Unlike the rooms of the knights and soldiers, Count Raymond of Tripoli's bedchamber was luxuriously furnished. Exquisite oriental carpets covered the marble floor. Precious brocade hangings adorned the walls. A fireplace spread cozy warmth. An oil painting depicting the Count's ancestral seat hung above the ornately chiseled mantelpiece. Gilded upholstered, plush armchairs were grouped around equally gilded tea tables and china vases were displayed in glass cabinets along the walls.
On the wall opposite the door, which was decorated with gilded carvings, stood a wide four-poster bed. The posts, also decorated with gold, supported the canopy and the curtains made of dark red damask fabric interwoven with gold.
The musky scent of charred wood blended with sweat and male sex lingered in the air. Andronikos' wrists and ankles were chained to the four posts of the canopied bed. The iron slave collar had been replaced by a leather dog collar. The Roman's body was flushed. Tamed by a generous dose of the devilish aphrodisiac, he was caught in the throes of sexual heat.
Raymond, wearing a pink frilly nightgown and a nightcap with a plush tassel, bounced up and down, impaling himself on Andronikos' stiff shaft. He was holding a leash to the Roman's collar. Haakon squatted opposite of him his eyes half-closed. Apart from the bracelets around his biceps and the bracers the hulking Viking was naked. He was on his knees, leaning slightly backwards and holding his body against two of the bedposts. His butt covered Andronikos' mouth and nose. Haakon moved his hips back and forth. His erect cock was sticking out of his lap. Drops of pre-cum dripped from the slit in the purple glans. Andronikos eagerly devoured the Northman's ass and inhaled the alpha smell of the big man.
The Roman's tongue, swirling in his puckered hole, elicited a guttural grunt from Haakon. He, too, had worked himself up with the aphrodisiac. Over the last few days, he had fucked the hated Roman extensively in every humiliating position imaginable. It gave him diabolical pleasure to see the look of shame on Andronikos' face as the drug wore off and he awoke from his sexual stupor.
“Oh, oh, he's coming again!” The Count squealed. He rocked his hips in a circular motion to feel the pulsating shaft inside him and moaned in ecstasy.
“Oh Andronikos,” Raymond purred in his nasal voice, “you're such a naughty bull, aren't you? Making a mess in my sweet arse again. Haakon, my big boy, he is getting soft and his spunk is oozing out of my bum. I need his tongue to clean me up. Quick, quick! Let me go over there. Chop, chop!”
“My Lord, please, let me get off first. Aargh, I am really close right now …” the Viking groaned. The hairy skin of his sack stretched over the set of bulging balls and the head of his thick cock was covered in a glistening layer of pre-cum.
“Bratty lout! Will you obey me!” The Count glared menacingly at the Viking and lifted the hem of his nightgown.
“ Pleasure me!” he ordered.
“W-what, really now?” Haakon stuttered.
“Suck my cock and suck it hard!” the Count snarled in an icy voice.
The big Viking flinched.
“Right away, my lord!” He leaned forward with a sigh and closed his lips around the Count's flaccid cock. His ass jutted upwards and between the slightly spread cheeks the puckered rosebud, still wet with Andronikos' saliva, slowly drew itself back together.
Raymond pulled the leash taut and forced Andronikos' head up towards the fat cock dangling between the muscular thighs. With his other hand, he grabbed the Viking's braid and pulled the taller man's face firmly into his lap. The muscles in his shoulders and neck stiffened as he struggled for breath.
“I said hard, you imbecile!” the earl scolded. Suddenly Haakon's head was pulled upwards, and before he realized what was happening, a powerful shot of aphrodisiac was poured into his mouth, which was instantly stuffed by the countish cock.
“Urrgh!”, the gag reflex forced the drug into his body.
Raymond watched with satisfaction as Haakon's eyes glazed over and pulled the obedient head back into his lap. “Uuumphhh …” Haakon made muffled, retching noises as Andronikos worshipped and devoured his cock while sucking the Count's hardening pecker.
The big Northman was on all fours. Raymond's perfumed lap pounded hard and rhythmically into his face. The hard cock slid along his tongue and plunged deep into his throat.
