USUAL DISCLAIMER

"THE BLACK CLOVER" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest.

THE BLACK CLOVER by Andrej Koymasky © 2018
written on 3rd of April, 1986
Translated by the Author
English text kindly revised by an Australian friend
CHAPTER 17

HAA

When Malik returned to the Palace, I talked with him. I said that it was very unlikely he could win the love of Iskandar while the boy remained a slave. In my opinion he had to resign himself to it - the boy would not change his mind... The prince immediately looked at me with luminous eyes and said:

"Of course! I understand now! I will give him his freedom."

"But if you free him, the boy will certainly go back to his own land and so you will lose him."

"I cannot do otherwise. I did not understand before, how stupid I was! Yes, the idea of losing him hurts me, but I prefer to lose him rather than to have him against his will or to have him at my side without really having him."

"But possibly, if he remains here with you, little by little he may even change his mind..."

"No, Nadim. Thank you. Probably it is the will of Allah that I lose the first person with whom I really fell in love. One day perhaps I will find someone who would be able to love me... Possibly, if we had met in different conditions... Ha, who knows? But continually saying 'perhaps' is not reasonable, is it not so?"

"So it is. I am really sorry for you, Malik. I hoped you finally could know the joy of loving and being loved."

"As for the joy of loving, I have begun to know it, it seems."

"But it does not seem so much of a joy, in your case."

"Yes, it is, all things considered. I can give back his freedom to the person I love. Even if I lose him, at least I have done something to make him happy."

I admired Malik very much, but I was sad for his misfortune. I would have liked to have been able to do something for him, but I did not know what.

Malik went immediately to see the boy he loved: "Iskandar, I free you. You are no more a slave. From now on, you are a free man."

"Free? You mean I can go? I can go back to my people?"

"If this is what you desire."

"Why do you free me? Are you no longer interested in me?"

"On the contrary, I will always be in love with you."

"Then I do not understand: if you free me you will lose me!"

"I never had you, in reality. As a master I have your body, not the whole of you. Your heart and your soul, unhappily, are strangers to me."

"But where can I go? I am a foreigner, I have no money, my land is so far away..."

"I will give you all you need to go wherever you like."

"Freedom... money... I swear, I cannot understand you. What do you hope to gain by all that?"

"Knowing that at least you are happy, and that I made you happy."

"And... can I go immediately?"

"Of course. But I advise you to wait for the next caravan going towards the coasts of Egypt. At Iskandariya, the famous Egypt town that has your name, you can find a ship going towards your land. Travelling alone, for a stranger like you, would be too dangerous."

"When will next caravan pass here?"

"I do not know: perhaps tomorrow, perhaps in a month..."

"And in the meantime?"

"If you wish you can remain as my guest."

"And what do you ask in exchange? You want me in your bed?"

"A guest is sacred, you are free to do anything you wish. No-one has any rights over you any more. Not even I."

"I really cannot understand you. But of course I accept: I would be a fool to refuse my freedom. But it still seems impossible to me that you give me up in such a way, without earning anything in exchange."

"One thing only I ask from you, even if I do not demand it."

"What is it?"

"That you, when recalling me, think I loved you with all myself..."

Strange days followed. Malik, even if he was not really sad, had become taciturn. Iskandar wandered the Palace, silent as a shadow, as if he wanted to verify his freedom by movement, and he went to the bazaar or he idled in the gardens. But, I noticed, he avoided me. When it was impossible not to be in my presence, he avoided my eyes. Quite often, instead, he seemed to watch Malik with hidden glances, as if studying him, trying to understand some mystery. Amin was a little worried for Malik but he fully shared his decision.

At last a caravan of Egyptian merchants with a load of spices passed through our capital. I spoke with the chief of the caravan and agreed a price to safely escort Iskandar as far as Egypt, in all possible comfort. Then I handed over to the boy a money purse and a letter which declared him a guest of the Shaikh and asked respect and protection for him. The caravan left with Iskandar. Malik now was really sad. Neither his wives nor his lovers seemed to be able to cheer him up.

