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Paskell, The Blonde Slave Of The Sultan
- Thread starter theseus
- Start date
Oh!
They are too big!
But she has no choice
I think those two need to come with a warning!
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
8
Paskell was dragged to her feet.
“Now! What am I bid for this fine white slave? You have all seen her skill with her mouth! Many of you have experienced the pleasure of her wanton cunt and ass! She is decorative, skilled and, if not always willing, can soon be whipped into compliance. Ownership of a slave like this will not only be satisfying but will enhance your status!”
Bidding was brisk! However it was not brisk enough. “Come! Think of the pleasures between these lovely thighs! The soft warm of her mouth! The skill of her tongue!”
There were a few more bids.
“No more? Sold!”
A part of Paskell was relieved that the ordeal of the sale was over. Another part of her was annoyed that she had sold for less than Nanette or the black girl! How dare they!
She was handed over to her new owner, the same veiled woman who had bought the black girl. The woman led her two new purchases away, leashed like animals. The walked a few yards to a blacksmith’s workshop. A few words were exchanged, the blacksmith’s assistants took hold of Paskell, bending her backwards over a barrel. He extracted a red-hot branding iron from the fire.
“Where?”
Paskell struggled furiously! Four burly blascksmith’s apprentices struggled to hold her still! Her owner placed her finger on her slave’s left breast, just above the nipple.
“Nooooo! Please! Noooo!” Paskell’s begging was to no avail. She could feel the heat of the red hot iron as the blacksmith made sure of it’s positioning. The veiled woman nodded! Carefully he lowered the branding iron. The red hot metal burned into the tender flesh of her breast, She screamed as the pain struck, as the smell of roasting meat filled her nostrils! He held the brand there for several seconds, marking her forever as a slave!
The other girl was luckier. Her brand was burned into the firm flesh of her buttock. She moaned softly, managing not to disgrace herself by screaming.
Paskell cradled her tortured breast. Incongruously the thought went through her head, “I will never be able to wear a low cut court dress again.” She realised that the thought was ridiculous. She would never be at court again. Probably never wear any kind of dress again.
The black girl spoke softly. “I am sorry Frank, Our mistress is cruel to have marked you there. You had such pretty breasts.” She shrugged. “You deserve your chains, but not that. I am Bea. Welcome to slavery.
Through waves of pain, Paskell was led into her new life.
Paskell was dragged to her feet.
“Now! What am I bid for this fine white slave? You have all seen her skill with her mouth! Many of you have experienced the pleasure of her wanton cunt and ass! She is decorative, skilled and, if not always willing, can soon be whipped into compliance. Ownership of a slave like this will not only be satisfying but will enhance your status!”
Bidding was brisk! However it was not brisk enough. “Come! Think of the pleasures between these lovely thighs! The soft warm of her mouth! The skill of her tongue!”
There were a few more bids.
“No more? Sold!”
A part of Paskell was relieved that the ordeal of the sale was over. Another part of her was annoyed that she had sold for less than Nanette or the black girl! How dare they!
She was handed over to her new owner, the same veiled woman who had bought the black girl. The woman led her two new purchases away, leashed like animals. The walked a few yards to a blacksmith’s workshop. A few words were exchanged, the blacksmith’s assistants took hold of Paskell, bending her backwards over a barrel. He extracted a red-hot branding iron from the fire.
“Where?”
Paskell struggled furiously! Four burly blascksmith’s apprentices struggled to hold her still! Her owner placed her finger on her slave’s left breast, just above the nipple.
“Nooooo! Please! Noooo!” Paskell’s begging was to no avail. She could feel the heat of the red hot iron as the blacksmith made sure of it’s positioning. The veiled woman nodded! Carefully he lowered the branding iron. The red hot metal burned into the tender flesh of her breast, She screamed as the pain struck, as the smell of roasting meat filled her nostrils! He held the brand there for several seconds, marking her forever as a slave!
The other girl was luckier. Her brand was burned into the firm flesh of her buttock. She moaned softly, managing not to disgrace herself by screaming.
Paskell cradled her tortured breast. Incongruously the thought went through her head, “I will never be able to wear a low cut court dress again.” She realised that the thought was ridiculous. She would never be at court again. Probably never wear any kind of dress again.
The black girl spoke softly. “I am sorry Frank, Our mistress is cruel to have marked you there. You had such pretty breasts.” She shrugged. “You deserve your chains, but not that. I am Bea. Welcome to slavery.
