Chronicles of Raan

Chapter 2: The Best Night of Ibo’s Life


Just then, knocking on the door, a familiar voice. “Salif, man, you there?” Ibo D’souza.

Salif’s life was forking tonight, and he wasn’t sure who he would be in the morning – Salif the djembe player, or Salif Al-Hasn, Mage Prince of Argentia. But in either fork, Ibo was a friend.

“Reveal nothing of Argentia, of who I am.” A gritted order. This was a risk Salif took. The girl nodded quietly, naked and spread out on the bed.

“You took off in a hurry, man… I brought us some beer…” Ibo looked cheerful. “That was some concert tonight, wasn’t…” His voice broke off as he caught a glimpse of the room as the door opened, saw the girl spread out on the bed, saw Salif’s nakedness. He whistled softly.


“Some guys have all the luck…” Ibo said, ruefully. “Sorry, Salif, didn’t realize you had company. I’ll leave you alone…”

Salif made an impulsive, split-second decision. “Why don’t you come in instead?” he said, his hands sweeping the door fully open.

“Umm…”

“Leila doesn’t mind, does she?” He looked at the girl on the bed, expressionless, willing her to pick up her cue. He was placing a lot of trust in her training, but the pleasure slaves of Argentia were expensive because they were well-versed in many things, not just in the arts of pleasure.

“Of course not… Salif.” Her voice was still lyrical, only the slightest hesitation before she uttered his name.

Well-trained indeed.

Ibo looked like Christmas was coming early. “Really?” His voice was hopeful. As a musician, women threw themselves over you all the time. But Leila was a pleasure slave of Argentia. She was beyond anything seen on this world, exceptionally beautiful, and Ibo looked transfixed as he looked at her, as she lay on the bed.

“Really.” Salif’s voice was slightly amused. He’d grown up in Argentia, surrounded by pleasure slaves since the moment he’d hit puberty. Even then, he could still sometimes be transfixed by them, by their sensuality, by the way their skin felt under your hand, by the softness and the melody of their voices. Ibo wouldn’t know what hit him.

“Leila – Ibo.” Salif waved an arm in introduction. It had become second nature to observe the niceties of the world he’d hidden in for fifteen years, a world so different from his own home world of Raan.

Ibo was still looking a bit shell-shocked at the turn his evening had taken. He clutched a six-pack in his hand. Presumably, he’d thought to find Salif alone in his hotel room, the two of them drinking beer and chatting companionably about the evening’s recital. This was… unexpected.

“Would you like a beer, Leila?” Ibo’s voice was hoarse.

Leila sat up in bed, making no move to hide her nakedness. She shot a look at Salif, her training warring with his order. Pleasure slaves almost never ate or drank with their contract owners. Even Salif’s own pleasure slaves had rarely crossed that line. Salif nodded permission.

“Yes, please…” she said, softly.

She took the offered beer; they drank in silence for a few minutes. Ibo’s eyes didn’t leave Leila’s body; he looked flushed. Salif thought he should intervene to help Ibo out.

“Why don’t you touch her breasts?” he suggested to Ibo. “Leila loves her nipples to be played with.”

Whether she did or not, he had no idea, neither was it his concern. Her role was to give pleasure. Ibo took an extra-large gulp from his bottle of beer. He looked at Leila in mute permission.

“Please…” Leila said, musically, submissively.

“Holy shit man, this is insane…” Ibo muttered, but his hands had moved to her breasts. “Aww… honey, you feel like a peach, all juicy and tender…” His hands roamed over her breasts, feeling their weight, flicking his fingers over her coffee-coloured nipples. Leila bit her lip in pleasure.

Salif watched intrigued, momentarily forgotten in the sidelines. He’d never shared a pleasure slave before; men were forbidden in the harem, their lives forfeit if they were caught. No man dared the wrath of the Mage-born of Argentia.

Leila moaned, as Ibo’s hands pinched a nipple, rolling it appreciatively between his thumb and forefinger. “How’s that feel, sweet pea?” Ibo’s voice had the lilt of a born musician.

Leila only moaned in response.

“I think Ibo asked you a question.” Salif’s voice was steel.

Leila silently flashed him a look of abject apology. Her trainers would have whipped her mercilessly for this transgression, something she was undoubtedly fully aware of.

“It feels good… please don’t stop…” Her voice was a breathy sigh of need and arousal.

“Don’t hesitate to pinch harder….” Salif cut in. “She likes pain, Leila…”

Ibo’s fingers tightened on Leila’s nipples instantly, as if he’d been waiting for permission. He moved on the bed, placed one arm on Leila’s back, to hold her in place. His other hand clamped on her nipple, pulling it forward, stretching it out. Leila moaned in pleasure.

“Why yes, my peach, I do think Salif is right…. You are enjoying this, aren’t you?” Ibo’s voice was hoarser now, his arousal building with Leila’s moans.

They don’t make the same mistake twice, the pleasure slaves of Argentia.

“Yes, Ibo… please…” She answered his question this time without Salif’s prompting, her voice now a note higher as the need started to build up in her body again.

Salif moved over to the bed.

“Three holes, Ibo, my friend. Which one do you want?”

Ibo looked slightly shocked; stole a look at Leila, to see how she would react to Salif’s crude words. But Leila’s face was serene, she had heard the words and had not been horrified by the idea, and now Ibo just looked hopeful.

“I’ve never been in a girl’s ass…” His voice was low, with a thread of longing running through it. “My wife won’t hear of it, calls me sick and twisted.”

Salif had never met Ibo’s wife, but he’d heard many stories. This was going to be a night Ibo would remember his entire life.