The warm mouth sucking on his cock and the feeling of being dominated by a smaller, weaker man aroused his primal desires, driving him inexorably to climax. His hips began to buck.
The cock in his mouth suddenly inflated to a surprising size. The Count unloaded his seed into his stuffed throat, triggering the discharge of his own balls.
“Uuurrgh ... ngh ... ngh!” A strangled cry escaped his throat. His semen shot out of his cock into the eagerly sucking mouth. The torturing tongue slid mercilessly over the suddenly highly sensitive glans and the mouth sucked and sucked. He desperately tried to free his cock. But the Count, in the spasm of his own climax, held him ironclad in the kneeling position. Quickly he was sucked helplessly into an immediate second climax.
Only when Raymond loosened his grip did the Northman manage to roll to the side. After the cock was pulled out of his mouth, Andronikos' head fell back onto the bed, powerless.
The Count looked down with satisfaction at the two younger, exhausted men lying next to each other, sweaty and dazed.
Maybe I should collar them both , he pondered, when suddenly the door burst open.
A Knight Templar appeared at the entrance with his longsword drawn. His face was hidden behind a cylindrical helmet. Strangely, his legs were bare. He did not appear to be wearing breeches under his chain mail and surcoat.
“What are you doing? How dare you enter unannounced?” asked the Count, bewildered.
The knight took off his helmet and Raymond met Tamer's hateful gaze.
“You!!!” the Count jumped up from the bed.
“Meet your maker, damned infidel!” Tamer lunged at the Count, sword raised high above his head.
“Guards! Heathens in the castle! Help!” shouted Raymond. He ran across the room and brought the tea table between himself and the attacking Tamer. The sword chopped the table in two. Raymond shrieked and threw a chair at Tamer. The chair immediately shared the table's fate as Tamer tried to corner the Count.
Expensive porcelain was in pieces. The painting of the Count's family home ended up in the fireplace and the brocade hangings on the walls were in tatters.
“Savage heathen!” Raymond cried out angrily
“Vile infidel!” Tamer retorted.
Desperate, the Count jumped onto the bed and drew the curtain.
“That won't save you, coward!” shouted Tamer and cut the damask curtain to pieces.
“Mercy!” Raymond pleaded. He lay across the chained Roman and crossed his arms in front of his face.
“For my brother!” Tamer swung wide.
“Uhm, now careful please?” Andronikos said worriedly.
Suddenly, a duvet was thrown over the young fighter from behind. His arms were pressed against his body and the sword fell to the ground with a clang.
“That really is a wild one!” Haakon laughed as Tamer struggled and wriggled in his arms.
Using all his strength, he managed to free himself from the blanket. Horrified, he recognized the Viking.
“No! Let go of me, infidel monster!”
“Now, now, calm down my boy.” Haakon scoffed.
With the squirming Tamer in his arms, he sat down on the last remaining armchair. Despite his fierce resistance, the younger man found himself turned onto his stomach and as he struggled, his tunic and chain mail slipped up.
WHACK! The Northman's broad hand slapped the exposed buttocks.
“No! Aw! Outch! Aw!” Tamer howled. His legs were flailing.
“You'll pay for this, wretched heathen!” Raymond approached with a flask in his hand.
“But first we'll have a little fun with you. Open your mouth!”
“Let him go!” Andronikos shouted tearing at his chains.
“Let go of me!” Tamer reared back. He shut his mouth tight.
“You'll open sooner or later.” Raymond grinned wickedly and pinched Tamer's nose.
“I'm truly sorry, but I'm afraid I must interrupt, whatever this is that's going on,” a young man dressed in white robes, baggy Sarouals and a turban covering his face leaned casually against the doorframe. He was playing with a long dagger with a narrow blade.
***
Well, dear infidel reading my story, I hope you agree that I didn't even want to know why Tamer was ass-up over a naked Northman's knee.
“That is the other one!” the Count screeched. “Kill him!”
“With pleasure, my lord.” The Viking let Tamer slide to the ground and stood up.
“I offer the greetings of the Brotherhood of Alamut.” I raised my Damascus dagger with both hands in a flourish, while I kept my eyes on the Northman, who slowly crept towards the four-poster bed.
“Assassin!” the Count breathed in a trembling voice.
