Anal Along the Bosphorus

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The town, like most near the center of the world, was on the Bosphorus. It lay near a full days ride north of Istanbul. I’d come with a small troop of no more than ten, as I did whenever I left the city walls.

I’d just been appointed special assistant to the grand vizier of the Sultan, and had only been back in the safe structure of the Empire for less than half a year when my first appointment called me to the town of Rumeli. Leaving the confounds of the palace seemed wonderful after months of confinement and training. My job was a special one, and maybe one of the best jobs ever created in the history of the world.

I found myself head recruiter for the Harem, which had just been retrofitted to accommodate a dozen or more apartments. Vacancies were a common occurrence during those days, as the Sultan mistrusted his Black Eunuch’s often.

I never had the final say on who would enter as a servant for the Queen mother, or for the pleasures of the great Sultan, but I had the ability to present his greatness, the foundation of our world, with a selection of beauties from around the Empire.

We arrived at dusk and the sleepy town with a stone fortress had but few lamps lit. The moon was up, though the sky maintained the swirl of indescribable beauty of dying daylight. I thanked Allah for the chance to witness such grandeur, and for the second chance at life he’d given me during battle in the lands to the east.

Our commotion startled the town. It wasn’t often they had visitors from the palace. A man appeared with torch, and offered a place to hobble and feed our destriers. I thanked him and offered him a silver piece which he greedily took. I asked him if there was a suitable place for the soldiers to set camp for the night anywhere but the fort. He sent for his son who showed us to a clearing above the flowing black Bosporus. A few barges were anchored near the shore and their lonely pilot lights twinkled like lost stars. The air smelled fresh, clean, nothing like the sweet pungency of the city.

“Is there an inn where I may stay?” I asked the son. He told me no, but agreed to show me to a house where I could stay.

He led me to a small wooden house in the center of the town. A single road had been cobbled through the town, along the road a row of houses were built up, on the other side of the road small wooden piers jutted out into the water where two dozen fishing boats bobbed on the night water.

The man who owned the house was a retired Janissary spearman. He lived alone and was named Fidan.

“I am special assistant to the Vizier to the great Sultan, here on official business in the good of the Empire. I require lodging for the night, if it may be possible I can compensate you a gold piece for your assistance in the cause of the Empire.”

Old Fidan didn’t want any compensation and said he would have me for free out of love for the Sultan. Still, without his knowledge I left a gold piece on top of his ragged counter when I departed.

“I have me a small room, separate from the house. My son lived there before he went on campaign. My maid still keeps it. You may stay there for as long as you wish.”

I thanked him and told him I would need a single night and no more. He didn’t ask me what had brought me to the town, but accepted my presence as if he did this every month for the Sultan. We exited the back door of his house and walked a few paces through a manicured garden and grove of walnut trees. A small hut sat under the walnut trees and he opened the door, showing me the room. A single bed and desk, and a birch table with three chairs. There were windows on every wall with wooden shutters closed and locked from the inside, closed for the mosquitoes, he assured me.

“I’m here to enquire about a woman.”

His eyes opened wide, then he grinned. “Semet?”

“Ah, you know of her?”

“All the world does, my friend. A suitor comes by each week for a chance at her.”

“But, her father?”

“Her father indeed. He requires more than just money. The other day a Kapikulu commander stopped by after hearing of her beauty in the land of Crimea. Half a bag of gold the father turned down. Said the man didn’t look to have a future.” Fidan shook his head. “It will be tough going for you, but you come from the Palace, that may persuade the old man, if you have gold.” He showed his rotten teeth.

“Ah, Semet isn’t for me. I come on behalf of the great Sultan, may Allah bless him. All news makes it to the palace and to the ears of our great one. It is not only in Crimea that her beauty is known. It is said that her eyes put emeralds to shame, and that her skin glows the color of snow.”

“That is true, but not many get to see her. Her father keeps her locked away in the house, for even the men of this village have fallen victim to her qualities.”

“Where can I find the father of Semet?”

“Why he is my neighbor, and I know him well. Here, rest a bit and let me fetch him over for tea, then I will leave you to talk business.”

“No, illegal bahis I’d like to pay a visit to his house.”

“Come with me.”

