I had spotted a man in his fifties, wearing a loose white silk robe and an expensive embroidered caftan. I followed him, and when we entered a quiet, dark side alley, I snuck up on my prey and offered him a blowjob. I mean, how could an old geezer resist a strapping young man? He was in his mid-fifties, had ice-gray eyes and a closely trimmed beard that covered his cheeks and jaw.
“Salam ya Sayyed,” I greeted him respectfully, because we shall honor the elderly, isn’t it? He just looked at me.
Oh yes, old man, gottcha already. I know, nobody can resist my beautiful blue eyes.
"My mouth can open a door to paradise for you and I assure you that I can do it very well..." I purred, making him dream of a young virile man servicing him. Of course, it would remain a dream, because honestly the last thing that would happen was that I would take his probably withered cock in my mouth.
Come on! You surely have some gold on you …
My hands were quickly under his robe searching for his purse, when suddenly I felt a knife at my throat.
What the fuck?
Actually, it wasn't just a knife. It was a damn sharp dagger, artfully forged from Damascus steel, and it was nicking the skin on my throat.
Ooops, time to back off …
I grabbed his wrists, confident that I would break free from this weak old man.
Before I knew what was happening to me, I was pressed against a wall, and then the old man pushed me up by the throat with one hand only. Masha' Allah! Where the hell did he get that strength? My feet dangled helplessly as he squeezed my windpipe. Choking desperately, I tried to kick. But then I felt the damn dagger sever the sash that held my Saroual. My pants hiked down my wriggling legs, trapping my ankles. The rough wall scratched my ass cheeks.
Shit, shit, shit!
He was taking me apart. I had never been so helpless and then that fucking dagger was back. This time it was pressed against my bare balls. I froze, because the threat was crystal clear.
"My child, you shouldn't have done that." For the first time, he spoke.
“F-f-fuck off! Let me go!” I squealed.
This guy knew how to tame a young, cocky buck. He had a firm grip on me. On my throat and on my balls. To my embarrassment, I lost control of my bladder and felt my warm piss running down my legs.
As the lack of air shrouded my mind in darkness, I wondered, if I were to enter Allah's paradise as a castrated eunuch.
You, dear infidel, reading my story, may have heard that in paradise there are 72 virgins waiting to please the true believer - too bad for you! When I came to, I knew I was in paradise and one of the houris was gently rocking me. I was naked apart from my breeches which the old man had mercifully left on me, thank you very much.
Uhm … what does an old man do here in my Paradise? Those virgins are mine!!! And what Paradise is this? No dome of pearls, aquamarine and ruby but rather some dirty tent that moves and stinks like camel …
I was rocked in a howdah, a palanquin used by Bedouins to be carried by camels. I peeked through the curtains and saw the desert and I saw HIM! He was riding a camel behind me.
KIDNAPPED!!! Oh Allah, please have mercy on me! I will be a nice boy and offer you 1000 prayers, if you release me from this sheitan!
Well, maybe Allah wasn't there at that moment, or maybe he was still in Isfahan, which would be clever because we had clearly left the city and the desert is not a nice place, without water and roses and girls and …. I gnawed on my fingers and pondered what to do.
I could jump off this fucking camel and run away. As a thief, I could run like the wind and certainly faster than the geezer ... But where to run in the desert? Besides, he looked like he was a good rider. He could chase me and let his camel run me over. Have you ever been trampled by a camel? That certainly hurts! No, Hasan, that's not a good idea at all.
The rocking camel trot made me sleepy and I dozed off.
Then we stopped and the stupid camel knelt down. I was almost thrown out of the damn howdah by the unexpected movement.
Okay, that’s it! Hasan, you have to face him.
I climbed down from the howdah and of course as my sash was cut my fucking pants sagged. I hastily grabbed them to salvage what was left of my dignity.
He had set up camp with some cushions a carpet and a fire. A pot of water was boiling.
"Hello, my child. Are you finally awake?" he smiled at me, sitting relaxed on a cushion.
