Chapter 7: Sunday

“I paid three hundred gold ducats for you, so you will do as I command,” snaps the old sultana.

“But he’s half mad,” I stutter in my defence.

“No, he’s not half mad. He’s completely mad. Just like his late father,” persists the sultana.

“And you intend to let him fuck me?” I quail, not liking the prospect of being sent into this madman’s cage one little bit.

“He’s the Vizier of Puskin,” replies the sultana. “He’s the hereditary ruler of this cesspit of a city. Unless he produces an heir soon then this city will disintegrate into a bloody factional war before very long.”

Personally I can think of two perfectly good reasons why that solution might be preferable. Firstly it rids this world of one of its worst hellholes, and secondly, I don’t get fucked by an insane monster. But the sultana is the vizier’s mother, and, as she says, she outbid the dozens of other eager buyers for my body. I’m her property and I must do as she says or suffer the consequences. And she’s made a point of ensuring that I understand what the consequences of disobedience will be. Being boiled in oil isn’t something I’m in a rush to experience.

“Isn’t it likely that any child that he fathers will also become insane?” I ask, clutching at straws.

“More than likely,” concedes the sultana. “Which is why my son won’t be the father of your child.”

“I don’t understand. You want me to be the vizier’s concubine but to bear a child fathered by another man.”

“See. You do understand. That’s precisely what you are required to do.”

“So I don’t need to have sex with that mon ... err ... your son?”

“Not unless you want to,” replies the sultana. “He tried to eat the last girl who ventured into his cage, so I don’t recommend that you try.”

“So I’m just pretending to be his concubine?” I say.

“No. You are officially the Vizier of Puskin’s chief concubine ... my son’s favourite slave. As such it gives you a high rank which entitles you to govern this city while the vizier is feeling a little unwell.”

Describing the vizier as being ‘a little unwell’ is like describing a hurricane as ‘a bit of a breeze’. If he was an animal he would have been put down long before now.

“What about you, sultana?” I ask. “Don’t you govern this city on behalf of your son?”

“I grow old and weary and I need to retire. I have ruled in my husband’s and then my son’s names for over thirty years. It’s been a carefully guarded secret, just as it must remain so under your rule. This is a male oriented world; women may hold the power behind the scenes, but it must always appear as though a man is in charge.”

“And do you believe that I am capable of governing Puskin?” I ask, trying to keep my voice from squeaking.

“Certainly. You are the daughter of a king, aren’t you? You know how to rule men, don’t you?”

No, I don’t. ‘How to be a good ruler’ is the last thing my father would have taught any woman, let alone me. But I suspect ‘no’ isn’t a good answer to give to the sultana at this time.

“I will do my best,” I reply.

“See that you do. Never forget that I own you, and I can be a cruel mistress if the need arises. Now, do you have any questions before we proceed?”

“Who is to be the father of my child?”

“He is waiting in the antechamber. He must leave on his travels soon, so I suggest that you use the next few hours wisely.”

The sultana escorts me to a small room at the far end of the chamber housing the vizier’s cage. I nearly collapse in surprise when I recognise the man who is waiting; Captain Jack.

“I trust your treasure chest profited from my sale in the slave market, captain,” I say. “Three hundred gold ducats was the final price, was it not?”

“Indeed, and thank you. Your display of feminine wantonness on the auction block was worth many extra ducats to me. My dealings in Puskin have been extremely profitable.”

“Hmm,” interrupts the sultana. “There are, of course, local taxes still to pay. But the captain and I have agreed an arrangement whereby those can be waived.”

“Is Emerald aware of the nature of our arrangement, sultana?” asks Captain Jack.

“She is, and you will find her willing enough,” replies the sultana. “If the two of you will follow me, I’ll show you to Emerald’s quarters and then I’ll leave you in peace for a few hours.”

The sultana escorts us to another wing of the vizier’s palace. The suite which is to be mine is about the same size of my room in my father’s castle. The room is well furnished although it is dominated by a huge four poster bed.

Fortunately for me there’s also a wardrobe filled with an assortment of clothing. Currently my only clothing is a thin transparent veil wrapped around my body which was reluctantly provided by the slave dealer in response to the sultana’s demands. It’s amazing how cooperative people become when threatened with a personal audience with the Vizier of Puskin. I don’t know how many of Puskin’s citizens know the real extent of the vizier’s madness, but other than the sultana, I’ve yet to meet anybody who is eager to find out.

“You have an audience with the pashas of the city council in three hours time, Emerald,” says the sultana as she leaves the room. “Make good use of your free time before then.”

“Well, this is certainly unexpected,” laughs the captain once the two of us are alone. “Would you like to be tied to the bedpost to remind you of your time bound to my ship’s mainmast.”

“Is that the only way you can get an erection, Jack,” I say waspishly. “To have the object of your desire bound helpless and at your mercy? If that’s so, then by all means bind me to the bedpost.”

“Don’t let your new status as the vizier’s favourite concubine go to your head, Emerald,” replies the captain. “Remember you are still a slave girl who owns nothing other than what her owner allows her. I, on the other hand, am a free man.”

“I haven’t forgotten, Jack. My mistress’s orders are perfectly clear. But as I told you once before, my body is my most powerful weapon. And your love for gold means you are just as much a captive to Puskin’s politics as I am. So let’s stop dancing with words and get down to some serious business.”

“Some serious fucking, you mean,” laughs the captain. “How about we start with a few games to put us in the mood?”

“Alas, my greedy captain, my mistress simply ordered that I let you get me with child. I have no permission to play games or provide other entertainment for you. Simply tell me what position you would like me to adopt so that you can fuck me, and I will gladly oblige.”

“This isn’t going to be as enjoyable as I envisaged,” grumbles Captain Jack. “I don’t recall there being any reticence on your part when we were on board the Red Hawk. Remember who taught you how to deep throat a man’s cock, and pretty Ruby will always remember the first man who reamed her tight arse. Why are you being so difficult, Emerald? You weren’t like this on my ship.”