I left my sack of belongings on the bed and followed the hobbling old soldier to the house built beside his own. It was a three story home with a gable roof and cracked facia. The shutters were closed, but the light from lamps exposed the joints of the wood. I knocked on the door of the home and heard the scrambling of footsteps.

“Who goes?” Asked a voice from within.

“It is I, Special assistant to the Vizier to the Sultan, here on business for the palace. Here are my credentials.” I pulled out a rolled parchment, freshly imprinted with wax and gold.

The door opened and a man ten years older than myself showed his face. His beard hung to his chest and his eyes were that of coals fresh pulled from the bowels of the Earth. He looked me up and down and saw my dress, which calmed his brow. He seemed to know why I was there, looked at the credential and nodded, then turned his head and called for his wife to boil water.

He sat me down on plush pillows over worn carpets. The room looked well furnished for being located so far from the center of the world. I could tell that this town saw many vendors from abroad by the mesh of styles his furniture contained.

“May Allah bless this occasion. What brings an emissary of the Sultan to tiny Remuli?” The father asked when he’d returned with a steaming tray of tea. He set the tray down and poured three glasses full, then handed the burning glasses to us, which I manipulated easily with my fingers.

“The Sultan has heard of your daughter, the beautiful Semet, and he wishes that he may meet her in the Palace. I’m here in his place, to see if the rumors of her enchantment are true, and if so, to offer you what may befit a man like yourself, for her, so that she may live in the Palace.” I finished what I had to say and took a sip of the tea, waiting for the father to speak.

The father acted as if he hadn’t heard me, but stared forward as if in deep thought. I began to worry that I may not have been clear enough, and cleared my throat about to say more, when the father spoke:

“So, the Sultan wishes for my daughter to live in his harem, is that it? And you, sir, are going to whisk her away in the night for a few gold pieces?”

“Sir, it is the greatest honor one could have, for your daughter to be chosen by the great ruler of our Empire. Allah has surely looked down on you and bestowed a gift. Imagine now, if the Sultan does like her, then she may conceive children and your grandchild may one day become governor of a province, or greater still, if your daughter is bestowed Queen Mother, well, imagine the riches you’ll have then. And you may be the grandfather of a future Sultan.” I saved this last line for last, and laid it on him slowly, letting my words sink in.

As expected his eyes shone, I saw hunger in them and I knew I had him.

“A hundred gold pieces for a visit to the palace, and if the Sultan likes her, may Allah shine his blessings onto him and the Ottomans, then another two hundred pieces. If not, if by some unfortunate reason, he doesn’t like what he sees, well then I will return her to you safe, and untouched, and you can keep the hundred gold pieces.”

The father’s breath quickened and he drank the contents of his tea in one gulp.

“And you, assistant to the Vizier, you must see her? I keep her from all men, you know. I don’t like when men see her, they drool like dogs, and it makes me uncomfortable”

“I am no dog. I need to see her, my eyes are in the place of our Sultan’s, may Allah bless him. It is my job. Our foundation of the world pays me to be his eyes and decide for him that he will like her. My reputation is on the line you see, if I bring him girls that he will not like, it will be a disgrace to me and my family. If I touch a girl that is to be brought to him, then, I will be executed. I am a good believer and would never do you dishonor. You can be assured that Semet will be safe with me.”

He stood and asked for me to produce the money.

“I can’t, until I see her and she passes my examination. How old is she?”

“Nineteen.”

“Very well. She’s been in good care, never married?”

“She’d been under my care. Semet, Semet.” He called out, his eyes locked on my own. He scared me. I knew he wouldn’t hesitate to kill me if I disrespected his daughter, no matter if I were the Sultan or not.

“Father?” The voice rang out like the chime of a delicate bell; a chime that struck to the core of femininity.

“Come down here daughter, there is someone I would like you to meet.”

Footsteps and the creaking of wood followed as she came down the stairs and appeared from the shadows into the yellow light of the gas lamps. She came from behind where I sat and when I turned to look at her, her eyes struck me like two saucers of shining green moonlight. Instantly they turned away from me and she focused on an object on the wooden illegal bahis siteleri floor.

“Semet, remove your veil.”

“Father? But we have a guest–“

“Semet.” His voice was as stern as an officer of the brigades. I won’t deny that it was magnificent to hear her ordered to show her private face.