Was that a friendly smile or just gloating?
"Um, so ... who the fuck are you and where the hell are you taking me?" I looked around and watched the sun set over an endless sea of sand dunes.
“My name is Abdul Malik, but you will call me master and we will go to Alamut of course,” he replied.
Master??? Who the fuck does the old bugger think he is? And why would we go “of course” to Alam … Oh shit! He is a bloody killer!
It hit me like a lightning bolt. I was so stupid. I should have known. The dagger and the white robe! Alamut! The infamous fortress of the Hashshashin. The Brotherhood of the Hashshashin were cold-blooded, callous killers. No one was safe once a blood order was issued. Not even viziers, governors, or even kings and Sultans could escape.
But I had to escape. Alamut was far north of Isfahan near the Caspian Sea. It would take at least ten days to reach it. I would never return to my mother, and the old man would ...
Oh no! The leader of the brotherhood was called the "Old Man of the Mountain".
By Allah, I am so fucked!
"Fuck you, murderer! You are not my master and I will not come with you! You just got lucky and caught me off guard. I'm out of here! Let me go or else!", once again my rebellious spirit got the better of me.
“Wallahi, so much fury, so much hate, my poor child. “ He gave me an almost pitiful look. “Calm down. You must be hungry and thirsty. Sit with me and have some cake and some tea.“
I realized that I hadn't had anything to drink or eat since he captured me. Well, maybe he was reasonable after all. Now that I was awake, I could beat him. I was young and he was old, but I needed all my strength as well as this to survive in the desert on the way home.
I took the cake he offered me. He put some tea leaves in a cup and poured hot water over it, which was boiling in the pot over the fireplace.
We looked at each other in silence. I felt better now. The cake tasted nice and the tea …
“Wow! Your tea is the best I ever had.” I said light-headed.
“Then you should have some more.” He refilled my cup.
It is stupid to travel in darkness. I should better wait until sunrise, so I would not get lost in the desert.
There were some crumbs on the bottom of my cup, and I wondered what they could be, and then I must have fallen asleep.
When I woke up, I really had to struggle to open my eyes. It was so nice and cozy in the soft rocking howdah ...
HOWDAH? OH FUCK!
I jumped up and opened the curtains. It was broad daylight and we were traveling again.
"Good morning, my child." He greeted me. He rode behind me as before.
Slowly it dawned on me that the cake must have been laced with hashish and the crumbs in the teacup were probably opium. He had drugged me and I slept like a baby.
Yes, of course! That's why they call the brotherhood "Hashshashin." The killers were known to get high when they carried out a job. It increased their stamina and they felt invincible and felt no pain.
I gave him my death stare, closed the curtain, and pouted. I pouted the whole day. With each passing hour, we moved farther away from Isfahan, and Alamut came closer. I simply had to escape.
In the evening, I mentioned nothing of what he had done to me. Instead, I was friendly and polite.
I have to win his trust.
"Master, I am sorry," I gave him a languishing look from my blue eyes.
"My child, whatever it is, Allah karim, Allah is merciful. It is already forgiven."
"I was disrespectful and I was wrong to try to steel from you, oh master," I said ruefully. I sat close to his side and stroked his arm.
"Let me make it good. I promised you a heavenly blowjob..." I cooed in his ear.
Oh, this time I would succeed. I would seduce him. I would even lick his old, smelly, slobbery cock. Then I would fuck him down. If I can do it to a young, steeled palace guard, surely, I could do it to an old geezer. While he lay in the sleep of exhaustion, I would take the camels (and his gold) and escape to Isfahan.
“My child, have some cake and tea.” He offered.
Dream on, bugger!
Shit! He did not fall for it. Not really surprising. The geezer’s nuts were probably filled with sand and hot air. That was all that his pecker could produce. Even I could not bring an old withered bone back to life.
But I am not stupid. I will not fall into his trap again.
