Peewee. Enough of the `Your Excellency' shit. I wasn't angry at you,
just those stupid idiotic fucks in there. We are as we always were, got it?
Now get down here and let me play with your cock a bit. Oh, incidentally,
Flagman-Penn is never to attend a Jalaqi meeting again. He is not to step
foot inside our embassy."

"Oooo Fang, you haven't lost your touch on my cock – and you certainly
do play hard ball. This is a side of you I haven't seen before. Christ get
your tongue out of my hhnggg mffff..." The rest was lost in a muffled and
enthusiastic tongue battle.

The following day I received a courteous summons to attend the PM. He did
ask me about the previous day's mini fracas and I explained to him. He
appeared to be totally sympathetic and suggested to me that Flagman-Penn
might be happier in another ministry. I didn't comment.

I discovered later he had been transferred to Agriculture.

Happily, after a week or so, the fracas died down and I was able to resume
my more normal duties. The Yanks were gone, diplomatic feathers were
smoothed over and the northern tribes were handsomely rewarded.

This now gave me time to contact Mr. Wolfram. I was always mindful of being
spied on and Mr Wolfram himself was not stupid. We arranged to meet in an
Oxford pub. When I arrived, he passed me a note saying he would meet me in
another pub. I agreed, and we moved on. I noticed the telephone technicians
who were ostensibly working outside the pub quickly pack up. I noticed
Simpson, one of the FO's tape recorder and bug guys dressed as a telecom
tech. I was reasonably annoyed at this not unexpected intrusion. I walked
up to Simpson and told him I didn't know who was in charge of this circus,
but to fuck off and leave me to my lunch in peace. Wolfram and I had a
decent lunch in a pub beside the river and silently concluded our
transaction in the gents. Tim was now mine. I had a thick wad of paper
which purported to be all Tim's records, and on perusal they
were. Ostensibly there now was no record of Tim's existence in the UK. All
I had to do now was make him Jalaqi, an easy job for me.

The rest of my stay in the UK was reasonably peaceful. I did numerous visa
interviews and refused them all. We are a tiny country, but we have superb
intelligence services. The IS was how they got my original `Secret
Report'. All the visa applicants were journalists; an occupation they did
not disclose. They demanded almost en masse the reason for their refusal
and I very diplomatically called a press conference and explained that the
reason for the refusals was that major errors were found on each
application and this was automatic grounds for refusal. The errors could
not have been accidental. I indicated that since there had recently been an
emergency in Jalaqistan, any passport or visa application irregularities
had to be treated with the utmost caution. The penalty for such
irregularities was a lifetime ban from Jalaqistan.

"How's this going to look in the papers?" shouted one journalist.

"I am not a reporter or editor, so I don't know," I replied. "But I do know
of a magazine that is just dying to get their hands on a copy of your visa
applications and is willing to publish them in full."

Visa applications had name, birth date, address, phone number and like
information on them. Some of the journos were not particularly loved
people. So, this information made public would be disastrous for them. In
fact, some would probably need to leave the UK.

"You wouldn't dare!" shouted another reporter.  My tiny bodyguard bristled
at the tone. His right hand was on his sword and his left on a hidden
dagger. I hadn't known about the dagger. I learned later he could throw it
with unerring and deadly accuracy. I held him back.

I was very close to losing my temper. I leaned over the podium. I fixed
that person with a stare, and in a very quiet voice said, "Madam, I am
currently the Chief Diplomat and Ambassador of His Royal Highness the Nizam
of the Kingdom of Jalaqistan to Her Britannic Majesty the Queen of England
and you tell me I wouldn't dare. Let me tell you, madam that I will dare
anything. And also let me tell you madam you will not dare set foot in this
embassy or come within 200 metres of me, my family or my embassy staff. You
may leave now. She left, escorted by Security, amidst a stunned silence of
her fellow journalists.

A little while after this an application was made by a tall, pale, willowy
lad of about 19 or 20 who had occupation JOURNALISM STUDENT on his form. He
was also cute and a geographer and wanted to do a photo essay about
Jalaqistan as a final assignment. After a security clearance and a very
long interview I granted him a visa. I also decided he could come to
Jalaqistan with me in the diplomatic jet. He could sit in the passengers'
section which was very comfortable but completely separated by security
doors from the Jalaqi royalty section which was plain luxurious. It was
mainly a divan on wings. The galley was between the sections.

This lad's name was Paul Zane.

Paul was soft spoken, had liquid brown eyes and a smile to die for. He had
a certain exuberance which he appeared to keep under very tight control. He
let down his guard a little when I told him I had approved his visa. He
spontaneously gave me a hug and thanked me `profoundly'. (His word.) I put
the hug down to youth and student enthusiasm. I walked with him to the door
and my little bodyguard came bustling in. In Jalaqi he asked me what I had
done to the student to give him such a big hard on. I told him "nothing"
and he just went "hmmmm". I had to admit Paul was kinda attractive.

Tim was now Jalaqi and officially my "son". I asked Peewee to make sure the
path would be smooth and not too many questions asked about my "boy" and he
assured me there would be no problems. There weren't. A son of a diplomat
is accorded very high status by border control officials, almost as much as
his father.

A few days after granting Paul a visa, Ramez returned. He asked my
permission for a farewell shag with Tim which I was pleased to give. Tim
was pleased to give Ramez the fuck of his life. The noises I heard from the
bedroom were rather indicative of pleasure given and received. They did go
on for half the night, though. At one point I went for a piss and one of
the young servants was in the corridor. He had a smile and was tugging on
his hard-on as he listened. He bowed as I came into range.

"My bedroom's there." I pointed at my door. "Nobody's in my bed at the
moment. Would you like to be?" Ali was currently with Ramez and Tim.

