Chapter 1 Wedding Night

Chapter 1 Wedding Night


That night, Scheherazad, was taken before the king and duly married. When the ceremony ended, the furniture was rearranged and his large bed was rolled into the spacious pavalion.

The pavalion was in the center of four reflecting pools and the ceiling rose up high overhead. The sultan was claustrophobic and did not like to be confined in tight spaces. Thus much of his time was spent in this vaulted chamber surrounded by a multitude of servants and security forces. Now most people might have wished for more privacy but the Sultan loathed it. Assasinations were common in these times and open areas were easier to protect than small private places. Since the king was always surrounded by his minions he hardly noticed them at all. When he felt inclined to relax with one of his wives he did it without regard to who might be standing about. It would not have occurred to him that he might be having public sex because what he overlooked or ignored had no existence in his mind. Out of habit he had curtains some nights, drawn about his bed, but he did this to block the breeze rather than keep others from seeing what he did.

Shahyrar hated these wedding ceremonies and was always glad to see them over. Still he was a religious man and scruplously followed the tenents of his faith. Taking his wife by the hand he led her up through the multitude of onlookers. When they reached the bed he had her turn around and face the crowd. They responded with loud cheering and applause. He gestured broadly motioning them to silence and thereupon turned to her, extending his arms. Falling to her knees, she prostrated herself according to custom. Reaching down he bid her rise and motioned to the foot of the bed. She obeyed, seating herself there and he came up and lifted her back further onto the cushion. His hand took one of her feet and she saw that his other was holding a cord. With this he secured one end to her ankle and the other to the bedpost. There was a dead silence in the room.

"Master, what are you doing," she asked.

"Have you no imagination?" he answered.

"I'm yours to command, oh great king, why do you fetter me?"

"So you won't run away."

"We're but newly married."

"Life is short."

"Where would I flee?"

"Anywhere, to save yourself."

"From what, master?"

"Your fears."

"Yes, I'm truly afraid, but what can I do?" she inquired.

"Lay still," he replied.

He took her other ankle and tied it likewise to the opposite post. When he finished, her legs were held apart but not uncomfortably. Admiring his handiwork, the Sultan smiled. A wind began blowing and he saw his bride shiver.

"My wife is cold," he said in a raised voice. Instantly servants moved in with screens and curtains to contain the breeze.

Scheherazad looked at her husband imploringly.

"I do not need bindings to serve you, great king,"

"So you say."

With that he straddled her hips and reaching behind, untied the fabric about her shoulders. As he did so, her two small breasts spilled into view.

"Fine, fine, very fine indeed," he offered.

"They are small," she replied, "hardly deserving of your notice."

"Truly spoken," he conceded, "Very small indeed."

He reached down with his hand, and took a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Looking closely he said, "They have the look of a lemon, but perhaps the sweetness of a plumb."

Leaning forward his lips squeezed a font of her womanhood. Then his mouth opened wide, drawing inside the fullness of her bosom, no part of which escaped his savor.

"Sweet, sweet, very sweet indeed," he offered.

When he had the taste of it, he took her by the chin and kissed her lips. Their gaze met as he pushed his tongue into her mouth. Her eyes were wide and he noticed a deep breathing which suggested to him that his nurture had not gone unnoticed.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked.

"Be silent." He answered.

"I fear the worst?"

"The worst of what?"

With that he reached down to the girdle about her hips and undid the halter pulling the gown over her buttocks and down about her thighs and calves. She strained to hide her modesty but the bonds resisted efforts to close her ankles. She tried with her hands to catch the fabric but it slipped through her fingers. Looking down, saw her nakedness staring up at him.

"Oh yes, yes, yes indeed," he marveled.

Scheherazad reached down, modestly cupping her maiden head.

"Must I tie your wrists to the posts as well?" he threatened.

"No master, I do not fear your love."

"Then what is it?"

"What the dawn promises."

"Trust me," he said.

With that her hands offered up her innocence and she reached back taking hold the lattice behind her head.

Wearying of the tension, the Sultan resolved to make an end to it. He lowered his chest upon her thighs, his lips onto the flower of her sex and with his tongue made the blossom ready for intercourse. In this he had much experience. He knew all the ways to a woman's passion, how to excite the treachery of their bodies and how, through unrelenting persistence, to insure a complete and shameless surrender. With lips and tongue he began evoking the wetness that makes supple a man's entry. His sinew, while not exceptionally long, had a girth that was wholesome, a hardness that was insistent and a stamina that continued long past the surrender of all desire.

With a groan Scheherazad pushed up with her hips pressing more fully into his mouth. She squeezed his face with her thighs and shuddered to the pleasures of his tongue. It darted like a snake, teasing the tenderest folds of her flesh. As it probed, she squirmed about with frustration. Then his mouth closed on the fruit of the flower, sending a shock through her body. His lips savored the bulb, suckling it like a grape.

She cried out in longing and began to weep.

"What's wrong now?" he inquired.

"Forgive me sire," she pleaded, "but I wish for my younger sister to be near, before the dawn comes."

"GREAT ALLAH!" He swore in exasperation. "What have I done to deserve this torment?"

"I'm sorry master, forgive me your displeasure, but I'm so afraid."

"If I send for her, will you stop your sniveling?"

"Oh yes master. If you could find that in your heart, Allah will reward your kindness. Already it overwhelms my despair and confirms to me, the power of your love."

The King rolled his eyes, frustrated by the distraction, but encouraged by her warming sentiments.

"What's your sister's name?"

"Dunazad."

He came up off her thighs, left the bed and walked over to the entry. Raising the curtain, he commanded in a loud voice, "My wife has a sister, Dunazad. Send her to us."

Outside there was a commotion and a frantic scurrying about before the quiet once again settled in about them.

