Another story that seems to have disappeared from the world wide web. Reuploaded for your pleasure:
"...Prince?
Oh... no, no, I am no Prince, though I can see how you might think so. This lovely home of mine in the Rajah's estate-- the finery, the luxury-- and I so young? It does suggest a strong tie to the man on the throne, but I am no blood of his-- rather, I am his humble servant.
Ah, I am no Vizir, either-- indeed, it was not all that long ago that I was a mere beggar lad in the city below, with naught but a hut, some clay pots, and what few rags clothed me.
Now, however, I am the Rajah's official Strangler.
Not at all-- I have no objections to telling you my story! I am in no hurry this fine day-- and I find it refreshing that you should want to know how I gained my good fortune. You might be surprised to learn that most people I meet seem to have little interest in my tale. For my part, I could scarcely believe it myself if it had not happened to me... Do sit, relax, try this delicious wine, and I will tell you...
My parents died, and I, their only child, was left with their only possessions: a mud-brick hut and a potter's wheel. I eked out what little living I could by fashioning items out of clay to sell at the bazaar. Water was scarce, and I had little enough to drink, let alone moisten clay with. Still, I managed to keep myself alive, and I grew as skilled at my trade as was possible under the circumstances. I could fashion a decent jug or bowl or other such item out of the stiffest clay, working it on the wheel, pressing it underneath my fingers.
Such was my life as a young lad, and for many years there was naught else but the daily struggle for a few coins with which to feed myself. Days in the bazaar baked and dried me-- at night I huddled, shivering, on my mattress of straw. This continued until I had reached eight and ten years.
Of course, the Rajah's life was (and is) far more pleasurable. There was the vast wealth, the great power, and his harem. Oh, a Rajah is a most fortunate man! And the Rajah had (and has) a most delightful collection of slaves and concubines, each one lovelier and more desirable than the last.
One such prize of his harem was Mirani, who had once been the seventh daughter of the Sultan of a neighboring country. The Sultan had discovered a plot on her part to poison him and usurp his power, and instead of merely executing her, he had given her over into slavery-- and had made a gift of her to our Rajah. No gift was more welcome, for she was exceedingly fair, and her fear over her newfound plight had made her most obedient. The Rajah was well pleased.
As time drew on, though, and her position seemed more secure, Mirani regained some of her boldness. More and more would she quarrel with the others in the harem. Her manner grew more unpleasant with each day, and the Rajah became more and more vexed with her. But before he could settle the matter...
...she escaped.
I will say this for her: She was the only one ever to succeed in such an attempt. I understand that in escaping, she managed to bribe a guardsman and kill a serving-wench. The guardsman? Oh, he was deprived of his head shortly after.
In any case... that very night began no differently for myself; tired and hungry, I had settled into sleep, and due to my fatigue, did not wake when the Rajah's men began searching the streets for Mirani.
I did not stir when, seeking a hiding place, she entered my poor hovel.
Nor was I disturbed when she lit a small lamp.
When she stumbled against one of my pots and knocked it over, the noise of its shattering did indeed bring me awake in an instant. For a moment, I had thought myself deceased and nearing the halls of Paradise-- for before me was a true vision of beauty. Shall I describe her ink-black hair, the perfect curves of her form? Or the face, those soft, dark eyes-- the fullest lips of coral...
She was holding a knife.
Holding it to my throat, she hissed at me to be silent-- I heard guardsmen pass in the city streets outside-- and then she commanded me to remain still as she stripped me naked, cutting my tattered clothes into rags with which she tied my wrists behind my back, and my feet together.
I laid there, naked and terrified, as she paced about my hut, occasionally glancing outside to see if the Rajah's men were still about. Crimson silk swirled about her as she moved-- but this was harem girl's garb, and left her clothed not much more than I was-- little was concealed from my view. Long legs flexed as she stepped from place to place, and her bosom heaved enticingly as she inhaled rapidly.
At this point in my life I had not yet been with a woman. You find this hard to believe? Ah, it is nothing but the honest truth. I was such a wretched youth, ragged, dirty with clay, and obviously penniless-- not even the drab peasant girls of the city would have me, with neither wealth nor beauty in my favor. Yet here before me was an exquisite creature, the likes of which a youth of my status might never glimpse-- not even during an entire lifetime. And, as you might imagine, the situation provoked a reaction in me...
Well, after a time she turned in my direction, satisfied there were no guards about at the moment, and saw me as I was-- most embarrassingly rigid-- and she laughed.
"Oh, base lad! Know you not that none may lie with those of the Rajah's harem but he? All others who try suffer emasculation for their efforts," she said, and laughed again. "One such as you is hardly worthy to look upon my beauty. You shall never possess one such as I, of that you can be certain." Then she brought the knife close to my neck again. "Answer truthfully my questions if you would live." After that she sought information on the lay of the city and whether I had anything of worth she might take. I answered as she demanded, and soon she was silent again, planning the next stage of her escape.
I feared her, for I had seen that her heart was cold and cruel, and that she would not hesitate to murder me if it served her purpose. I resolved to try to escape her, and, when she was not looking my way, began to strain against my bonds. Flimsy and worn was the cloth with which I was tied, and the fabric slowly began to give way as I struggled.