“Thank you, master. You are too kind.” I took the cake and the tea and pretended to eat and drink, however, I spat it out when he was not watching. Change of plan. I would get up early before sunrise, when he was still asleep, grab his camel and ride like the wind. He would be stuck with the fucking howdah and never catch up.
He was snoring softly, and the sun was still below the horizon. I crept over to his camel and untied it. But the damned animal refused to get up. Stubborn as a mule, it insisted on staying put and continuing to sleep.
I hate camels!
Angrily, I kicked it in the belly and that was that. It rose and let out a loud, indignant grunt.
Oh shit! What a wake-up call!
The animal was pissed off. It glared at me and bared its yellow teeth.
Oh! Oh! Not good! Not good at all!
First it roared and then it charged! I turned around, and of course he was already there. This time he was really angry. But I didn't care at all. I was about to be trampled.
"Protect me, master, I beg of you!" I screeched and threw myself into his arms.
"My child, you shouldn't have done that."
I remembered that he had said this before.
"You should not hurt an animal. The camel is Allah's gift to us. Without it, we could not survive in the desert. You deserve to be punished!" He grabbed me by the neck, the way you hold a puppy.
"What? No!" I screamed.
He put me over his knee and pulled down my pants.
WHACK!
"Aaargh!" No one had ever spanked me before.
"Fuck you! Get off me!" I cried out as blow after blow flattened my ass cheeks.
WACK! WACK! WACK!!!
My legs fanned and I tried to squirm away. Tears filled my eyes, not because it hurt so much, but the humiliation sucked.
WACK! WACK! WHACK!
After a while I got into some kind of unholy rhythm and to my utter horror, I felt a familiar tingling in my groin.
WHACK! WACK! WACK!
This can't be happening. I'm throwing a fucking hard-on from getting spanked!
WACK! WACK! WACK!
"No! Pleeeeze stop I ... I will behave ... I will be good ... Master nooooo! Fuuuck! Awww!"
My body betrayed me utterly and I, the strapping young jock, spilled my seed on an old man's knee.
I was dizzy. My body shook in the aftermath of climax, but he wasn't done with me yet. He tied my wrists together, mounted his camel and attached the rope to the saddle. And off we went. I was dragged stumbling behind the camel. Of course, after a few steps I lost my pants. The whole day I stumbled naked, cursing, pleading, crying, however, he showed no mercy.
Finally, I lost my voice, hoarse and exhausted from screaming I stumbled in silence. From time to time he offered me some water he held in his cupped hands and I gladly accepted it, licking his fingers clean. The sun burned my skin and I still do not remember how I made it through this day, but we left most of the desert behind and the landscape was getting greener.
I collapsed aside a camel, when we made camp for the night. He sat opposite from me and his ice-gray look pierced into my blue eyes.
“Come, my child, you promised me to open a door to paradise,” he pulled his Saroual down over his thighs. “Show me, how good you are.”
"Yes, master." I had no resistance left and crawled over to him on all fours. I closed my eyes and obediently opened my mouth.
"Ummphh ...," my eyes shot wide open. Something huge filled my mouth and was forced down my throat, making me gag. There was nothing withering about the cock that filled my throat. I was going to be fucked to death by a horse! Panicked, I tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let me. He grabbed my curly hair and pulled my head down until my nose was buried in the nest of his gray pubic hair. He held me there until I thought I would suffocate. Then he pulled me up, let me catch my breath, and pulled me down again. It went on like that until a deep, primal, guttural grunt signaled that he was ready. His cum filled me and squirted out of the corners of my mouth.
I was still retching and coughing when he shoved himself behind me. My butt cheeks were gently spread and to my surprise I felt his tongue licking at my hole.
"Oooohh..." my nipples and my hole are my weaknesses and he had me moaning in no time. He spit on my hole and prepared me with his fingers and then his amazing cock conquered my ass.
"Aaarghhh ...fuck! I can't!" He was too big and I tried to push him out.
"Relax, my child." Something was pushed into my mouth. I tasted the familiar flavor of opium and then his fingers pinched my nipples. The drug worked on me and my sphincter gave up all resistance.