"Oh yes lord, it would be an honour."

"Good. I'll pee, and I'll be there."

I did what I had to and came back.

He was naked in my bed. I started making out with him. He was totally
compliant. He could kiss like an angel. I knew he wouldn't be a stranger to
sex. After all he was a Jalaqi. He knew the moves, all right. However, I
didn't play rough like some Jalaqi men do. I was gentle with him and in
fact totally soft in my caressing and play. I coaxed out his orgasm at the
same time as mine, and he was blissed out.

He made moves to get out of bed, but I held him firm.

"You rest a bit. I will find the night supervisor and tell him you are
assisting me. There will be no trouble. Incidentally, what is your name?"

"Adit," was the answer.

"I'll protect you from the big, bad supervisor."

"Actually, he's very nice, my lord."

"OK. But I will tell him you are helping me out. I will also tell him you
are to be my personal servant when I come to the UK. Is that OK with you?

"Oh yes, my lord. There is always much rivalry among us servants as to who
will serve you. You honour me greatly. I am your slave to death, my
lord. We all love you very much, my lord. It was wonderful what you did for
Ali and Shiva."

I really thought that was past history and forgotten. Apparently not. It
was still part of my legend and people loved me for it. I was genuinely
surprised.

I found Aatish the supervisor and told him what was going on. I also told
him to hold the lad in reserve for my visits to the UK. Aatish laughed and
told me I had given Adit much status and he would be the envy of all the
other boys.

I hadn't thought much about the servants. They were just there. I didn't
know their names. I thought I had better fix that.

I went back to my bed and took some more time with Adit. The sex was gentle
and unhurried, and exceedingly pleasurable. I thought of my Shiva. I missed
him terribly. I still hadn't received a photo of my boys from him. I played
again with Adit.

The following morning, I ordered 20 fine gold chains. They cost me a bomb.

I called for all the servants to assemble in the divan and they did. There
were 15 teenagers. I asked them one by one what his name was, and when he
told me I affixed a gold chain around his neck. I told them this was just a
little gift from me for all the fine service they had given me and my
guests. When I had finished, I told them to scram. There was not a dry eye
among them. I started to leave the divan and a rustle behind me caused me
to turn around. Every one of them was on his knees and prostrating.  At
this point Ramez and Tim came in and I heard Ramez mutter, `Now what the
fuck's he done?'

I told the kids to get up and I walked along the line and gave every one of
them a kiss on the cheek. There wasn't a dry eye among the boys.

"Go you lazy lot," I shouted at them, pretending anger. "Get us some food
before we die..."

"What the hell was that all about?"

I told Ramez what had happened and how I had given the servants a gold
chain each.

"How the fuck do you manage it?"

I looked at him quizzically. "Manage what?"

"How do you manage it? You seem to do a small act to some kid and it
becomes a legend. How do you do it? For those boys, that chain binds you to
them and makes you their protector. Gold is quite rare in Jalaqistan, and
for you to give them gold is unbelievable. This will be a legend. It's
almost like a gold wedding band in the west. Jesus, how does he do it?" He
asked an invisible friend.

Food appeared, and we were beautifully served by boys without their
shirts. Baggy pants worn very low and no shirt, was so sexy. I was fighting
a hard-on.

I had five chains left over and I thought, Shiva, Ali, Tim, Ganesh, Aravan,
Chaitanya... oops I needed another chain. I got it and now all my boys
would sport golden chains.

All preparations were ready for our departure the next day. Paul would have
to go through whatever was necessary for a UK citizen to leave the
country. All our documents were bundled together with mine on top, ready
for inspection should airport officials require it. We were meant to be
leaving at midday. My party was essentially waved through without any
document checks which was just fine as it may have been a little tricky
with Tim, who now sported the Jalaqi name of Tarun, which meant young or
tender. It was also a Hindi name. When he was asked his name by a friendly
Indian immigration guy, he asked me in Jalaqi what the guy said. I told him
in Jalaqi while hiding a smile. When he told the guy his name, the chap
gave me an enigmatic look and said he was indeed a fine, young man. I duly
translated this into Jalaqi and we moved on. I didn't know who did or did
not understand our language, so I said no chattering until we are in the
plane.  We were all in national dress and looked great, if somewhat varied
in skin hue. Fortunately, Tim, or Tarun was sufficiently tanned to pass for
a light skinned Jalaqi and so, happily, was I, even though this was not
necessary in my case.

We boarded the plane, made ourselves comfortable and waited for take-off. A
minor fracas ensued as Paul tried to board. I wandered up from my seat to
the embarkation point. I saw Paul looking red-faced and furiously pointing
to his passport, presumably at his visa.

The immigration official was holding forth. "I can't bloody well read those
squiggles. Heathen writing, that's what it is..."

"Oh Christ," I thought, "What century did they dig this one up from?"

Paul saw me arrive. "Yeah, and perhaps you would like to explain that to
His Excellency, and indeed Highness, Ambassador Jalaqi, who is standing
right behind you.

The immigration guy swung around. I'd heard of people going dead white but
had never seen it. I had now seen it. A small gathering of immigration
officers had gathered and were obviously waiting for this scene to crash
and burn.

"My guest is getting on my plane now, heathen squiggles or not, or you
shall receive a DCM in an hour."

 Paul's passport was duly stamped, and he trotted onto the plane.

"I suggest," I said to the immigration guy, "If you don't understand
something, you find someone who does and you won't find yourself in the
embarrassing state of having to change your pants." The poor bugger had
slightly peed himself. The stain was very apparent on his light khaki
uniform. I turned and left. The gales of laughter could only have
multiplied the guy's embarrassment.