Through waves of pain, Paskell was led into her new life.
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
9.
Back into the streets, naked and exposed, the brand on her breast red, livid!
Finally they reached a massive door in a blank wall, the heavy wood studded with bronze spikes. The door opened silently. This would be her home, her prison. The courtyard was magnificent, cool, with fountains and hanging plants. The tranquility was spoiled by the moans of a girl. She might have been pretty, but for her contorted face. Her shapely legs were straining as her feet tried to get a grip on the wooden stake between them. Paskell exclaimed in horror as she realised that the stake was inserted into the girl’s anus, the desperate grappling of her feet trying to stop its further invasion of her body.
Her owner barked at Paskell, who understood not a word. Bea spoke softly. “Our Mistress wants you to relieve the girl’s suffering. Go down on your knees and eat her cunt. Quickly! Before you end up that way! Our Mistress is famous for her cruelty and perversion.”
“No!!!!” Paskell’s mind screamed. “I can’t do this!”
Bea gave her a shove with her shoulder. “Go!” She hissed.
Slowly she walked to where the black slave was writhing on her stake. Dropping to her knees she applied her tongue to the tortured girl’s cunt. The taste was acrid, the taste of ear. Her eyes were focused on the rough wood stretching the girl’s anus. She realised that the tip must be somewhere deep in her vitals, slowly killing her.
Her tongue found the little nub between the soft folds, licking and teasing it. “Hapana, hapana,” the girl moaned. Her feet must have found some purchase, because Paskell could see an inch or so of slimy wood emerge from its meaty socket. She licked furiously, hoping to encourage the girl in her efforts. A bit more of the stake emerged from the tortured girl, then her feet slipped. Slowly, inexorably, the stake slid into her, this time just a bit deeper than before.
Paskell reared up as a line of fire streaked across her back! The whip snaked out again, and again, and again, an encouragement for her to work harder at the poor girl’s clit. From the corner of her eye she could see Bea’s bottom, the rest of her torso hidden beneath their owner’s voluminous robe. Obviously Bea was rendering the same service to their Mistress. The girl’s moans increased, whether from pain or the pleasure of her tongue Paskell had no idea. At unpredictable intervals the whip cracked across her back and shoulders.
Suddenly a hand wound itself into her hair, dragging her back from the impaled girl. She looked up into the girl’s unfocused eyes, noted the tears, the trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth, the strange bulge in her belly below the rib cage. The girl coughed, once, a gout of blood. Then her struggles stopped.
Paskell and Bea, both of their faces shiny with the fruits of their labour, were taken to a subterranean pit to join a number of other slaves. Among them was one of the ship’s boys, a handsome youngster who had always been cheerful and willing to help. Now he lay there, curled in a ball, weeping. The bandages around his groin told their own story. The slaves lay on concrete shelves, a drain ran between the shelves, emitting a foul stench. The two slaves lay down, their leg irons attached to a long chain. Exhausted by emotion, the hugged each other, their previous differences forgotten.
Paskell was no longer the aristocratic court lady. She lay there, as naked and filthy as the black girl her family had once owned. They were both slaves now.
Nanette was also tired. Her owner had used her repeatedly, mostly to their mutual pleasure! She lay sprawled in the soft bed; her owner’s hands feather light as they stroked her body. He was fascinated by her pale skin, the pink of her nipples. He bent to kiss, very gently, the brand on her hip. The brand that marked her as a slave, his property. She smiled to herself. In truth this was not much different to her situation as Paskell’s servant. Her owner’s lips drifted lower. With a contented sigh she parted her legs yet again, to make access to her core easier for his lips.
As she drifted off to sleep, she idly wondered what had happened to Paskell.
Back into the streets, naked and exposed, the brand on her breast red, livid!
Finally they reached a massive door in a blank wall, the heavy wood studded with bronze spikes. The door opened silently. This would be her home, her prison. The courtyard was magnificent, cool, with fountains and hanging plants. The tranquility was spoiled by the moans of a girl. She might have been pretty, but for her contorted face. Her shapely legs were straining as her feet tried to get a grip on the wooden stake between them. Paskell exclaimed in horror as she realised that the stake was inserted into the girl’s anus, the desperate grappling of her feet trying to stop its further invasion of her body.
Her owner barked at Paskell, who understood not a word. Bea spoke softly. “Our Mistress wants you to relieve the girl’s suffering. Go down on your knees and eat her cunt. Quickly! Before you end up that way! Our Mistress is famous for her cruelty and perversion.”