“Watch out Hasan, he has the axe!” Andronikos warned, but I had already seen what the Viking was up to.
When the big man bent down to grab his weapon of choice, I had already drawn my blowpipe.
The small arrow hit the center of his right buttock.
“Aw! You little shit!” Haakon turned around and pulled the arrow out of his ass. With his axe raised, the naked hunk stomped towards me.
“You can't seriously think you can beat me with your sissy tricks.”
“The poison dart frog is a little shit too,“ I watched as his steps became unsteady. “... however, his poison is pretty strong and it works fast too.”
“What the fuck ...?” Haakon became dizzy. His knees gave way and the axe slipped from his hands. His muscular arms hung limply at his sides.
“The poison turns the muscles into mush. But you already know that, my big guy, don't you?” I walked leisurely towards him.
“All muscles but one.” I giggled.
Haakon's head fell forward. He stared in disbelief at his cock, which stood stiffly forward. I reached under his chin with the blade of my dagger and forced him to look up at me.
“I think I've beaten you, infidel.” I flicked my finger against his nose. His eyes rolled back and he fell backwards, landing on the ground with a thud.
The Count, Tamer and Andronikos all looked in disbelief at the large body lying on its back with its legs spread and had an obscene hard-on that seemed to be defiantly saluting.
“Well, I think I've made myself clear.” I turned to Tamer and handed him the dagger.
“He is only paralyzed and can hear and see. The honor of vengeance is yours, my friend.”
Tamer silently took the dagger. He nodded gravely at me and knelt down next to the fallen Northman.
“Just as you killed my little brother, you too shall now meet your end and burn in hell.” Tamer raised the dagger.
"My lord! My lord!" A knight appeared in the door.
"Hell and damnation! This is my bedchamber and no audience hall! What is going on?" Count Raymond shouted.
"My lord, we are under attack! The walls have been taken! We will soon be overrun!"
"What? How? By whom?" The Count fetched his lounge-coat from the rubble of his bedchamber.
"It is the bloody Sultan himself!" The knight reported breathlessly. "Saladin is leading the attack. They say he has just taken Jerusalem. The Latin Kingdom is no more. He has led his army to Tripoli and taken us by surprise. All is lost!"
The knight was pushed aside and the Sultan's body guard all dressed in black armor marched in. The soldiers arrested the Count and lined up along the walls.
A small elderly man, his hands clasped behind his back, sauntered into the room. He too was dressed simply in black. The bodyguard saluted.
Tamer gasped and dropped the dagger. He bowed to the floor in front of the man.
“Salah ad-Din Yusuf ibn Ayyub ad-Daweeni, mighty Sultan of Egypt, victorious King and ruler of Damascus! Praise be to you oh mighty one!” Tamer exclaimed.
I bowed politely, because Hashashin only kneel in prayer, but never in front of any human beings.
“Well, well. Tamer Ali Selcuk. There you are. Raise!” The Sultan ordered.
“You had asked for leave from my services to avenge the murder of your brother. Did you succeed in your quest?”
Tamer had risen but remained saluting with a fist pressed at his chest. He fell again on one knee. His face had turned red in embarrassment.
“Not yet, oh mighty one. I have failed. I am not worthy. A disgrace to my family!” said Tamer in despair.
“Too bad, because there's no room for failures in my bodyguard, you understand, yes?” The Sultan asked sternly. I was taken aback and felt like I was supposed to defend my friend, who had tried very hard.
“Yes, oh mighty one. Do with me as you please!” Tamer's head sank onto his chest.
“As it pleases me? Are you giving me your permission?” the Sultan raised his eyebrows indignantly.
“W-what, oh no! No, no way, um ...” Tamer stuttered. He had turned crimson. “That came out wrong. I mean, of course you don't need my permission, oh mighty one, I ... I ... oh Allah help me!”
“Allah is all-forgiving,” The Sultan pointed to one of the guards, who was holding his scimitar. He took the slightly curved weapon and lowered it onto Tamer's head.
“Ensign Tamer Ali Selcuk, you are dismissed from the service of the bodyguard.”
Then the scimitar gently touched Tamer's right and left shoulder.