When I boarded the plane again, I noted that Paul was comfortably
ensconced. I told him I would come and have a chat with him after we took
off. He gave me a smile and nod of thanks. Secondly, when I went to take my
place in the divan, I was served a standard fruit juice by none other than
Adit.

"Adit, what are you doing here?"

"Aatish told me I was to serve you when on diplomatic service, and you are
returning home from service and that counts. So, he organised with Lord
Ramez for me to be cabin crew on this trip. I shall always be cabin crew
when you are flying. Do you approve, Lord Drek?"

Two things occurred to me. One was I had fallen for Adit in a different way
to Shiva and Ali, and secondly, I had to find a Jalaqi name, as `Drek' was
just too close to the German word for `rubbish'.

I had heard of the name `Daarun' which meant `hard man' but I thought that
might be a bit of unwarranted bragging. I just wasn't sure. I would check
with Ramez and Shiva, and maybe Adit. There was also an official registrar
of births and deaths I might have to talk to. So, my new Jalaqi name went
on the back burner.

I thought how I had best see to my guest. He was happily drinking down a
very large whiskey.

He was comfortable and had been well attended to by Adit.

"All's well?" I asked.

"Yep. All's very well," was his exuberant reply. "Adit has been very
attentive."

I raised an inquisitive eyebrow and smiled. Most likely I leered. There
seemed to be a touch of embarrassment happening to my guest. He went beet
red.

"Don't worry about anything that might happen. We are very open-minded
here. I will tell Adit to make up a double bed for you tonight. Ask Adit to
join you if you want. I'm sure he would be delighted."

I had never seen eyebrows shoot up so fast, nor eyes widen so quickly. It
was worth giving him the thumbs up on Adit just to see the almost comical
facial phenomenon.

I told Adit what I had done. He gave me a very broad smile. I asked him to
make my guest happy and he laughed.

"That will be very easy, sir," he responded. "He's already been looking at
me in that way. I have also looked at him in that way."

I laughed and told Adit he was very naughty, and also a very good fuck.

We flew through the night.

When we arrived in Jalaqistan, there were seemingly hundreds of people
there to greet us. My boys were at the small airport and Shiva, Ganesh,
Aravan and Chaitanya came up to greet me with hugs, kisses and then
prostrations on the ground. I gave each boy a golden chain, and suddenly
the whole airport went quiet. Everyone was staring at us. The atmosphere
appeared tense. I heard little Ali draw his sword. All my boys were on
their knees again. Ali had managed to get Paul back behind me and fixed him
with a stare that said, `don't move.'

Shiva slowly stood up. He punched the air above his head and shouted,
RAMATBA! RAMATBA! Suddenly the whole airport erupted with the cheer
`RAMATBA! RAMATBA!

Again, we made an almost royal progress to my home. Ali was beside me with
drawn sword. Paul had been ensconced in his own wagon, but some kids had
been rounded up to sit with him. We arrived at the gates to my home. I
asked my driver to stop. After a quick whispered conversation with Shiva, I
stood up and faced the crowds and in near perfect Jalaqi I asked everyone
to please excuse me as I was very tired, but everyone was to come in and
eat and drink until they were full.

The crowd erupted with calls of RAMATBA! I waved to everyone and moved to
go inside. On my way in someone called out a rude and humorous comment
about my cock and how could I possibly please a house full of boys with a
white, soggy noodle. (White noodles are part of the Jalaqi diet and are
made from barley flour.)

A hush fell over the crowd. They waited to see if I would see the humour. I
was still reasonably unknown territory to them.

I stopped dead. I turned around pointed to the guy I thought my tormentor
was and told Ali to bring him to me. Ali scampered off and dragged the
joker to me. When he got to me, he was on his knees, but I pulled him up to
his feet immediately, grabbed him around the waist, danced a little jig
with him, felt his tool and gave an arm signal to the crowd indicating a
wet noodle. I grabbed my crotch and gave the universal arm signal for a big
strong hard-on. Everyone was belly-laughing and I gave the joker a hug and
sent him back to the food.

I roared, "Anyone else to take me on." At that moment a, my guess would be
a 5 or 6-year-old tiny, raced up and hugged me by my leg.

"Me too, ramatba, me too." The little tyke squeaked.

An embarrassed mother came chasing after her tiny runaway.

I had to laugh.

"Of course, Tiger, of course. We can't leave you out."

I picked him up, threw him in the air, and gave him a kiss on the nose and
he ran off giggling and shouting, "Ramatba called me Tiger. That is my new
name. Everyone must call me Tiger. Ramatba called me Tiger..." Indeed, that
did become his nickname to the point where it was likely only his mother,
father (and possibly the registrar of births, whose memory for names was
positively encyclopaedic,) knew his real name.

I finally managed to get inside my house. The crowd happily munched on.

Paul did not know what was happening. He was obviously out of his depth. I
told Shiva to grab him and bring him into the house. I invited the lad to
sit down.

"OK Paul," I started, "My guess is you didn't organise accommodation and
you are at a bit of a loss."

He nodded in agreement.

"Tonight, you can stay here, and I will have accommodation organised for
you tomorrow. Would you like to stay with Adit and his family?"

Paul nodded and had a rather sheepish smile on his face. I took that as a
yes. I laughed and slapped him on the back and told him it would be all
fixed tomorrow. Further, if I wasn't mistaken, he might have a visit this
evening. I rather thought my Adit was somewhat taken with Paul.

Unsurprisingly Adit turned up about an hour or so later and very politely
asked if he might visit with Paul. I naturally agreed and invited him to
stay the night if that is what they both wanted. I was surprised that Adit
had some quite fluent if somewhat broken English. Another surprise was that
Adit arrived with a very small carbon copy of himself.

Adit introduced his brother. "This is Krish..." He didn't get any
further. The little tacker interrupted. He went down on his knees and his
head touched the floor.

