Do not be alarmed, it started. You have served the Thasali household well for many years. The matriarch and the crown prince do not know your true value. We do. We know you chafe under the Thasali yoke. Many of us have been chafing under that yoke for generations. The time has come to throw off the Thasali yoke. We can be of great use to each other. The time has come for you to join us.
Duga read the note several times before thrusting it directly under the lantern again. He knew he wouldn’t find anything that hadn’t been there the first time he examined it, but he was irritated. Who is this “we”? He glanced around his office, wondering who was watching him now. He got up, went over to the fireplace and lit the fire. He tossed the note into the fireplace and used the poker to make sure it was thoroughly incinerated.
He had never spoken of the doubts that were seeping into his thoughts regarding his place in the Thasali household. For a boy from the Mudflats district who hadn’t even sat in a chair until he tried out for the harem, he had achieved great things. He had become the prince’s consort and then jundum. There was talk of him becoming chief of staff.
Lately, however, he had a nagging feeling that all he had achieved was at someone else’s pleasure, that he was still just someone’s servant. He wished Tertiana still lived with him. He could always talk to her. She had left about a year ago. Their separation had been amicable. She had told him that she felt she had fulfilled her duties as a wife and mother and wanted to go live with the woman who had been her lover before she and Duga married. Duga wasn’t surprised, but he missed her. He envied her. Their children were nearly grown and were pursuing their educations in Arthon, a distant city. He and Tertiana had wanted them to live without the constraint of being bonded to the Thasali household, although it was the money he earned from Thasali that paid their education expenses. As he lay in bed that night, he realized he was actually looking forward to starting the investigation into the rumored assassination plot. It would take his mind off his doubts and his loneliness.
To be continued....
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Stolen from the Harem (Tales of the Thasali Harem #2) by Jade Astor
Charis is proud to be a member of the Thasali harem, but he is even happier to be chosen as the favorite of handsome Prince Vidnar, who seems to return his devotion. Then, just as things heat up between them, Charis is kidnapped from the harem and sold to a traveling cloth merchant. He is determined to fight his way back to the man he loves.
Chapter One
Midmorning had arrived, and Oranto’s twin suns blazed high in the magenta sky. The drapes of the Thasali harem’s largest and brightest room were parted just enough to allow the intense beams of light to fall across the bed where Prince Vidnar and Charis lay side by side. There was room for three or four people on the bed, and indeed there were times when it had held that many or even more. But for the present, to Charis’ delight, Prince Vidnar wanted to share it only with him.
Just now the prince was moaning with delight as Charis held a small clay jar over him, dripping spiced ointment onto Vidnar’s smoothly muscled back.
“Ahhh,” he exhaled deeply, moving his shoulders a bit as the oily liquid pooled between them. “Yes, you’re doing it exactly right. I can feel the heat building slowly on my skin. It feels like a set of gentle fingers.”
“Just as the merchant described,” Charis agreed. He reached down and massaged the oil into Vidnar’s flesh, feeling the warmth creep up his own arm as well.
“Yes. I must admit I am a bit surprised. He wasn’t exaggerating at all. Perhaps I won’t give the rest of the jars to my brothers after all. You and I can probably make better use of them.”
Charis smothered a giggle. “Yes, your highness. As you wish.” The exotic ointment had been purchased from a merchant wagon that had rolled up outside the harem doors with guarantees of increased sensations of pleasure and amplified bodily stamina during certain types of activities. The prince had sent Charis out at once to purchase several bottles. Vidnar would test it on himself, he declared, and if it worked as promised, he would gift some to his brothers. All of them, he maintained, were sorely in need of a little physical release in order to improve their emotional dispositions.
“Still, we haven’t performed the most important test yet. Are you ready?”
“Whenever you wish, your highness,” Charis said, a bit of nervousness creeping in around the edge of his voice. He tilted the vessel upward, preventing any more oil from oozing out, and held it up as Vidnar turned himself over on the bed. Charis licked his lips as he stared down at the evidence of Prince Vidnar’s obvious—and no doubt painful—arousal. “Let me know at once if it hurts you,” Charis urged.
“Don’t worry. I will. But then, I expect a bit of discomfort. That’s part of the allure, don’t you think?”
“I wouldn’t know, your highness.”
“Then we’d better go ahead and find out, don’t you think? Do it now.”
“As you wish,” Charis agreed. His hand trembled as he tilted the jar, and he winced when a small splatter of oil dropped onto Vidnar’s middle. Vidnar hissed with excitement. His cock snapped up stiff and ready.
“Lower,” he urged.