About a week after Iskandar had left, I heard that there had been brought into town a man that was found, seriously wounded, on the coast road. The news itself would not have particularly struck me if it was not that the man, I was told, was an Egyptian and a member of the caravan that a week before had stopped in our capital. As soon as I heard this, I immediately left the Palace and went to speak with him. As I had feared, the caravan to which I had entrusted the boy had been attacked by a band of badaawin not far from the city of Al Vajih. This man was one of the few survivors, because he was believed dead. I asked him if he had news of Iskandar and the man answered that the stranger boy, together with the youngest members of the caravan, had been taken away by the predators as a prisoner.

We still were speaking when Malik, who had heard the news from one of the slaves of the court, arrived out of breath. I informed him of the news I had already obtained. He asked some more questions of the wounded man, then, after hearing his story, rushed back to the Palace. Here he asked to be received by his father and asked from him authorization to go with a strong group of soldiers and guards to search for Iskandar. Amin, initially, tried to dissuade him from going:

"How can you possibly found him? We do not even know if the boy is still alive. Much less we know where the predators are by now. The search could be long and fruitless and you may not find them or, worse, find them too late..."

"But I have to go, father! Please, father, do not force me to disobey you! If you do not give me the soldiers I ask you, I will leave alone, but I will go. I promised Iskandar his freedom: I can not tolerate him again being a slave!"

They discussed the matter for a long while but in the end, after asking for my advice, Amin gave him the authorization to go with a chosen group of thirty well armed soldiers, particularly skilled and loyal, and mounted on the best and fastest horses of our stables. The squad immediately went at full speed towards the point where the ambush had taken place. Once there, they started their investigation and quickly learned from the local people that the band had been seen going towards the north-east, in the direction of the mountains. For a while it was not too difficult to follow the tracks of the band, because they had left behind nothing but destruction, violence and robbery. But when Malik reached Taima, it suddenly seemed as if they had vanished. Malik had no intention of giving up his hunt and the more time elapsed, the more urgency he felt to find the predators and free Iskandar. But, notwithstanding that they were systematically exploring the surroundings of Taima, it seemed as if nobody knew about the badaawin band.

One evening they passed near a faqir. Malik, as was his usual practice, gave him a generous alms. The man, after chanting Allah's praise, said to Malik:

"My noble Lord, I have heard in Taima that you are looking for a badaawin band that assaulted a caravan of Egyptian spice merchants..."

"Yes, that is right. You know where they are?"

"I do not really know if they are the ones you seek, but there is one band which often raids the coasts. They never pass through Taima, usually they go round: they possibly are who you look for. But the band is very big, and is to be feared. I do not know if with your men you can succeed in confronting them should you dare to enter their den."

"Where do they hide? Do you know?"

"In the Nafud, noble Lord, not far from Al Jof."

"How can I find their hiding place?"

"Their encampment is in a small valley, where there is a water spring. It is not a real oasis, there must be no more than four trees. But the place is in an easyily defended position and they are people used to fighting in the desert, very skilled. Do not go searching for them, you will put yourself in their trap."

"How does it happen that you know so well their den?"

"A faqir bothers no-one, prince. He can pass undisturbed almost everywhere."

"But I have to go. I have to free my guest they took prisoner."

"The prisoners, like the merchandise, they usually sell to the caravans passing nearby, with whom they have agreements..."

"Where do they sell the loot?"

"At Al Jof. Often slave merchants caravans pass there and they know that often the badaawin have young to sell. So one of the men of Al Jof goes to call the predators and they bring their merchandise to sell it to the merchants."

"You said they usually sell... who do they not sell?"

"Oft times they keep strong males as their slaves for hard work. These are gelded to make them more docile. And at times they keep a young female as a concubine."

Malik felt a quiver of dismay: he had not thought of that possibility. Iskandar was not a big man, but neither had he a weak body... Feeling even more hurried than before, he said to the faqir:

"I must go. Tell me what way it is convenient I take, how can I find their den... I pray to you!"

"Go to Al Jof. It is better you ask if there has recently been a sale of slaves. Then do not go straight towards the little valley called the Waadi as Shiran, where they camp. Go rather towards Kaf, then turn to the south. The road is more difficult, but on that side probably they are less watchful. You can easily recognize the point where you have to turn southwards, because on the road to Kaf there is a grave on which all the passersby put a stone so that now there is a stone cone, tall almost like a man. That is the point to go south... And may Allah protect you, as you really will need His help!"