"My name is Tiger, ramatba. You named me. I am unworthy, but I am here for
your pleasure if you desire."

I was suddenly taken aback by Tiger's presence and little speech. I looked
at Adit with a question in my eyes. He smiled and nodded slightly. I told
Shiva to organise a bed and food for Paul and Adit for the evening. I also
asked that he check with Adit's family for Paul to be accommodated. He was
to ask the price and not haggle. He grumped at this, as haggling was in his
blood. I had a feeling this was an order which would not be obeyed. A short
time later I found out this was so. I would of course pay for his board.

I returned my attention to Tiger. I picked him up and nuzzled him in the
naval. He giggled. I took him to the closest divan and we lay down
together. I ran my hands over his cute, soft but firm, boy body and enjoyed
every second of it, as well as every millimetre. He had a substantial dick
which I sucked. He was erect in no seconds flat and his helmet peeked
through his foreskin.

"You can take me now, Ramatba," squeaked the little scrap. "Please do it."

"I think you may be just a bit small, yet, Tiger," I courteously said.

"Oh no, Ramatba," was the very deferential reply. "I really want you to be
my first. I really love you, my lord. I really do, you know."

"My little man," I said to him "My bodyguard needs a companion, and you
shall be it. As such you will be a member of my staff. I also want you to
be circumcised like Ali. Before we do anything more together, I want you
cut and looking like Ali. Do you understand?"

He bowed a little and replied, "Yes, lord."

I asked Shiva to organise the circumcision. It was to be the next day.

Shortly after Shiva left, Ali sidled up to me and said, "Baba."

Speaking Jalaqi I responded with, "Yes mate."

"Um, can we have a party for Tiger tomorrow, please?"

"Er, why?"

"He's getting cut for you and that will make him yours, like me, and we
should invite his family and His Highness, Lord Ramez, and everyone else
– and even His Royal Highness, the Nizam."

There was certainly one thing about my little Ali. He knew how to think
big; and, how to drop me in it.

I thought a party like that would take more than a day to organise and said
so to Ali. He scratched his head.

"Maybe three days then?" he asked quizzically.

"OK then, we'll give it three days to organise and have the party on the
fourth day. It will also give him a little bit of time to heal."

"Oh yeah. I didn't think of that. I shall write the invitation to His Royal
Highness," my little Ali declared and scampered off. I wondered what it
would be like. For that matter, I didn't even know if he could write
fluently. I shortly found out.

Ali had made himself perfectly at home in my office. He had used very heavy
paper which was only for important documents. He had used his own pen and
nib, as well as his own very expensive ink, made from some black substance,
but with flecks of gold in it. Not only could he read and write, he was
also a calligrapher. I had no idea he was so accomplished and at such a
young age.

A couple of hours later he presented the completed document to me for
inspection. The wording was perfect. It was written in the very formal form
of Jalaqi reserved for very special occasions or when addressing a member
of the royal family.

Just to add to this perfection, little Ali had used a style of penmanship
called nastaliqh, which made the document look as if the writing was gold
flecked water flowing down the page. It was a total work of art.

"Are you happy with that, baba?" asked little Ali.

"Little one," I replied, "That is more beautiful than anything I have ever
seen. It is exquisite. Exquisite! But you haven't signed it."

"Oh baba, I can't. It is your invitation."

"You can and you will. You can sign it, Ali son of Drake, by his request
wrote this. Will you do that please."

Ali had tears in his eyes. "Yes baba, I will..."

"Oh and Ali, I want your name written as large as my name... understand."

I had a feeling he was going to write his name small and my name large. I
really wanted HH to know who had written the letter. I really did not want
Ali to be overlooked.

The letter was duly delivered by courier and I shortly received a summons
from the palace. I was hoping that I hadn't overstepped the boundaries of
propriety with the invite.

I entered the Nizam's divan and prostrated. Little Ali, who would never
leave my side did likewise. His highness dismissed his servants and
bodyguards. When the sergeant objected, His Highness said that he still had
one bodyguard left, and he indicated Ali. The sergeant laughed and Ali
almost burst with pride.

"Be careful Drake, or I might steal him from you," said the Nizam.

"Oh sir, please never do that as I would feel totally naked without
him. Who would look after me like he does? He is the fiercest warrior in
all Jalaqistan."

My little Ali forgot himself for a moment and leapt up and hung onto my
neck and gave me the biggest kiss he could.

"Ali, remember where you are," I whispered.

Just as suddenly he was on his face on the floor stammering out apologies.

The Nizam just laughed at him and said that he should be very proud of his
ramatba, because he knew his ramatba was very proud of him.

Ali looked at me with so much adoration in his eyes, I almost cried.

The Nizam continued. "Ali, you have only been with Drake for a short time
but have become totally invaluable to him. I know your loyalty is
boundless. I know you have given yourself to him totally and without
complaint. You are now eleven years of age and you are old enough to make a
choice. You are permitted now to go back to your people or remain as an
adopted son of Drake."

Ali interrupted, an unheard-of discourtesy.

"I will never leave Ramatba. Never!"

He suddenly realised what he had done. A look of horror crossed his face
and he totally prone and stammering out his apologies again.

The Nizam all but laughed out loud.

"Well that solves that order of business. Next is to find you a Jalaqi
name. I really have given this a lot of thought. You can of course accept
or reject the name. I was thinking of the name Deepak. It means
`inflaming', or `exciting'. It is also the name of Kama, the god of
love. Anyway, I'll just leave that for you to think about and you can tell
me at Tiger's party. Incidentally, the custom is for me to sit on the
ground with everyone else except our little guest of honour. He will have a
special dais and table raised a little and be sat on a cushion. Further,
the calligraphy of your invitation was beyond superb. With your permission,
Drake, I may have need of your calligrapher to write some papers for
me. However, that's in the future." He waved his hand in a "that's in the
future" gesture. Ali almost burst with pride.