“Yes, your highness,” Charis stammered. Then he closed his eyes and let the oil drop directly onto Vidnar’s cock. He waited, tense with anxiety in case the strong ingredients of the potion would hurt the prince’s tender flesh. He would not want it said that he had caused his master any harm, and not only because he feared punishment. The thought of Vidnar experiencing even the slightest discomfort made Charis ache too.
Luckily, the application of the oil seemed to cause Vidnar no ill effects. Instead, it appeared to make his erection grow longer and thicker, the shaft taking on a vibrant ruddy color as the concoction worked its magic.
Craning his neck, Vidnar watched the transformation with fascinated delight.
“I think the potion is working,” he said excitedly. “The merchant was telling the truth after all! I think it’s bigger than it’s ever been before!”
Charis doubted that but didn’t say anything. After all, he was familiar with every detail of the appendage in question, and it appeared much the same as always. He suspected that the power of suggestion, along with the burning sensation caused by the oil, was causing Prince Vidnar to see what he wished to.
Still, it wasn’t his place to argue.
“Yes, your highness,” he said, smiling with an enthusiasm he didn’t have to fake. “The effect is extraordinary.”
“Come here, quickly, before the potion wears off,” Vidnar ordered.
Scrambling to obey, Charis climbed atop Vidnar’s body and fitted himself accordingly. He felt the spiced oil blaze agreeably inside him as he rocked back and forth as if riding a fast-moving beast. The prince, he had learned over the course of their many sessions together, preferred the join with him that way—fast and hot and recklessly.
Before long Charis felt the familiar tingle deep within his own body. Vidnar was right—the oil’s ingredients really did react with one’s flesh, giving the impression of tiny fingers tickling at his insides. Breathing hard, Vidnar lunged upward and then froze in place as release claimed him. He shuddered for a moment and then exhaled loudly and contentedly before he fell back on the bed.
With a small moan, Charis eased himself off the prince and lay back down beside him. His own cock throbbed with need, but he did not dare touch it without express permission from Vidnar. His cock, along with the rest of his body, belonged to Vidnar now. Or, more precisely, it belonged to the royal family, of which Vidnar was the youngest representative. He had come of age only the month before and visited the royal harem for the first time. Charis had been his birthday gift, in a sense, and they had not been separated since. Being chosen as the preferred consort of a prince was an honor Charis had scarcely dared to hope for when he had first joined the harem, and he was always on guard lest he
do anything to displease the prince and fall out of favor.
“Most gratifying,” Vidnar said, eyeing the now-empty bottle of oil still clutched in Charis’ hand. Looking up, he scowled at Charis’ vague expression of pain as his balls swelled, painfully unemptied. “It gave you pleasure, too, did it not?”
“Yes, my prince,” Charis said. There was only one way to answer that question. He was there to serve the prince’s needs, not the other way around. He could now find pleasure only in the prince’s satisfaction.
“Perfect. I want to please you,” Vidnar said.
“No, my prince. It is my job to please you.”
“You do.” Vidnar smiled. He traced a finger over Charis’ lips and seemed to drift away in thought. Presently a frown creased his handsome features. “In fact, you are the only one who does. My life at the palace is decidedly unpleasant these days. Just this morning, my mother demanded that I report to the armory and take battle training until the midday meal. I told her no.”
Charis suppressed a gasp. Vidnar’s mother, the matriarch, ruled not only their land, but her family, with an unyielding will that had become legendary. He could not imagine anyone refusing one of her orders. “Was she not angry?”
Vidnar laughed. “Furious. So was my older brother Baboye. I found their wrath quite amusing, especially when I turned my back on them both and simply walked out of the room.”
Charis gaped. He had no idea how Vidnar could be so casual about such things. Back on his family’s farm, Charis had never dared refuse his parents anything for fear of being brutally slapped or even beaten with a switch or a strap. Of course, things were different on farms, and he was no prince, born to a life of privilege and freedom.
Unconcerned with Charis’ shock, or perhaps just oblivious to it, Vidnar wriggled away from him and stood up. “Now I’m in the mood for a bath. You will accompany me, of course.”
“Yes, your highness,” Charis said, rising as well. The place between his legs still ached with need. He hoped Vidnar would notice soon and afford him some sort of relief.
They passed through the large bedchamber to another room laid entirely in brightly colored stone, where water from an underground hot spring bubbled and steam rose from deep pools set into the floor. Every morning, harem servants scented the baths with flower petals and specially prepared healing salts. A few of the petals were floating on the surface even now, and the room smelled fragrant and fresh, like an indoor garden.
The two floated around in the water a while, relaxing and enjoying the warmth. Charis was at last able to stroke himself discreetly under the water. As much as he wished he could have broken protocol and asked Vidnar to attend to his needs, he held no resentment about his position. He didn’t mind serving the prince at all and keeping to his assigned place in the hierarchy of the Thasali household. On the contrary, he considered it a great privilege to serve in the harem. Having passed his trial period of six full moon cycles, he had earned his family great honor and even money by becoming a full-fledged member of the harem.