Malik gave a second alm to the faqir and, spurring on his horse, guided his men at gallop to Al Jof. Here they asked if lately there had passed a slave merchants' caravan. Getting a negative answer, Malik decided to go immediately towards Kaf. But, along the road, they saw in the distance a caravan heading for Al Jof.

"They could be the slave merchants..." Abdel said pointing them out to the prince.

"They could be. We must hurry then."

"No, Malik. I have an idea. Let us wait until they send to call the predators, then wait for the badaawin to leave their camp with the slaves they intend to sell. It will be just a small group, not all of them, because in this territory they must feel safe. So we can easily overcome them..."

They discussed it for a while. Aziz proposed killing the man going to call the badaawin and to substitute him with one of their men. The plan had several weak points but out of despair, they decided to try. Hidden amongst the dunes, they saw the caravan passing far away. They waited for a full day. To Malik the waiting was hard and heavy, but at that point he had to play the game to the last. Finally, the day after, they saw a lonely man going on horse towards the Waadi as Shiran valley. Readily they intercepted and caught him. The man, after torture, admitted he was the man sent to warn the predators and said that there was a password. Malik promised him his life would be safe if the password was revealed to be right. On the other hand, he said, he could make him die in the most atrocious torments. The man, then, scared to death, gave them other details. They undressed him, a soldier put on his clothes, took his horse and continued to the badaawin camp.

One more day passed and at last they saw the predators and their caravan of prisoners coming from the valley toward Al Jof. Well hidden, they awaited. The predators were a dozen in all and had with them a column of little more than twenty young men and women tied with chains. When the caravan slowly passed a pre-arranged point, Malik with half of his men went out in the open shouting and shooting the mounted predators, whilst the other half cut their retreat toward their encampment. The badaawin engaged a furious battle but soon they were completely surrounded and, one after the other, all killed. In the battle, besides the predators, two of Malik's men died and Aziz was wounded. Moreover five prisoners were killed by stray bullets. But Iskandar was not found either among the living or the dead. Malik questioned the surviving slaves and discovered that the infidel slave, Iskandar, had never arrived at the badaawin den, because he had already been sold to the Shaikh of Al 'Ula, along the journey. Malik freed the prisoners from their chains, gave to them the horses of the dead predators, and advised them to head quickly for a city on the coast and to ask for protection. He also entrusted to them the captive messenger so that he could not go to the camp or the town and give the alert. Then at an unbridled gallop he left for Al 'Ula. They were in sight of the town four days later. Here, stopping at one of the gates, Malik identified himself and asked for an audience with the local Shaikh.


WAAW

Leaving his men outside the walls, escorted only by Abdel, he was received by the shaikh Hamid ibn Hussein. Even if he was not one of the most influential shaikhs of that area, nor one of the richest, he was a man of refined tastes, dressed in a studied way, and had a lean and curt aspect. He listened to Malik's request, then said:

"Supposing that the slave you are telling me about is the same I bought a few days ago, noble Malik, he is nothing but an infidel. What duties can we ever have, we followers of the true religion, toward an infidel dog?"

"He was my guest, therefore under my protection."

"Yes, you rightly say: he was... but nowadays, unhappily, out of your father's territories, not even the Sultan's protection has any real value..."

"You then refuse to give him back to me?"

"I did not say that, my dear prince. But now, taste this kebab, give honour to my table, I pray you."

"I thank you for your kind hospitality. But I have in my heart the destiny of my protected. As I said to you, I will pay back to you all the money you spent to buy him."

"It is not a problem of money, prince. Supposing, I repeat, that my slave is really your protected one, I do not like to lose a good purchase. You see, the boy I have bought will be gelded and become a guardian of my harem. He is the right age not to be physically ruined. My eunuchs are all splendid examples, and they all are foreigners. But I have not yet had a north european in my collection..."

"But I can not permit Iskandar to be gelded!" Malik vehemently interjected.