“Take her ass then, I’ll take her talented mouth.” Salif’s voice was easy. “The bathroom should have some lotion…” Personally, Salif wouldn’t have bothered with the lotion; he knew Leila was trained to relax her ass muscles sufficiently. But Ibo would be horrified by the idea. Different worlds.

Ibo hurried off, and returned a moment later with the lotion in his hands. He still looked a little shell-shocked by the whole encounter. Shell-shocked, but oh-so-willing-to-participate.

Salif positioned Leila on the bed, doggy-style, his cock at her lips. She obeyed instantly, opening her mouth and drawing him in. Salif’s hands clenched at his side. Her mouth was talented, she was milking him with tight hot strokes, her tongue skillfully exploring his length. At the other end, Ibo shed his clothes quickly. His cock sprung up, thick and long. “Sweet little peach…” he muttered, dripping a glob of lotion on her tiny puckered hole, and using a finger to push the lotion in.

Salif could feel the force of that finger as Leila was pushed forward, her mouth buried deeper in his hard, willing cock. She moaned around him, the vibrations of her mouth adding to his arousal. His hands craved a flogger, to raise the girl to higher and higher peaks, but Salif kept the magic at check. Later… there would be time for that later.

Ibo added another finger, then a third. Now he was pumping his fingers in and out of her ass, using his other hand to spank her as she danced a lust-filled dance between the two men. She was moaning near constantly into Salif’s cock as the tendrils of pleasure from her ass started to radiate through her body.

“Use your fingers to touch yourself, you may orgasm when you like.” Salif heard his voice give the girl permission, and he inwardly grimaced. His father would have been horrified to hear of this unexpected kindness, yet another sign that Salif would be unfit to rule Argentia with an iron fist.

But I am not you, father. This girl pleases me with her compliance, and I would reward her for it.


She didn’t remove her mouth from Salif’s cock, but he could feel the gratitude in her, as she moved a hand down to her p-ssy, and started stroking herself. Salif watched her, his arousal deepening, watched her face as her eyes closed in tight pleasure at the assault on her puckered hole, the way her body clenched in response to the thrusts of Ibo’s fingers.

And now Ibo pulled his fingers out, and positioned himself so his cock was at that tightly puckered hole. “This is crazy, man…” he mumbled. He held his cock in his hand, guiding it into Leila’s a*shole, deeper and deeper, pushing steadily, till he had penetrated that final barrier, and the full length of him was buried in her butt. Leila whimpered against Salif’s cock, the music notes resonating through his cock.

“Sweet peach, you are so tight…” Ibo’s voice was a mere rasp. “I’m going to start thrusting…”

Leila’s mouth redoubled its work on Salif’s dick. Salif waited for Ibo to set the rhythm, then set his own counterpoint. The girl’s body moved helplessly between the two of them, first Ibo pushing her to Salif’s mouth, then Salif thrusting into her waiting mouth, sending her back and impaled on Ibo’s thick cock, and so on, till Ibo clenched his hands, grabbing Leila’s hips, and came with a shouted groan.

Leila’s fingers had been rubbing her *oris in her own inward rhythm, and as she felt Ibo quivering in her ass, she too came in a shuddering climax. But her training held firm, she never let go of Salif’s mouth, as she, despite the explosion of her own orgasm, kept the motion of her mouth steady, her reaction secondary to her purpose of giving Salif pleasure.

Salif felt his blood rise, felt the familiar clenching of his loins. “No, not yet…” he said harshly. He would be alone with the slave when he came. He put a hand out, stopped the girl. She let go of his cock, slumped down on the bed.

Ibo stirred himself. He silently pulled on his clothes. Salif could hear him move in the adjoining bathroom, hear the water run as Ibo washed himself. The door opened, closed, and Salif was once again alone with the slave.

“My lord prince.” She was kneeling on the floor the instant the door shut, her eyes on the ground, a tremor running through her voice. “I made eye-contact, I called you by your name, I drank in front of you, and I failed to answer a question. I have failed my training, my lord prince. I beg you to punish me.”

That damn training again. Some of it necessary, but yet, as his father had shaped the program, so much of the training designed to strip out the essence of the girl, to replace the personality within by an empty vessel, designed to hold only what the contract-holder wished.

I would change that, bring back the old ways.

“Do you wish to be punished?” Salif’s voice was harsh.

An impossible question, he knew. She would have to speak truth to him, but she may not flinch away from punishment. She couldn’t admit she feared his punishment.

She hesitated, trying to form words that would guide her out of this fissure. There were none. Salif’s eyes were cold and unrelenting.

Finally, she answered, bowed before him in the humblest obeisance. “No, my lord prince.” Her voice was the merest thread of sound. The desire to be spared punishment was counter to all her training. She didn’t rise from her position on the floor.

But Salif’s eyes were softening. The right answer. He gazed down at her sweat-sheened body, at the trembling held-in-check; part fear, part exhaustion. The girl had served for over three hours, and her muscles were trembling with fatigue.

Salif glanced at the clock. 4 am. The time swiftly approached when he’d have to make a decision. Return to Argentia and fight, or flee and hide. He had two hours at most before he must make a move. He deliberately emptied his mind, let the chant of peace and calm wash over his mind. The girl still lay bowed at his feet.

His voice, when he spoke again was crisp, commanding. “Refresh yourself, rest for a half-hour. You are going to need the energy.”

She rose to her feet, elegance in the motion. “Thank you, my lord prince.” He could hear her move to the bathroom, hear the sound of the water begin to run.