“No!!!!” Paskell’s mind screamed. “I can’t do this!”
Bea gave her a shove with her shoulder. “Go!” She hissed.
Slowly she walked to where the black slave was writhing on her stake. Dropping to her knees she applied her tongue to the tortured girl’s cunt. The taste was acrid, the taste of ear. Her eyes were focused on the rough wood stretching the girl’s anus. She realised that the tip must be somewhere deep in her vitals, slowly killing her.
Her tongue found the little nub between the soft folds, licking and teasing it. “Hapana, hapana,” the girl moaned. Her feet must have found some purchase, because Paskell could see an inch or so of slimy wood emerge from its meaty socket. She licked furiously, hoping to encourage the girl in her efforts. A bit more of the stake emerged from the tortured girl, then her feet slipped. Slowly, inexorably, the stake slid into her, this time just a bit deeper than before.
Paskell reared up as a line of fire streaked across her back! The whip snaked out again, and again, and again, an encouragement for her to work harder at the poor girl’s clit. From the corner of her eye she could see Bea’s bottom, the rest of her torso hidden beneath their owner’s voluminous robe. Obviously Bea was rendering the same service to their Mistress. The girl’s moans increased, whether from pain or the pleasure of her tongue Paskell had no idea. At unpredictable intervals the whip cracked across her back and shoulders.
Suddenly a hand wound itself into her hair, dragging her back from the impaled girl. She looked up into the girl’s unfocused eyes, noted the tears, the trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth, the strange bulge in her belly below the rib cage. The girl coughed, once, a gout of blood. Then her struggles stopped.
Paskell and Bea, both of their faces shiny with the fruits of their labour, were taken to a subterranean pit to join a number of other slaves. Among them was one of the ship’s boys, a handsome youngster who had always been cheerful and willing to help. Now he lay there, curled in a ball, weeping. The bandages around his groin told their own story. The slaves lay on concrete shelves, a drain ran between the shelves, emitting a foul stench. The two slaves lay down, their leg irons attached to a long chain. Exhausted by emotion, the hugged each other, their previous differences forgotten.
Paskell was no longer the aristocratic court lady. She lay there, as naked and filthy as the black girl her family had once owned. They were both slaves now.
Nanette was also tired. Her owner had used her repeatedly, mostly to their mutual pleasure! She lay sprawled in the soft bed; her owner’s hands feather light as they stroked her body. He was fascinated by her pale skin, the pink of her nipples. He bent to kiss, very gently, the brand on her hip. The brand that marked her as a slave, his property. She smiled to herself. In truth this was not much different to her situation as Paskell’s servant. Her owner’s lips drifted lower. With a contented sigh she parted her legs yet again, to make access to her core easier for his lips.
As she drifted off to sleep, she idly wondered what had happened to Paskell.
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
10,
Paskell was being pampered! She and Bea were taken in hand by a group of slave girls. They were bathed, the girls remarking in wonder at her cascade of blonde hair. Bea provided the interpretation, although some of the comments were not flattering. The slaves were disgusted by her body hair, especially the dense thicket of fur at her loins. They, all of them, were completely smooth and hairless, as if they were little girls. To Paskell their nakedness seemed somehow indecent.
An hour later she stared down at her own, now very naked, body. Devoid of hair, her vagina seemed to be much more prominent, exposed, flaunted. She wondered what the Duke, her last lover, would think of her now. Her hair had been brushed until it was a gleaming blonde torrent flowing down her back. She only wished she could understand the language as Bea and the slave girls chattered away.
A fat, effeminate looking man entered the room, barking orders. Bea looked at her, her face stricken. “Paskell. This fat toad is our owner’s major domo. He wields enormous power over us. He says that, as you are a dog…a bitch of an unbeliever you are to be treated as one.”
Bea led Paskell after the eunuch. They entered a small room where a small, wizened man awaited them. He examined Paskell, taking hold of her nose and peering at it. She screamed as a powerful pair of hands took hold of her head. The small man produced a thick needle. Blinding agony seared through her head as the needle was thrust unceremoniously through the septum of her nose. Into the hole he inserted a heavy silver ring. She was ringed like a prize bull!
Eyes streaming from the pain and the shock, she was helpless to resist the last indignity. A leather leash was locked to her nose ring, the other end locked to Bea’s wrist. The two slaves, black and white, were joined.
Bea tugged at the leash, sending new waves of pain through her face. “Come! Our mistress wants us. You are to crawl, on your hands and knees, like the bitch you now are.”