A flick of her thin white wrists and I saw why life is wonderful.

Her nose was small and pointy, sharp looking and perfect for her eyes. Her lips were two pink pillows, slightly parted and showing the whites of her teeth. Because her eyes were so large, and her lips voluptuous, her nose may have looked even smaller than it truly was. Her head covering was blue, and it covered her hair entirely.

She looked intelligent and shy, uncomfortable in the presence of a strange man.

“Semet, this man is from Topkapi Palace.”

“You are?” She asked, again her voice took me hostage, and combined with her powerful looks, rendered me speechless for the first time in my life. I noticed she wouldn’t hold eye contact with me.

“I’ve come to take you to the palace. The Sultan, may Allah bless him and the air he inhales, wishes a visit with you. Our Emperor wants for you to live with him in the Palace, Semet. He’s heard of your…”

Her eyes lit up and she opened her lips some more, showing her small even teeth. She looked to her father, who had returned to his stoic self, then back to me. There was more than just life and youth and femininity swimming in her giant emerald eyes, there was the sexual creature of sweet innocence, hidden and exposed and gone.

“Vizier, you were saying?” Her father asked.

“Semet, I need an interview with you. After that, if all goes well and your father agrees, we will be heading to the Palace so that you can live there, with the great Emperor, may Mohammed, Allah’s one and true prophet, praise him.”

“Here’s your interview.” The father told me.

I pulled from inside of my cloak a heavy bag of coins that I’d had strapped around my shoulder by a leather belt. The father followed the bag with his eyes and I put it down beside the steaming pot of tea. I pulled at the hemp knot and it opened up, leaning to one side and a single coin rolled out of it and to the ground. The father knelt down and examined the coin, then bit it. He saw the fresh stamp of the Empire and looked at me in astonishment.

“You are no liar. Gold. Allah is the one and only god and Mohammed is his prophet.”

“May I have a private interview with Semet, to make sure she is right for the Sultan?”

“Isn’t this an interview enough? You wish to see her in private? Is that it?”

“Well–“

“No. Impossible.”

“I am acting in the place of the Sultan. What I speak to Semet, may be interpreted as his own words. And the Sultan has instructed me to speak only with Semet. That’s the way this works my friend. I mean you and your daughter no harm, may Allah hear my words and judge me by them.”

“Here is another room, you may interview her here in my house. I will be in this room. You and her in that room.” He stood and slid open a wooden door that led into a cramped, ill lit room. Bundles of cloth towered along the walls. There were several crocodile skinned books in a neat stack. To sit, two plush pillows. He brought a lamp and set it down on the floor.

“I will be right outside the door Semet. Don’t be afraid to call for me.”

I nodded and led Semet into the room. When Semet passed, I noticed she was smaller than I’d first though. The top of her head passed only to mid chest, though I am taller than most men. A faint waft of lavender entered my sinuses. Her presence as she passed was that of a delicate feline, not a woman. I closed the door behind us.

In the light of the room I saw her figure from behind. She wore a robe of red cotton. Her shoulders were small and frail. Her back tapered from her shoulders to an unbelievably thin waist, where she wore a belt of the same material keeping the robe closed.

Below this tiny waistline, her hips swelled out seductively. Her buttocks were shapely. Each cheek onion shaped and fleshy. This was the legendary behind I’d heard sailors speaking of in the Istanbul coffee shops.

She must have felt me staring because she turned suddenly and caught my hungry eyes on her backside.

I nodded and cleared my throat, “Uh, sit, Semet.” I said. She sat on the pillow. The lamp in the room was old and the glass yellowed and black, making the light a dull orange in the room.

“This is the first time I have been alone with a man since I was a little girl. I’m sorry if I’m uncomfortable.” She said, not to me, but to herself. She looked around as if she had just been born into the world a few minutes ago.

“So you do want to go to the Palace?”

“Yes. I would love that. Is it possible…the Sultan himself would find me attractive?”

“I believe he would.”

“How wonderful it will be to meet him. Is he handsome like they say?”

“Women find him likable.” canlı bahis siteleri He was well past his prime. “Your age?”

“Nineteen.”

“And you’ve lived here in Remuli all your life? What do you do all day?”