He fucked me hard and steadily. I soon responded and met his thrusts by pushing my ass back.
"Yes, Master, fuck me! Oh yes, oh fuck, fuck, fuck!" I lost all inhibitions. I wanted him to seed me, to make me his own, but it was I who came. Untouched!
"Ahhh shiiiiit!" I howled in unbridled lust, while the sand soaked up my cum.
How could an old man have such stamina? His thrusts continued, while he fucked me in different positions, some of them I didn’t even to exist. He pulled me up and arched my back. In this position I was completely impaled on his horse dick and I couldn't help but gyrate my hips until his cock touched the love button deep inside me. Suddenly, I heard a familiar sound. The squealing of a woman lost in lustful agony. I knew this sound very well from my conquests when I had fucked the girls beyond recognition. But now I realized that it was I who was squealing.
“Fuck me! Don’t stop! Pleeeze, Master, I beg you!” I didn’t care about dignity anymore.
Ruthlessly he exploited my youthful sex drive and turned it against me. He not only made me cum in buckets, he even controlled my climaxes in a diabolical way. I moaned as his hand grabbed my half-hard cock and kneaded it back to full hardness. He tickled the hypersensitive dick head between his thumb and forefinger.
“Oh fuck! I can’t hold it. I’m cummmm … urrghh!” My back arched as I was about to be unloaded, then however, his fingers closed right below the rim of the mushroom head. My eyes bulged, while my balls were pumping against a clogged pipe. I stared at him in disbelief and then my manhood deflated in shame.
I collapsed and hit my face on the ground. He pinned me with a boot on the back of my neck. Sand and gravel filled my mouth, but I didn't care. He spanked my ass cheeks in rhythm with his relentless thrusts. He fucked my brains out and didn't stop until my nuts were exhausted and my poor pecker couldn't get hard anymore. Only then he allowed himself to climax and when his semen filled me, I knew that I was his sharmootah, his bottom bitch, and he hadn’t even bothered to shed his clothes. His geezer dick had taken me down and I had liked it.
As punishment for kicking his camel, he dismantled the howdah and made me walk. At least he gave me a caftan, which saved me the humiliation of having to run naked again. Still, I had the strong impression that the damned animal was grinning at me maliciously.
We left the desert and traveled through a greener landscape. He fed me the cake. I drank his tea without protest and so I wandered as if in a trance. Once we settled in for the night, he made me suck him off, and then he fucked me relentlessly, making sure my nuts were thoroughly discharged. We passed by my birthplace Qom, but I was so stoned and oversexed that I didn't even think about escaping.
And then: Alamut, the “eagle’s nest”, the infamous fortress of the feared Hashshashin.
* * *
The castle was perched on a rugged ridge above a green valley. The steep climb was flanked by lush gardens. Beautiful young men and girls lay on soft woolen carpets, smoking hookah and cuddling. The air was filled with the scent of roses and the typical aroma of hashish. Had paradise come to earth?
"Welcome home, my child." said my master in a friendly tone.
“Ibrahim, my child, come here.” He winked to a young man. “This is your new brother Hasan, take good care of him.”
"Ibrahim, my child, come here." He beckoned a young man who bowed respectfully "This is your new brother Hasan, take good care of him."
"Yes, sir, of course," said Ibrahim, who was wearing baggy white Sarouals. He was about my age and had the same build and height. His skin was his skin was gorgeous almond brown. The hair was cut short and a well-trimmed beard framed his cheeks. Brown eyes smiled kindly at me.
"Come on, little brother, we're going to take a bath first, because I have to tell you, you reek and look like a donkey's ass in a sandstorm." He said in a pleasant voice. My face was getting hot. He was right. After those 12 days in the desert, my body smelled really bad. It was covered with dirt and dried cum, and the few clothes I wore were ragged.
Ibrahim took my hand and led me through several courtyards where shirtless men were practicing all kinds of martial arts. My jaw dropped when I saw how quickly and gracefully they handled battle sticks, various swords and daggers.