Paskell was being pampered! She and Bea were taken in hand by a group of slave girls. They were bathed, the girls remarking in wonder at her cascade of blonde hair. Bea provided the interpretation, although some of the comments were not flattering. The slaves were disgusted by her body hair, especially the dense thicket of fur at her loins. They, all of them, were completely smooth and hairless, as if they were little girls. To Paskell their nakedness seemed somehow indecent.
An hour later she stared down at her own, now very naked, body. Devoid of hair, her vagina seemed to be much more prominent, exposed, flaunted. She wondered what the Duke, her last lover, would think of her now. Her hair had been brushed until it was a gleaming blonde torrent flowing down her back. She only wished she could understand the language as Bea and the slave girls chattered away.
A fat, effeminate looking man entered the room, barking orders. Bea looked at her, her face stricken. “Paskell. This fat toad is our owner’s major domo. He wields enormous power over us. He says that, as you are a dog…a bitch of an unbeliever you are to be treated as one.”
Bea led Paskell after the eunuch. They entered a small room where a small, wizened man awaited them. He examined Paskell, taking hold of her nose and peering at it. She screamed as a powerful pair of hands took hold of her head. The small man produced a thick needle. Blinding agony seared through her head as the needle was thrust unceremoniously through the septum of her nose. Into the hole he inserted a heavy silver ring. She was ringed like a prize bull!
Eyes streaming from the pain and the shock, she was helpless to resist the last indignity. A leather leash was locked to her nose ring, the other end locked to Bea’s wrist. The two slaves, black and white, were joined.
Bea tugged at the leash, sending new waves of pain through her face. “Come! Our mistress wants us. You are to crawl, on your hands and knees, like the bitch you now are.”
OMG! I had maked the book last december. And now a new part!!!!
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
I found this in my travels. It is very interesting to see that the rules for slaves were so liberal. However, I suspect that they applied only to a privileged few slaves.
Lord Hardinge on Religious Laws Governing Slavery in Zanzibar
The following are the legal disabilities which the [Islamic] religion and law (and the two are in Zanzibar, save for a few exceptions, identical) impose upon the slave:
· He cannot own, or acquire, or dispose of private property without the permission of his master.
· He cannot give evidence in a Court of Justice, nor, without his Master’s sanction, take an oath.
· He cannot, without the sanction of his master, contract a legal marriage, nor, according to most of the doctors, even with the permission of his master, have more than two wives at the same time.
· He cannot sue his Master before a Court of law unless severely mistreated. In case of ill-treatment the qadi (judge) may and ought to warn the master that if the complaint is repeated, and proved genuine, he will forfeit his slave. Should the slave sue his master a second time, and the charge of cruelty be established, the qadi may order the slave to be sold, and the purchase money paid to the master.
· He cannot sue any other person without his master’s consent.
· He cannot, without his master’s permission, engage in trade, undertake a journey, or even make the pilgrimage to Mecca, nor in general claim any legal or civil right, except through and with his master’s sanction.
· There is no legal limitation to his master’s power of punishing him, and, theoretically, I believe that he might put him to death without himself being held guilty of murder, or of any more serious offense than cruelty.
· Except for the general prohibition described above of ill-treatment or cruelty, there is no legal limitation to the amount or nature of the work which a master may impose on his slave, whether the latter be a man, woman, or a child.
These rules are contradicted by practice in two categories: by custom, and by power of the Sultan.
In practice slaves do hold property of their own and are allowed by their masters to dispose of it. It is quite a common thing for a slave to have slaves of his own, and to treat the produce of their labour as his own personal property.
In practice, moreover, the slave is always allowed to labour two days in the week (Thursday and Friday) or at least one day (Friday) for himself and his family alone, and what he earns on those days is regarded by local custom as exclusively his.
He is also permitted to retain a small portion of what he earns while working for his master, and once every six months he is entitled to new clothing (one shirt or white cotton gown for a man, two pieces of cloth for a woman).
If his master gives him neither board, lodging, nor clothing beyond the regular half-yearly allowance, he is entitled to half his earnings. Should [his master] refuse it to him, he can be summoned on the slave’s complaint by the qadi and ordered to pay, and if he refuses, he can be imprisoned for contempt of the qadi’s order. If the slave gets no pay he is entitled to a portion of a room, a bed, and any food left over from his master’s meal or cooked by the slaves of the house or, in place of food, to 2 annas to provide for him.