I smiled at the Nizam.

"Of course Your Royal Highness," I replied. "But you may not keep him sir,
as he is mine and only mine."

I smiled and HRH smiled back at me.

"That almost goes without saying," he replied to me in English. The little
fellow grabbed me by the arm and whispered to me that he loved HRH, but he
loved me more, and please not to give him to the Nizam.

HRH gave me a small, almost imperceptible smile and a sly wink.

"How could I possibly give one of my most precious jewels away to anyone?
Not possible," I whispered to him. He let out a sudden and heart wrenching
wail and crawled on my lap. This also was not quite protocol. HRH smiled at
me and with a bow I got up to leave. Ali was glued to me. HRH gave me a
gentle, back of the hand wave dismissal. I smiled at my friend and not so
decorously left. Ali was glued to me and still sobbing.

We finally got back to my house. I had also managed to jettison Ali onto
his own two feet. I thought he was really getting heavy, or in other words,
growing up.

The party was terrific. The boys made little Tiger feel like a king. He was
waited on hand and foot, not unlike the Nizam. My boys made a little throne
for him and decorated it with flowers. Likewise they made a crown of
flowers. The boys also managed to get me and the Nizam quite drunk on
easily potable Jalaqi wine. Other guests arrived uninvited, but my Shiva
had this under control.

Apparently, anyone who had anything to do with me at all and this included
my crazy, limp-noodled dance partner, could come to the party and would be
fed and wined. I could see my household budget going through the roof, but
then I thought, "Fuck it! I can afford it." I lied back and thought of my
good fortune.

I was part of the Royal Family. I had three gorgeous sons, Shiva, Ali and
Tim who was now called Terun. I was wealthy by British and Jalaqi
standards. My life was good. Indeed, beyond good.

I noticed HH had spoken to each of Chaitanya, Ganesh and Aravan. He also
talked for a while to the Tiger. All the boys seemed quite happy after
their chat. That night I took the little Tiger to bed and shagged him. He
was very tight, but he bore my penetration with fortitude, or so I
thought. I knew Jalaqi boys are taught from a very early age how to use
their arse for maximum pleasure, both for their partner and themselves.

I filled Tiger with plenty of cum and totally made him mine for a
while. His little, now cut, cock stood up proudly. He was pleased to
display it to anyone who asked (and to some who didn't) and let them know
he was Ali's brother, and a bodyguard of Ramatba.

At the New Year celebrations (which occurred in March), the boys dragged me
along to a fusty, old office building which contained literally thousands
of folded files neatly labelled by Jalaqi year in old metallic bookcases.
I was in the office of the birth registrar. It was a beautiful sunny day. I
had been here a few times, mostly as a witness to attest to the birth of a
new baby to a family. I guessed I was here for that reason. I had noticed a
large marquee at the back of the building, overlooking a beautiful river
down to which flowed an immaculately green meadow. I was the perfect place
for a picnic after a naming ceremony.

I had had an extremely busy two weeks getting the end-of-year reports
etc. finalised. I had left everything non-essential in Shiva's more than
capable hands, including, obviously, my invitation to this naming.

The sweet fragrance of incense was in the air. As we all walked into the
naming room, cymbals clashed and long trumpets sounded. (I had never
understood how babies managed to sleep through this racket – it was
meant to scare off demons, among other things. I had never seen a baby wake
up or cry. The old registrar started the long incantation that led up to a
naming. It was in the old language which I didn't understand very well at
all. Suddenly I was pulled up short. Through the tumble of barely
comprehensible words I heard Drek Feelan. Through a little more incantation
I heard Deepak Jalaqi and then a gong was struck. I wasn't sure what
happened, but I thought I had just been renamed.

The old registrar just looked at me and beamed. I folded my hands and made
deep obeisance to the old man and he smiled beneficently. Chaitanya,
Aravan, Ganesh and Tiger lined up in front of me and went down on their
knees, and their eyes downcast. In unison they said; "Ramatba, we worship
you and love you. Would you please be our official father?"

The three big ones added, "We are orphans and you are our father and
mother."

Tiger then added, "My parents will be proud if you would take me, as you
are a hero in all of Jalaqistan."

I was totally overcome and my tears flowed freely. I knew the kids were
orphans and I simply assumed their relatives lived in the town and the lads
sometimes visited them. Now they were asking me to officially become their
parent. The office had become silently crowded.

I had noticed this on several occasions that a room could suddenly become
filled with people so silently, it almost seemed like magic.

Shiva led an older couple up to me. They were Tiger's parents. The father
spoke.

"Lord Deepak, we would be so honoured if you would accept our son Krishna
also called Tiger as your son. We would be honoured beyond being
honoured. We believe you to be a male aspect of Shashthi. Will you please
take our son?"

Of course I said yes. At this point Shiva took my right hand, passed it
over a flame and placed it on Chaitanya's head. He then told me to simply
say "Yes, you are my son." This was done for each boy and there was not a
single dry eye among them. To the accompaniment of trumpets and cymbals I
had adopted four more boys.

The old registrar was beaming. He then produced a number of documents
written in beautiful calligraphy, nastaliqh.

I hadn't seen Ali around the house very much over the past few days. My
needs had been met by the other kids so I was not backed up in the balls
department. I had occasionally asked about the little fellow's whereabouts
and each time was given some excuse by Shiva. I swallowed their excuses
hook, line and sinker so didn't think much about it. Secondly, I really was
busy, working 14 hour days.

I subsequently discovered he had been at the Nizam's palace writing our
adoption and naming papers. I also discovered the Nizam had officially
sealed each document. This almost gave them the status of Holy Writ.