“I clean, and sew garments for my father. We sell knitted caps at the pier for the merchants and fishermen who pass through. He owns a barge and he makes money by floating quarry to the city.”

“Have you had many suitors?”

“My father receives visitors all the time…some ask for my hand in marriage.”

“It seems the entire Empire knows of your beauty.”

“There was one fisherman who used to live here. He’s been in love with me since as far back as I can remember. He’s told all the others, and they tell others, and my father says all down the Bosphorus they speak of my beauty.”

“So you think you are beautiful?”

She looked away from me and covered her mouth as if she’d accidently told me a secret. “Everyone says so.”

“You are, Semet.”

“May I see your hands?” I asked.

She showed them to me. I was sitting across from her on the other pillow and took the hands into my own. They were cold and slender. Tiny in my rough, battle worn hands.

“Your teeth? Can you open your mouth please.”

She opened her mouth and I peered into the tiny wet opening between her lips. Her small tongue quivered and aimlessly flinched. Her innocent tongue stirred blood to my penis and I felt my manhood awaken. I tried my best at ignoring the fact that lust had been stirred in my loins.

I leaned close to her, so that my voice would be a whisper. I had the feeling that her father was standing just on the other side of the door, maybe even watching, if he knew of a slit in the wall.

“I will need to feel around in your mouth, to test your teeth. Is that alright with you?”

She nodded four very quick nods, her shy eyes never staying on me for long.

I turned the lamp down so that room became engulfed in shadows, just in case the father was watching us. Semet sat silently on the pillow before me. Both of us were sitting, me crossed legged, and her with her legs swept to her left side. We were half an arms length away from each other.

“Open up, Semet.” I kept my index finger pointed upwards, showing her what she was going to have in her mouth for the next few moments.

Her perfect lips parted and I felt the warmth of her mouth. My finger penetrated past her teeth, and I felt them rub slightly on the top and bottom of my finger. I held it that way for a moment and her tongue, so young and anxious, flicked my finger by accident. This stimulated me to no end.

I saw her face, her eyes closed as she concentrated on my finger in her mouth. Her head covering on either side of her face. I imagined my finger was my penis. What a tight fit it would be in her mouth. She could barely open up for my finger. I pushed in deeper to the back of her throat and she gagged, but not before I felt the snug tenderness of her throat.

She coughed and I saw her eyes become watery, thus I removed my saliva laden finger.

“I’m not yet finished, Semet.” I told her and she nodded, clearing her throat with fragile cough.

In my finger went. Her pretty mouth accepted my finger in a slow push. Her breathing became rapid, short hot bursts against the top of my finger. She was nervous and didn’t like my finger in her tiny mouth. Yet this fact turned me on, and made me want to prolong the fingering of her luscious facial opening.

I gently began to fuck her mouth with my finger. She sat there, innocent, as I slid in and out of her mouth. This was indeed her first penetration of many by me. This first time held significance for me because she had no idea what I was doing.

I could only imagine what she was thinking.

“Very good Semet, now close your lips around the finger.”

Her pillow like lips closed down gently, feather like, yet firm enough to cause friction. Now it was easier to imagine my cock in her mouth. Her eyes were closed. Her chin pushed out towards me to meet my finger. Her lips were puffed out as they smothered the finger pushing in and out of her slippery mouth.

I pulled my finger from her and wiped it on my robe. I saw her tongue dart around her lips, licking the excess saliva she’d created.

“Good enough?” She asked nervously. I could see she was afraid to have me say anything bad or critical.

“Now, I’m going to ask you some things that you must answer correctly. This all depends if you get to go and see the great Sultan.”

“What?”

“Have you ever been with a man before?”

“No. Never.”

That was it. That was all that was required of me to ask her. All of my training from the Grand Vizier, and the Head Eunuch had been to make sure they were the most beautiful virgins; that was all. The Sultan liked good teeth, and womanly hands, she had both of those. This was the turning point of my life, where I began to betray the Empire who’d nurtured me, and gave me opportunity to prove my love to Allah on the battlefields to the east, and let me live in the domain of the Sultan. Instead of leading her back to her father to pack for the morning ride to Istanbul, I decided I wanted to see her in the flesh.

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