"In the name of Allah! You are missing good manners! Only the sacred duty of hospitality prevents me from attaching too much weight to this fit of yours! You have no right to come here to tell me what I can or can not do with my slaves!"

"I ask for your forgiveness, most excellent Shaikh. But that boy is to me more than a brother."

"An uncircumcised? You amaze me, prince."

"Tell me what you ask in order to give him back to me. I am ready to give anything just to have him back."

"Anything? But what is he to you, the boy you are looking for? Is he perhaps your... favourite?"

"No, he is not. But to me he is more important than if he was. More than my life."

"You really make me curious... All of you, out of here! I want to talk privately with my guest!" the Shaikh said to the court people.

Abdel looked at Malik, who nodded to him to leave with the others. The man seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then bowed and obeyed.

"Now we are alone, Hamid, what do you wish to say to me?"

"I wanted to know what you are prepared to pay to have back that infidel boy..."

"You fix the price and if the money I have on me is not enough, I will send my men to get what is needed."

"No... I do not need money, as I said. But there is something else you can do to pay me back..."

"What is it? Tell me."

"I have a slave, Ahmed, and I am deeply fond of him. His mother was my wet-nurse, she gave me her milk at the same time as him. We have grown together. We always did everything together. There are just two differences between us. One is that I am a shaikh and he is a slave. The other is... Well, from the first moment you entered here I noticed Ahmed looking at you with extreme interest, or rather I should say that he did not take his eyes off you for a single moment, and I know very well what that particular look of his means! Because, you see, the other difference is that I like just young females, but he likes young men such as you, he is not at all interested in women, but in the nice, small, firm asses of young males. And he likes to mount and ride only free men, this is his one little vice. I am very fond of him, so I try to make him happy supplying him with what he really likes. So, if you let Ahmed ride you here in front of me, this... Iskandar will be all yours."

Malik, during this speech, had jumped up, astounded: "I, let a slave use me? I hope you are jesting, Hamid, or you will have to pay with your blood for this offence!"

"You, not me, said you were ready to pay any price: now prove it. My price is your humiliation. About making me pay with my blood... it will not be so easy. Anyway, if you refuse you can just leave. But... you have to know that I will have that boy gelded as planned. Now sit down please, think about my request, and give me your answer."

Malik remained standing, quivering with rage: "What you propose is absurd! You know who my father is, he will never forgive you for such an offence."

"Yes, I know yours is really an ancient family. And it seems that your father has a strong army. But I have protectors and allies and it will not be so easy for your father to come here without running into big problems... But then... it is enough if your father does not know of this, is it not so? Even my men will never know about our agreement. It will remain between the three of us, I swear. But if this uncircumcised boy is really so important to you, you have to humiliate yourself and to fully please my Ahmed. It is up to you to make your choice... freely."

Malik shut his eyes: a dull rage suffused him from head to toe. But he understood that if he refused, nothing and nobody could save Iskandar from castration and slavery. Yes, of course he could and would revenge him, but the damage would remain, irreparable. His honour for the freedom of his beloved one. But can love suffer such a sacrifice?

"Before giving you an answer, I would like to meet Iskandar, alone."

"Granted. Follow me."

He led him to a small room in the slave quarters and pointed him towards a curtain:

"He is behind there. When you are finished, I will be outside that door waiting for you. When we meet again, you must have made your choice: either you let my slave fuck you in the ass, or your Iskandar will be gelded. An ass in exchange for a cock! It seems a fair exchange to me!" said the man amused, chuckling.

"All right, you have my word."

Malik rose the curtain and found himself in a small bleak room, and saw Iskandar. He was chained to the wall, completely naked, arms and legs wide spread. Malik shuddered seeing the object of his love in these conditions. His chest was streaked by whip marks and his wrists and ankles were swollen inside the iron rings holding them, because of the efforts made by the boy in attempting to wriggle free. By instinct Malik held out a hand and lightly caressed the tortured body. Feeling himself touched, Iskandar opened his eyes: his furious look widened and passed away in amazement and he murmured:

"Malik... Lord!"