Suddenly cymbals, gongs and trumpets sounded. The crowd parted and His
Royal Highness appeared, dressed simply in a white wrap around garment.

We all prostrated in front of him and he grabbed me by the hand.

"Today, you have become a total complete Jalaqi and you shall forever be
so. You are a full prince of our country, and your children are also
princes. The only person senior to you is my nephew Ramez. You are now his
brother. When I die he will be the Nizam. Should he die, you will be the
Nizam. This is my Imperial Decree!"

This really was the law of Jalaqistan now. I had heard of Imperial
Decrees. They were extremely rare and were considered sacred.

My head was spinning. I felt very pale and almost fainted. Shiva, Ali and
Tiger rallied next to me and stopped me disgracing myself. The Nizam turned
and marched out. My little tribe surrounded me. Their chests puffed out
with pride and their eyes moist with emotion.

I hadn't failed to notice the deference with which I was treated by the
folk gathered around. After all I was royalty now, not just simply `Drek'.

We were now out in the picnic area. It was truly lovely. In true to form
Jalaqi style there was food and drink for everyone. I had to make a
speech. I was still a bit self-conscious of my ability, but it had to be
done.

I started, "My friends, Today something great happened to me I became
totally one with you. My blood is now your blood and your blood is now
mine. I know no country but Jalaqistan and..."

At that moment I saw a metallic glint across the river, and I jumped in
front of the Nizam and simultaneously pushed my kids onto their
faces. Everything went black. My next memory is waking up in a totally
white room with a tiny bundle next to me. I had been shot. But I was the
only casualty. The Nizam was safe as were my boys. The little sleeping
bundle next to me was Ali. Tiger was wide awake in a chair opposite. When
he saw me open my eyes, he burst into tears. This woke Ali who also burst
into tears. I was surrounded by two boys and it seemed what the bullet
hadn't done they were determined to do by pure love. The loving was
welcome, but it hurt.

Tiger shot out the door and alerted the medical staff that I was awake. A
nurse and a doctor came bustling in. They looked at the machines to which I
was attached, and pronounced me out of danger.

"What happened?" I asked. "Is the Nizam OK?"

"The Nizam is fine, thanks to you, and it appears a US sniper tried to take
out the Nizam. You collected the shot. We don't really know what happened,
but all that was left of him was an arm and his rifle and uniform
sleeve. Very sad."

"I guess it was a tiger or snow leopard, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess..." said the medic.

We both knew, without a doubt, the Nizam's bodyguard had caught the sniper
and dealt with him "while he was trying to escape".

"Where am I?" Again I asked.

"You're in our infirmary. We have the best infirmary in the hills. We have
two doctors and five nurses and not much work to do. Scrapes and scratches
mostly. Yours was the first minor op in months. The other guy and I were
fighting over who would do it. While we were arguing, a knife flew between
us and stuck in the wall. A voice said `Decide! Or I will decide for you!'
He was hefting another knife. This kid wasn't joking around."

"Ali," I said. "My little bodyguard."

The doctor said, "He's a Qazani, isn't he?"

I nodded.

"You don't mess with Qazanis," he added. "Did you know there are two
Qazanis outside your door and they haven't slept for 30 hours?"

"Send them in please."

He did and they came in. Christ they were gorgeous men.

They made deep obeisances and called me `Your Highness'.

"I want you to find four more men to relieve you. You will then sleep for
eight hours and the others can sleep. Then you will change again. Please do
not forget I always have a Qazani bodyguard, assisted by a Jalaqi
bodyguard."

"I will be perfectly protected by them. However I do appreciate you helping
them."

Ali and Tiger preened.

"As for you two," I pointed at my two little bodyguards, "How can you
possibly work well with no sleep?" You will go home and get some rest."

"We won't!" This was Ali. He was totally defiant. I had seen the look when
he defied Ramez. "You need us HERE!"

Ali raced outside the room. A few minutes later another bed was rolled into
the room and parked right next to my bed.

Ali stuck his head up from behind the bed and said that when I needed sex
he and Tiger would be ready. Also my other sons (his brothers) wanted to
visit.

"Was I feeling OK? Did my lingam (dick) need servicing? Did I need a drink
of water, or milk, or whiskey? Did I need something to eat? Would I like to
take his or Tiger's gahn (arse)?"

All these kind offers I courteously turned down and drifted off to sleep.

I woke quite early the next morning and two deep blue eyes were looking at
me. It was of course Tim, now Terun my number... `Shit,' I thought, `I've
lost count'. Well, my son, anyway. I tried to clear my head.

"Let me see," I thought. "There's my beloved Shiva, and Ali. There's
Chaitanya, and Ganesh and Aravan. Then there's Tiger and Terun... I think
that's the lot." I managed everyone's name ok, but I lost count of how many
there were. The pain killers were playing merry-hell with my thinking
processes.

I pressed my buzzer and two nurses and a doctor appeared very quickly.

"Yes, Your Highness," the doctor asked.

I explained about my fuzzy brain.

"Yes, Lord. The Nizam insisted we make sure you suffer no pain. You are on
a high dose of opioids and it will make you a little fuzzy." He used the
English word fuzzy as there was no exact Jalaqi word.

"Stop the pills then. If I have pain I will ask. Also I can't count how
many sons I have. I feel really strange. I can get everyone's names, but I
can't get the numbers."

"If it will help, Lord, there are five boys waiting outside saying they are
your sons and two in here. That makes seven, sir."

At this point Ali gave him a withering look, fingered his knife for no
apparent reason and the doctor took a step back.

"Ali, leave the doctor alone!" I was firm.

"Yes, Ramatb..."

"Ali!"

"Yes, baba."