“You are perfect,” the prince mused, reaching out to caress Charis from his shoulder to his thigh. Like some of the harem boys, Charis kept his body completely hairless, even between his legs. That smoothness seemed to excite Vidnar, who had very little hair himself but seemed to prefer even less on Charis. “I can hardly believe my good fortune in securing you for myself before one of my brothers did.”
“I am the fortunate one, your highness,” Charis said in all sincerity.
Vidnar finished splashing water over the two of them and hoisted himself out of the pool. “I have a surprise for you,” he said. “Get out and come with me.”
Charis followed him to the small table which held towels and robes. When he reached for one of the towels, Vidnar shook his head.
“No, no, you must stay as you are. It’s part of the surprise.” While Charis stared without comprehending, Vidnar wiped the water off both of them and wrapped the towel around his own waist. Then he motioned for Charis, still naked, to follow him out into the corridor.
Though they were given special robes for going out in public, walking around unclothed was, of course, no big deal within the harem compound itself. Indeed, Charis could look out of any doorway at pretty much any time of day or night and see the other boys in the same state, all of them entirely unashamed. Still, he blushed at parading himself past others without any covering, especially when they entered another room where a few men had gathered, apparently to await their arrival. He felt a self-conscious burn creep over his body when all of them looked him up and down with scarcely-disguised interest—perhaps even lust.
Charis recognized one of the men as Lash, the royal tailor, who stood beside three well-dressed men he hadn’t seen before. Two grinned at Charis’ nudity and nudged and winked at each other. The third seemed to make it a point not to look. Off to one side of the room lay at least ten huge rolls of the most beautiful cloth Charis had ever seen.
“Well?” Vidnar prompted. “What do you think, Charis?”
“I confess I am at a loss, my prince. Are we here to have you fitted into a new garment?” Charis asked.
Vidnar smiled and shook his head. “No. The garment is for you. These merchants have traveled halfway round the world to bring these fine fabrics to the palace. And you will have the first cut of the rolls.” He turned to Lash. “A gold-threaded tunic and a bright red cloak with a matching sash, perhaps. Those colors would set off his hair and eyes very well, don’t you think?”
Lash’s face was taut, but he bowed respectfully. “Whatever you wish, your highness.”
“What do you think, Charis?” Vidnar asked. “Would such garments please you?”
Stunned, Charis tried to imagine himself swathed in red and gold. Without a doubt, they would look and feel magnificent on him. Yet either, never mind both, would far outclass anything that could be considered proper for one of his rank. A harem boy did not and could not dress like a prince.
“I bow to your superior judgment, my prince,” he finally stammered. “But I am unworthy of such a gift.”
“Nonsense. Tomorrow night the matriarch plans to hold a banquet which I must attend. I would find it dreadfully boring except that you will be there to accompany me. Both of us will have to look our best.” Vidnar nodded to Lash. “You may begin.”
The tailor motioned for Charis to step forward. When Charis did so, hesitantly, Lash pulled a white undertunic over Charis’ head and tugged it down over his hips. That was a relief, at least. The three cloth merchants continued to stare until Lash pointed to the two rolls of cloth he wished them to cut from. Then they scurried off to do his bidding.
“You will enjoy the banquet,” Vidnar said, watching the procedure with his arms crossed and a look of smug satisfaction on his face.
Charis found himself blushing again as lengths of string were held up to various parts of his body, marking off his measurements. “My apologies, your highness, but I fear I will not be welcome.”
“Why would you say that?”
“I worry I will overstep my bounds.” Nervously, Charis bit his lip. What Vidnar was proposing struck him as brash, even impudent. Harem boys usually attended banquets in their harem dress suits. How could he stride in looking like a member of the royal family? He would be lucky if the matriarch did not have him arrested on the spot, or worse.
“Nonsense,” Vidnar assured him. “You are not to give such matters another thought. You are my guest. The clothing is my gift to you.”
Guest? Charis marveled at the use of the word. He wanted to remind Vidnar that he was a harem boy, a servant, and a concubine—nothing more. But talking back to the prince would certainly be a transgression, perhaps more so than the clothes would be. So he stood in silence and watched himself being fitted in a glorious tunic that would have looked ostentatious even on one of the prince’s many brothers. His pride in that moment, and his happiness at being loved by a man as perfect and generous as Prince Vidnar, c
onvinced him to hold his tongue.
To be continued....
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About Danielle Summers:
Danielle Summers is a dyke in an interracial same-sex marriage living in the Midwest. She loves well-drawn characters but hates stereotypes. She lives for a good plot. She wishes her characters were real.
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