“As a reward for your outstanding service, we appoint you as the Empire's permanent envoy to the Order of the Hashashin. Arise, Knight Tamer Ali Selcuk!”
Deeply shocked, Tamer straightened up.
“But I failed, didn't I?” he stammered meekly.
“Not really.” The Sultan smirked and pointed to the door, where a young soldier in the uniform of the bodyguard appeared. Tamer's eyes grew wide.
“Ahmad? My brother!!! You're alive, but how is that possible?” He rushed towards the guardsman and the two brothers fell into each other's arms.
“The infidel son of a dog thought I was dead,” Ahmad pointed with disgust at the felled Viking. “The wretch threw me into the pigsty. But some farmers were watching and found me alive. It took me weeks to recover.”
“But he said, he had your skull?!” Tamer whispered.
“He obviously played you. A devilish game for sure.” The Sultan picked up the dagger and turned to me.
“And this seems to be yours, Assassin. Sheikh Abdul praises you to the skies.” He handed me the dagger.
“That is too much praise. I am only doing my duty.” I bowed deeply.
“The Empire is also indebted to you,” the Sultan declared.
Now it was my turn to look perplexed. Saladin pointed at the Count.
“You sent a pigeon from Anjar. That's how we knew when the Count would be here in Tripoli and were able to infiltrate the fortress. You saved the lives of many soldiers who would have fallen in a siege.”
Count Raymond was dragged before the Sultan and forced to kneel down.
“Well, what shall we do with you, infidel?”
“I am a French nobleman!” Raymond spoke up. “The King of France will pay a high ransom for my release. I demand ...”
“Silence!” Saladin interrupted the Frenchman gruffly. “I am well aware of your cruelty and do not need a ransom. But I will send you back to your homeland free of charge ...”
“Oh, thank you, Your Highness, thank you so much!” Raymond mewled submissively. He tried to get up, but was restrained by the guards.
“... as a slave on one of the galleys that I am sending out with my fleet to conquer France!” Saladin concluded.
Count Raymond turned pale.
“A slave? No! You can't do that! I have privileges and ...” With a wave of the Sultan's hand, the whining nobleman was dragged out of the room.
Now the Sultan turned to the Northman, who slowly began to stir.
“And what is that?” he asked.
“It's a penis, oh mighty one,” said Tamer and I wanted to sink into the ground.
Oh Tamer, oh Tamer your mouth will always get us in trouble
“I am quite familiar with it, Knight Tamer!” Saladin glared at my friend. “I meant what's attached to it.”
“Now that your brother is alive, your revenge is extinguished. This one is mine. He will make a capable oar slave ... after he has been gelded.”
Ouch!
“Uhm …” Andronikos cleared his throat. He had been watching so far in silence.
“And this one,” the Sultan pointed at the naked Roman, “He should be a welcome addition to the galleys, too.”
“With all due respect, I'm a terrible rower.” Andronikos croaked, “And I would make an even more terrible gelding.”
The Sultan cocked an eyebrow.
“I beg the mercy of a favor, O Mighty One,” Tamer sank to one knee. “This infidel has been helpful and would be an asset as my tea boy.”
“Tea boy?” Andronikos huffed in horror.
"Shut up!" Tamer and I hissed simultaneously.
“Something tells me that making tea is not the only asset you wish him to be, Knight Tamer and assassin Hasan.” Saladin smirked and Tamer and I blushed. “Very well, the favor is yours.”
He motioned for us to follow him down into the courtyard, where the hapless Templars were rounded up. They were stripped to their braies, shackled with heavy iron cuffs and slave collars around their necks, ready to be shipped off as galley slaves.
Martin was among them. He stood there dejected, barefoot and with his head hanging down.
I bowed respectfully to the Sultan.
"Oh Mighty One, if the exalted Sultan would bestow on myself this miserable infidel as a generous favor?" I pointed at Martin.
“If this goes on, I'll probably have to row my fleet myself,” Saladin sighed. ”All right, then. Take him already!”
***
That, dear infidel, was my story. Tamer and I took Andronikos and Martin back to Alamut, where both learned the ways of the Hashashin. Sheikh Abdul Malik named me his successor and we continued the fight of the righteous. Be afraid, should you find a dagger on your pillow! But that's another story.