He sat down, a little sulkily I thought.

"May I see my sons, please," I asked the doc.

"I really need you to rest, Your Highness."

"My children will be the best medicine. They give me injections of
love... again, the best medicine."

"But Lord..." The doctor was about to argue.

Ali interrupted. "His Highness just made a request." Ali fingered his knife
meaningfully.

The doctor backed out quickly and his place was taken by a horde of my
boys. All seven of my lads were there and each gave me gentle kiss. The
last was Shiva who gave me his tongue with his lips. Apparently this sent a
warning to the nurses' station, as their monitor told them my heart rate
went zooming. I had to let them know it was ok; I was just being loved and
taken care of by my boys.

The nurses retreated. A doctor was back within minutes. He was red-faced
and obviously a bit panicked.

"His Royal Highness is here and wants to see you."

"He's not waiting, is he?"

"I did ask him to kindly wait a moment."

"Request for him to come immediately, please."

"Bloody idiot," I muttered to myself.

The doctor obviously heard me as he scuttled out.

"I'm sorry, Lord."

"Don't apologise to me, apologise to the Nizam."

The medic was gone.

The Nizam came in without any fanfare. I tried to move, but my shoulder and
arm wouldn't let me.

"Don't move, Deepak. The doctor has told me you don't want any more pain
medicine. But please, for me take some at night so you can get a good
sleep."

"Yes Your Highness," I replied deferentially.

"Good," he replied. "Now to business." He spoke English now. An attempted
assassination has been made on me. Or apparently so.  The Qazanis are sure
the bullet was meant for me, but you took it instead. All surrounding
nations have been made aware of this, as well as the British. The British
are not pleased. All access has been denied to foreigners coming near our
borders;

"Your friend Paul Zane has written an article for the British press which
has been published worldwide. I read it before he sent it and I
approved. He might be a journalism student, but he writes like a seasoned
reporter. His photo of you jumping in front of me was perfect;

"Since you have become a Jalaqi you have not put a foot wrong. You speak
and read and write our language. You have adopted seven Jalaqi boys and I
include Tarun. You have honoured the youngsters beyond belief. You punish
wrongdoers appropriately." (At this juncture he scowled at Ali, then
laughed.) You have brought love and more love to our, now your, people and
you have saved our life. I can only say `thank you' my friend. As a token
of my gratitude I can only offer you this inadequate gift."

He took a ribbon from around his neck from which a gold medallion hung. He
slipped back into Jalaqi. "I invest you with the emblem of the golden
lion. You have the total freedom of Jalaqistan including my palace and the
privilege of immediate audience with me, even if I am talking to the Queen
of England." Then in softly whispered English, "Even Ramez doesn't have
this."

"You just about have the status of a demi-god. People will ask for your
blessing, so just touch them. People think you are a male incarnation of
Shashthi, protector of children. I will see you soon, my friend. Very
soon."  With that, he left.

After another couple of days in the clinic I was climbing the walls to get
out. Finally the doctors and nurses let me go. My shoulder was a little
stiff but I managed just fine. A litter was waiting for me carried on the
shoulders of eight big men. Ali and Tiger leapt into the litter with me and
we jogged home. I had never been in a litter before and I was a bit
uncertain. It was like a hammock and I am not real good at maintaining
myself in one of them.

I was carried a short distance from the infirmary through the gates of the
tiny hospital. As my litter appeared a cheer erupted from the people
gathered there.

There were people as far as I could see lining the way. It wasn't a road as
such, but it was a pathway. It was simply full of people who fell on their
knees as I was carried past. I couldn't help but have tears in my eyes from
the outpouring of love. To a person, they fell on their knees still
cheering. They threw flowers and flower petals in my path. Parents lifted
children to see me. I called out that all children who could were to come
to my home the next day and I would see them.

This caused a ripple of conversation along the pathway. Apparently my
litter-bearers were totally professional and the gentle swaying rocked me
to sleep.

We finally made it home. My guess was it was about an hour or more and I
stepped out. I was a bit wobbly and was instantly supported by seven
sons. The kids took me to my bed and I was immediately asleep. It was so
good to be home.

I slept the night through and woke up at about six the following morning. I
really needed to pee. I was surrounded by naked boys, all seven of them,
but I still needed to pee. I tried to get up without waking any of them but
of course it was an exercise in futility. Ali and Tiger were both instantly
awake, and accompanied me to the lavatory. I loved having them with me, and
we all pissed together. There is something deliciously fun pissing with
your boys. Maybe I'm just a little kinky.

My shoulder was still quite sore. I could just use my hand but I was
unsteady and couldn't write fluently. There was no way I could answer the
mountain of correspondence that had accumulated over my absence.

I bathed, or rather, was bathed by my lads. Each boy carefully washed a
part of me with such gentleness I felt I might be delicate porcelain.

"Come on lads," I told them, "Give me a good scrubbing.  I won't break, you
know."

The kids got to and gave me a good scrubbing. They were careful of the now
small dressing on my shoulder. They attended to my cock and balls with more
than loving care. For the first time in days I was up and ready to go.

Each of the boys got a hug and a bit of a fiddle from me, then we were out
of the bath. It seemed my Shiva had matured more than a little since I had
been with him. He had the beginnings of some fuzz above his beautiful
appendage. I was impressed.

I took hold of his now rampant member and whispered, "Wow, my little boy is
growing up."

Tears filled his eyes and he replied, "Now I'm no longer a boy, you won't
love me anymore."

I was genuinely shocked.

"Get out of the bath and let's have a private moment."

I duly got out with the help of seven pairs of hands, was wrapped in a robe
which just sucked the water off me, and Shiva did the same. The other kids
jumped back in the bath and frolicked around. By some unspoken sense they
knew this was a private time for Shiva and me.