The king poured himself a glass of wine and walked back over to the bed. He took a swig, swirled it about in his mouth and spit the contents into a chamber pot. He then leaned forward and looked down at her.

"Behold," he thought pensively, "the gateway to iniquity."

Extending his hand down between her legs, he slipped in his finger.

"Moist but tight," he concluded.

Taking off his tunic she saw the nakedness of his upper body. He had broad shoulders, sinewy arms and despite age, a torso that was trim and well muscled. Deeming her ready for intercourse, the Sultan reached into his corset and pulled out his prideful organ. He brandished it under her nose, waving it from side to side.

"Can your little kumquat accommodate this big cucumber?" he inquired.

"Did Allah make me a woman?" she answered.

"In truth, it appears so."

"In truth, my mother, explained it to me."

"And what did she say?"

"It was only a verse."

"Then, recite it."

So my mother said.

"When you behold the visage, and wonder at the sight
Have no fear of chanticleer, You will not die of fright."

"Did she explain the meaning?"

"Not exactly."

"Tell me inexactly."

"That a man's penis is always smaller than he imagines."

The Sultan chortled, "Hold that thought."

Mounting her, he took his member to hand. It was stiff and distended. He looked down and began guiding it into her. She squirmed to position herself beneath him. Then, reaching out, took the shaft from his hand, pulling it closer, working the head, as she coaxed it into her vagina. Sweat, bathed her body, as she groaned, arched her back and spread herself fully. Then, her straining cervix took the measure of his manhood, and it began slipping into her. As it did, she felt a stab of pain. The sharp bite surprised her. She rebelled at the unexpected shock and stiffened with dread. The King withdrew and once more pushed deeply inside. The pain returned even more excruciating.

"Please!" she cried out to him, "you're hurting me!"

He withdrew and again thrust deeply.

"Stop! Stop!" she pleaded.

A last time he pulled back and pushed cruelly inside. As she struggled to come off him, he raised up pulling his manhood out of her. It was red with the blood of her hyman membrane.

"This is always the worst of it," he said gently, as she trembled beneath him. Untying her ankles he said, "Get up now and go wash yourself, for the pain of innocence will soon give way to the pleasure of being a woman."

She raised up and went over to a basin filled with water. As she washed herself a voice called out.

"Scheherazad? Scheherazad? is that you?"

The Sultan cursed, "Have you no shame, how dare you come upon us, in this sacred moment of matrimony?"

"They told me to enter, that you had summoned me."

"Imbeciles," The king sprang from the bed, and grabbed her by the neck. "Strangled! You deserve to be strangled! Do you hear me?"

"Oh please master, I only did as I was told. Scheherazad! Intercede for me."

Scheherazad, still not herself, squinted in the darkness and beheld the king standing, naked, trembling with rage.

"Oh great king, have pity on her. Dunazad meant no harm," she implored.

The King released Dunazad and turned to face his wife. Confused emotions raged inside her and from beneath her sobs there came a giggle. She covered her face to hide the conflicts that heaved and swelled inside her chest. Beginning with a sniffle, that took her breath away, she broke into an inappropriate laughter that could not be stifled.

The king seeing her thus taken, nearly hysterical, unable to stop, looked down at himself, over at Dunazad and back to Scheherazad. He slapped his forehead in disbelief. Walking over to his wife, the king put his arms around her, and began holding her close, as emotions wracked her body. He kissed her long on the mouth and she felt her breasts tight against his chest. Then she noticed his excitement, rising between her legs and she reciprocated by squeezing tightly with her thighs. The heat of a new passion began to rekindled and quickened their desire for one another. For a long while they kissed and delighted in the warm luxury of embrace. With her arms around his shoulders and his hands on her hips they swayed in the fullness of a rich delight. At length the King sighed, took Scheherazad in his arms and carried her over to the couch. There he untied the fetters that trailed her ankles and when he finished, said to Dunazade.

"Go, take a seat there by the couch, and keep still while I consummate this marriage. Allah, who knows my pride, reminds me who I am."

With that he came once more upon Scheherazad. His penis was erect and he had a vial of oil which he poured over it. Reaching up she took hold. With a hand on his shoulder, her buttocks shifted about, guiding his eagerness into the folds of her flesh. This time, moistness softened his entry and she stretched with a warm and supple pliancy. His girth tugged and slipped as it worked its way further and further inside. Then, the length of it came to an end and she breathed a sigh of relief. Eager now, he began guiding the motion of her hips to the pumping of his intercourse. In the clutch of her arms he surged in her belly and she felt the glory trumpeting inside. Her body, teased by his pleasure, responded as he encouraged her with a gentle urging stroke. With his hands on her waist he pushed deep inside and as he drew back, her hips rose up in shameless response. This continued for some minutes while the heat of their yearning grew fevered and the tempo of lovemaking became faster. His stomach rose up and fell over her like waves upon a beach. With hands on thighs and knees between her loins, she bent backwards, stretched like a wishbone. His desire strained inside her pleading for relief. Then her climax came sending its pleasure flooding thru every pore and fiber. Her arms clutched his back and his hands came hard about her buttocks. She writhed in spasms, each greater than before until at last there came a great shudder of finality. Only then did the fever begin to subside, leaving her limp and exhausted. Time seemed suspended in motion. Atop her, she saw the Sultan, jerking frantically in the last throes of passion. Then he seemed to swell to his fullest and she felt the flood of his seed squirting into her womb. In the crowning of lust he thrashed like a snake filling her with the spit of hot semen.

For a period they lay spent in each others's arms, until at length, Shahryar raised up, kissed his wife and said, "Nice, nice, very nice indeed."

As Scheherazad was about to answer, a voice intruded..

"Oh sister, since you're not sleepy, tell me some new delightful story to entertain us . . . "












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