"Yes, Iskandar, it is I. I came to free you. Just be patient a little while longer. I will pay your price to your new master, then I will take you away, and you will be free and safe. Just have confidence in me."

"You really came for me? To free me?"

"Yes. I always abide by my promises. Goodbye for now. But we will meet very soon."

"I will wait, Lord." the boy murmured and gave a tired little smile.

Malik once again brushed his loved one's body, then opened the curtain and went out of the little room. The Shaikh was waiting him with a thin smile floating on his lips.

"I am ready to pay the price you asked of me. But before I do, my man has to lead the boy out of this city."

"Agreed! Ahmed will be really happy to be able to fuck the ass of a true prince, young and beautiful as you are. And I will be really amused to watch you being fucked by one slave just to free another. Come, prince Malik, let us go set all these things in motion."

"Remember you swore no-one will ever know about what is to happen..."

"Of course not, I gave you my word of honor!"

Back in the private audience room, Malik waited until Iskandar was brought there and gave orders to Abdel to accompany the boy out of the walls and to entrust him to Aziz, then to come back to the Palace to confirm that Iskandar was with his soldiers. While waiting, the Shaikh had summoned musicians to cheer up the courtiers, and had food and drink distributed. Malik waited, with a dark expression, and touched nothing. When Abdel returned saying the boy was safe, Hamid said to Malik:

"So, prince, would you please follow me?"

"I am ready to pay the price we agreed."

Hamid led him to a nearby room and called for Ahmed. When Ahmed entered the room, the Shaikh sat on some cushions and said:

"Unveil your beauties, prince, undress completely and lie down on these cushions here in front of me, so that I can enjoy it all. Now, Ahmed, you can amuse yourself with him as you best please: the prince Malik has agreed to fully sate your lust..."

Malik, even if quivering with disdain, rapidly disrobed under the blazing, lusty eyes of the slave, who also undressed. Malik laid down prone on the cushions. Soon he felt the slave's hands grasp his buttocks, fingering and probing with greediness. Then he felt perfumed ointments spread in his butt crack. He shivered and closed his eyes. The slave lowered his massive muscled body on Malik, clasped in his big hands Malik's waist, and with his member forced his way into the youth's little hole. Malik felt an intense and sharp pain but, even if with a great effort, he controlled himself so that not even the faintest moan or grimace of pain escaped him and remained perfectly still. The slave was pushing strongly with his loins, penetrating him more and more deeply, then started to move up and down with violence. The Shaikh seemed to enjoy a morbid pleasure watching the rape. The slave, hammering with pleasure into the young body, emitted grunts of deep, animal enjoyment. Malik felt desecrated, sullied, insulted by this insane and mad intercourse.

But then the Prince was struck by a thought: his Iskandar had endured several times that same treatment. Now he had something in common with his beloved Danish boy. So in his heart he thanked Allah to have permitted him being subjected to this horrible test. Now he could really understand what that poor boy had suffered, how he felt inside, how much his soul was in pain. Malik at times had been penetrated by some of his lovers, but that was completely different. It is not the penetration itself which is humiliating. To give oneself to a lover is sweet and pleasurable, but to be penetrated by a stranger is a true profanity.

When at last Ahmed stood up, sated, Malik dressed again, in silence, but with a proud attitude. The Shaikh, in a honeyed voice, said:

"He was not too rude, I hope, my protected. I would be really saddened by that..."

Malik, who was hooking his scimitar at his side, looked him straight in the eye and answered:

"May Allah reward you as you deserve, paying you back ten for one."

Hamid's eyes flashed in anger: "Do you want perhaps to insult me, boy?"

"Did you perhaps insult me, Shaikh? Bread and salt are offered to the welcome guest, stone and dust are offered to build a grave, the proverb says."

"Oh yes, act the cockerel, now. But in any case my Ahmed had pitched his tent in your valley, has sunk his bucket in your well... It has been an unforgettable show, I assure you."

"And it will not to be forgotten, this I guarantee," Malik curtly replied.

The slave burst into loud laughter, but his laugh died away at the glance of the young prince.

Finally Malik was able to leave the Palace with the proud attitude of a winner, as he really felt himself to be after this most difficult test.

CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 18


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