I undid his robe. I pushed it off his shoulders and it fell in a silken
puddle on the floor. I looked at my boy's naked body. His cock was flaccid
and he looked beautiful. His muscles were developing nicely and his flat
tummy was becoming a nice six pack. I walked around him and looked at his
delicious arse.

"Shiva, you are beautiful," I said in the most lyrical Jalaqi I could
manage. Tears formed in his eyes. "However, my son, you are at an age when
you can decide whether you want to be with me or not. If you don't want to
share my bed any more, you can make that decision. However, you will
always, and I mean always, be my eldest son, and I will always love
you. Always. Do you understand, my son?"

"Yes baba, I understand."

"Well, what do you want?"

Emotion shook his voice. "Ramatba, from the moment we were first together,
I fell in love with you. I have never fallen out of love with you. I will
do whatever you wish. If you do not want me in your bed, I will
understand. But I will serve you and love you to my dying day. I will not
leave you."

Big tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Shiva, I love you and I want you to be with me in my bed and mostly as my
son to my dying day. I like your little bit of bush so let's make love. I
want to nuzzle in it."

I used the English word nuzzle, and he looked at me curiously. `Nuzzle' I
repeated, and knelt in front of my boy and rubbed my nose in his tiny bit
of bush. `Nuzzle'.

My boy giggled and said `chozeh'.

I repeated `chozeh' and put word to action. My son giggled some more and I
pushed his foreskin back with my lips. I sucked on his cock a little and
suddenly my compliant little Shiva was a tiger. He pulled me off himself
and thrust his tongue in my mouth. A battle royal ensued and he forced my
very hard dick into his welcoming boy cunt.

"Fuck me hard, baba, fuck me hard."

This was new. He was thrusting up towards me and forcing my dick to do what
he wanted. I sensed his urgency and fucked him hard. He was releasing all
his passion and love at once. He needed reassurance, and the harder I
thrust into him the more relaxed he seem to be. I came in great spurts and
I felt we could get no closer than we were at that moment. I was still
ready for more as I hadn't gone down. I was still in him.

At this point we made slow and beautiful love. It was a calm after the
storm and it was one of the best lovemaking sessions I had ever had.

He came and then I did. As we cuddled together I whispered to him you are
totally mine. Now I want you to make me totally yours.

"You mean..."

"Yes, my little boy, I want you inside me and make love to me...I want your
juice in me. Please do it. Not because I ask you, but because you want
to..."

"Ramatba!" he sighed with a quiet sob. "I want to more than you would
know."

We cuddled together. We kissed. He took the lead with his tongue, his lips,
and his hands. I was his to do with what he wanted. Whatever he wanted was
exactly what I wanted.

He moistened my arse with his tongue and thrust a little inside me. Next he
inserted a finger then two. He then nuzzled my sparse bush and he kissed
his way up to my lips. He used every ounce of technique he knew on my
naval, my tits and my lips. His tongue tickled my ears and he kissed my
neck. Back to my lips he then asked the question with his eyes and I nodded
yes. I was blissed out by his foreplay, then suddenly he was in me. He was
gentle with his thrusting, and all I could do was just hold him to me
tightly, hoping my love I felt would pour in to him.

We were both getting near the end as the urgency of his thrusts became more
apparent. His body became rigid as did mine and we came together. I could
feel his spurts in my arse and my spurts glued us together.

"Ramatba, I love you so much. My life is now in you. We are one."

"Yes my Shiva...  I really hope that fixes your doubts. You are mine and I
am yours."

"Baba, this will have to happen with my brothers too, won't it."

"Do you want it to happen, son?"

He looked at me as if I had sprouted another head.

"Yes of course. They are my brothers."

I suddenly totally understood the bond between my boys. It was tighter than
blood. The love was almost palpable. Strangely enough, I could feel all
seven of my kids loving me at that moment.

"C'mon boys, come on in," I shouted.

Suddenly I was surrounded by a posse of six naked kids; all wanting to love
me with cuddles and kisses.

"Be careful of baba's wound," shouted little Ali whose wee, hard dick was
just within fiddling distance.

One thing about Qazanis is their sexual stamina. The Jalaqis weren't far
behind, if at all.

After about a month, I was back to normal. Shiva was pretty much a
permanent fixture in my bed, along with Ali and Tiger. They were almost
literally my shadows. It took me a while to convince Ali he was not at
fault for me getting shot. I told him he was too short to protect my
shoulder. I also told him the other bodyguards of the Nizam hadn't seen the
shooter either, and they were much bigger than he was. I also told him next
time I was to be shot, he could take the bullet instead. This seemed to
mollify him for a little while; then he asked me how I would know when I
was going to be shot. I told him that was his job along with loving me. I
then took him to my bed and we had the best sex ever I had had with wee
Ali.

At one stage I gathered all my boys together in my divan. It was a solemn
meeting, as this sort of thing rarely happened. Aravan, Ganesh, Chaitanya,
Tarun, Ali and Tiger all looked at me as if I was about to give them bad
news. I wasn't. I told them that they were truly my sons, and that meant
forever. I told them that as they were growing up, they had the choice of
gracing my bed or not. I also told them that when they started to get a
bush and no longer had little boy cocks (they giggled at that) it was their
decision to have sex or not. It was totally their choice and I would love
them totally, whatever the decision might be. They knew our sex together
made them mine, but it was up to them if they wanted to make me theirs.

As one, their foreheads were on the floor. Terun surprisingly led them into
loud cheers of "Ramatba, Ramatba".  And I knew. They were mine and I was to
be theirs. No one would break this bond. Ever. I was truly home.

The End.

Other stories by John Mathews:

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/hey-karl

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/flat-next-door

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/aj

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/the-apennine-boys-school/