Hardinge to Kimberley, Africa No. 6, C-7707, February 26, 1895.
Lord Hardinge on Religious Laws Governing Slavery in Zanzibar
The following are the legal disabilities which the [Islamic] religion and law (and the two are in Zanzibar, save for a few exceptions, identical) impose upon the slave:
· He cannot own, or acquire, or dispose of private property without the permission of his master.
· He cannot give evidence in a Court of Justice, nor, without his Master’s sanction, take an oath.
· He cannot, without the sanction of his master, contract a legal marriage, nor, according to most of the doctors, even with the permission of his master, have more than two wives at the same time.
· He cannot sue his Master before a Court of law unless severely mistreated. In case of ill-treatment the qadi (judge) may and ought to warn the master that if the complaint is repeated, and proved genuine, he will forfeit his slave. Should the slave sue his master a second time, and the charge of cruelty be established, the qadi may order the slave to be sold, and the purchase money paid to the master.
· He cannot sue any other person without his master’s consent.
· He cannot, without his master’s permission, engage in trade, undertake a journey, or even make the pilgrimage to Mecca, nor in general claim any legal or civil right, except through and with his master’s sanction.
· There is no legal limitation to his master’s power of punishing him, and, theoretically, I believe that he might put him to death without himself being held guilty of murder, or of any more serious offense than cruelty.
· Except for the general prohibition described above of ill-treatment or cruelty, there is no legal limitation to the amount or nature of the work which a master may impose on his slave, whether the latter be a man, woman, or a child.
These rules are contradicted by practice in two categories: by custom, and by power of the Sultan.
In practice slaves do hold property of their own and are allowed by their masters to dispose of it. It is quite a common thing for a slave to have slaves of his own, and to treat the produce of their labour as his own personal property.
In practice, moreover, the slave is always allowed to labour two days in the week (Thursday and Friday) or at least one day (Friday) for himself and his family alone, and what he earns on those days is regarded by local custom as exclusively his.
He is also permitted to retain a small portion of what he earns while working for his master, and once every six months he is entitled to new clothing (one shirt or white cotton gown for a man, two pieces of cloth for a woman).
If his master gives him neither board, lodging, nor clothing beyond the regular half-yearly allowance, he is entitled to half his earnings. Should [his master] refuse it to him, he can be summoned on the slave’s complaint by the qadi and ordered to pay, and if he refuses, he can be imprisoned for contempt of the qadi’s order. If the slave gets no pay he is entitled to a portion of a room, a bed, and any food left over from his master’s meal or cooked by the slaves of the house or, in place of food, to 2 annas to provide for him.
Hardinge to Kimberley, Africa No. 6, C-7707, February 26, 1895.
messaline
Crucified Amazon
It's a good surprise ! I was thinking that the story woul be unfinished ...
Can you not add the following to the book ?
messaline
Crucified Amazon
Or for muslim'slaves, what it is not the case for Paskell ...
Clear, Messa! I do that, of course! The story is back in my folder of unfinished stories.It's a good surprise ! I was thinking that the story woul be unfinished ...
Can you not add the following to the book ?
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
Certainly for Muslim slaves. Paskell is but a bitch of an unbeliever. She will be treated as such.
Seriously, I should think that many factory and mine workers in 19th century Britain would have been quite happy to be slaves under those rules. When one thinks of the women and small children who worked 12 hour days in the mines ....
Seriously, I should think that many factory and mine workers in 19th century Britain would have been quite happy to be slaves under those rules. When one thinks of the women and small children who worked 12 hour days in the mines ....
A text that anyone seriously wanting to study or write about slavery in the Islamic world should try to find
is the chapter 'The Purchase of Slaves' in the Qabus-nameh of Kai Kaus, aka Kei Kevas, Kei Kavus etc.
a regional ruler in Persia in the 11th century CE. There's an old translation by Reuben Levy,
I've got it in an anthology I found in an antique bookshop, but I can't find a complete text online,
only 'teasers' and incomplete copies - but try searching, you may have better success!
is the chapter 'The Purchase of Slaves' in the Qabus-nameh of Kai Kaus, aka Kei Kevas, Kei Kavus etc.
a regional ruler in Persia in the 11th century CE. There's an old translation by Reuben Levy,
I've got it in an anthology I found in an antique bookshop, but I can't find a complete text online,
only 'teasers' and incomplete copies - but try searching, you may have better success!
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
Thanks. I'll dig for that one.