We entered a bathhouse, and at the sight of a huge basin filled with hot water, a cry of joy escaped me. The scent of aromatic spices was in the humid air.
Ibrahim stripped off my torn clothes and also got rid of his Sarouals. We got into the pool and he began to wash my body with gentle strokes, starting from my feet, along my calves and thighs ...
Mesmerized by what he was doing, I stared with glazed eyes at his warm hands gently caressing my balls and then my shaft. My hands slid over my torso and I played with my man-tits.
"Uhhhnnggg ...!" I moaned.
"You like that, little brother, huh?" Ibrahim grinned and kissed my throbbing manhood.
He slid between my spread legs and took me into his mouth. The muscles of his broad dark shoulders tensed as his head bobbed up and down. Strong hands squeezed my ass cheeks. My hips began to jerk. I wanted to cum so badly, but he paused and let go of my throbbing cock. He watched it twitch in rhythm with my heartbeat, as if it were a snake he was trying to charm.
"You're beautiful, little brother." He gently kissed the tip of my cock. His rosy tongue sizzled over the slit.
"Uuurrrrgh," was all I could croak in response. My body shook and I could have sworn that the water in the pool had begun to boil.
His shoulders began to bob and I realized he was beating his own cock under the water.
Ma sha' Allah! Hotness!
"Oh yes ..." he moaned. His beautiful dark face contorted in bliss. Ibrahim's magnificent body reared up out of the water and he roared in the throes of climax. This breathtaking display of male sex also triggered my orgasm and made me shoot my load.
"Ahhh...", a string of hot white cum spurted high from my cock and flew everywhere. My upper body was covered and a few squirts even landed on Ibrahim's grinning face. Still recovering from his own climax, he licked the cum off my body, climbed on top of me and covered me with his athletic body. Our mouths met in a sensual, cum-soaked kiss.
From the moment we met, Ibrahim treated me as his equal. Sex with him was superhot. We fucked like rabbits. We smoked opium and we sparred.
I was included in the brotherhood’s martial arts training. Daily workouts were mandatory and my body turned into a sinewy muscle machine.
Ibrahim patiently taught me the art of sword fighting while other brothers trained me with battle sticks and, of course, the dagger made from forged Damascus steel, our favorite weapon. It was conveniently hidden in the sleeve, quickly ready for use, and an elegant, efficient way to finish off any opponent.
One of the teachers was even an infidel. He came from the distant land of Nippon, known to you, dear infidel, as Japan. Master Ryuji taught the art of ninjutsu. We learned about disguise, clandestine assassination, espionage techniques, medicine to control the human body, and unarmed combat.
I learned that the Brotherhood never called itself Hashshashin. It was a derogatory term used by our opponents who thought we were high all the time.
In reality, we used drugs to defeat them. Our arsenal ranged from potions that paralyzed or killed to those that intoxicated and removed all inhibitions.
It was exciting to learn how to seduce a target and finally finish him off with a poisoned kiss. I remembered my mother shoving opium up the asses of burly palace guards who then became wax in her hands. Maybe she was a member of a Hashshashin sisterhood?
The Master explained to us how the faithful had strayed from the path of the righteous and had succumbed to the lure of gold and debauchery. It was the sacred mission of the brotherhood to fight this evil.
This could mean consigning the evildoer to death, but sometimes persuasion was enough. One brother "visited" the Caliph of Damascus, who had gained an inglorious reputation for organizing orgies with infidel crusaders. The brother sneaked into the Caliph's bedchamber, seduced him, and left a dagger with a Koran on the pillows as a parting gift.
The Caliph understood the message and banished the crusaders from his court.
One day Ibrahim and I were summoned by the master to receive a messenger from Salah ad-Din, the mighty Sultan of Egypt, whom the infidels feared as Saladin the Conqueror.
The rider from Al Qahirah, which will one day be known as Cairo and the capital of Egypt, was covered in dust and sweat … But his, my dear infidel reader, you know already.