As I began to plot how I would rush past her into the street when I had freed myself, a cry came up from the street-- guardsmen again-- but now there was also a voice proclaiming, "For the one who reveals the escaped slave Mirani to me-- a hundred gold coins-- nay, five hundred-- nay, a thousand!"
It was the Rajah.
She looked at me, panic on her face-- I was not gagged, and a shout might easily bring guards-- and a thousand gold coins would be a severe temptation... I saw these thoughts pass across her face, and then icy resolve as she hefted the knife, moving across the room to cut my throat...
I cried out in fear, seeing this. She flinched, but continued her advance. I made an ultimate effort, and the cloth around my wrists parted. To my feet I rose, but was not quite free from the loop around my ankles, and so I lurched forward awkwardly, stumbling into Mirani as she brought the knife around. She caught me on the chin-- yes, this scar here-- then one of my hands caught her about the wrist, while the other, flailing for balance, tangled in some silk. We were falling, twisting about--
She fell backwards, and I tumbled atop her-- her legs had parted, and I was still quite stiff, and the momentum of my fall threw me forward... the silk about her nether region had torn or shifted away... in short, I suddenly found that I had been driven deep into her-- up to the hilt, so to speak-- purely an accident, I give you my word.
Her eyes widened in surprise, and, forgetting her peril, she would have screeched with rage-- save for the fall, which had knocked some of the wind out of her, so that all she could muster was an indignant yelp. I was myself surprised-- nay, stunned-- by my situation, and did not move. She tried to shove me off, to twist away from me, but my body pinned hers, and all that happened was that she shifted enough to slide a short ways up me, and then back down again. She was tight about me, and the sensation was enough to make me forget my own name.
I stared down at her slack-jawed and amazed as she struggled under me, and she glared back into my eyes with pure venom. "You dare!" she growled. "For this indignity I will carve out your heart!" With that, she tried to stab me-- but I still held her wrist. My frame looked scrawny, but years of working hard clay had left my arms quite strong, especially the hands. The knife barely moved as she strained to bring it up. Her other hand was free, though, and this she used to claw at my face.
As she muttered curses and threats at me, I began to worry-- I did not know what I was going to do next. If I let her go, if I moved off her, she was doubtless going to try to kill me. I could call for the guards-- but here I was, intimate with with one of the Rajah's harem slaves-- and for that I could be killed, or at best, made a eunuch. Without really thinking about it, I brought my other hand up-- and found it snagged in a silken scarf. From my hand, one scarlet loop traced around Mirani's neck...
I began to twist my hand around, wrapping it in silk, tightening the loop. Mirani stopped cursing as she realized what was happening, and fright played across her features. Her voice took on a pleading tone-- "Wait-- what are you doing? Don't! You musn't-- Please-- spare me and I will submit to you--" Her struggles doubled, and I took one final grasp on the silk and twisted it very tightly, cutting off her last word-- "Pleeeeeggghhk--"
Yes, I know, but that is what she said...
Her eyes widened, and she began to thrash about frantically, looking to toss me off or break my grip. Her free hand hit me about the head and side-- she kicked her legs violently, arching her back, twisting-- all the while moving herself around me as I lay there, too stupefied to move. Straining for breath, her chest flexed, breasts pressing against me-- I could feel her heart pounding...
Silk bit deep into the flesh of her throat, and she could make not even the slightest sound. Now her need for air became great-- her head whipped from side to side, jaw working, tongue swelling, pushing between her teeth... She let loose of the knife and her movements became more convulsive-- as her arm slapped the ground repeatedly, her legs kicked aimlessly, and her torso bucked wildly against mine, sliding back and forth along me, thrilling my flesh in the process-- and hers as well, for while I do not believe it was her intent, the motions of her body on mine doubtless must have stimulated her somewhat. She became more moist in that area, and, it seemed to me, warmer as she struggled against me...
And then she clenched-- both legs drew up, bent, thighs squeezing my sides, as her back arched again, her head flew back, eyes rolled upwards with fluttering lids, mouth wide open as if screaming-- and where we were joined, her flesh contracted so very tight on mine--
My own body spasmed, shaking with ecstasy. All thoughts drained away in a rush of pleasure.
In a moment, some of my wits had returned. I noticed Mirani's limbs going limp, falling to the ground, legs twitching occasionally. Her face had darkened, bulging eyes staring upwards at nothing, tongue lolling from her gaping mouth. I lay upon her, felt her heart slam against her ribs once, twice, felt her body shudder, and she contracted upon me once more. I came again, crying out briefly from the rapture I felt. When I had finished, Mirani no longer moved, and I felt no beat from her chest.
I lay there a bit, then slowly I regained my thoughts once more. I released her arm, and began to loosen my grip on the silken scarf. I pulled at it-- Mirani's head lifted off the ground, then the silk peeled away from her throat, revealing the deep red welt. Her head dropped again, rolled limply to one side. A thin hiss issued from her mouth-- trapped air in her lungs pushing out...
I tried to rise off of her, and found that I was still within her, and still rigid as ever. As I attempted to withdraw, the movement sent me into ecstasy yet once more-- and I fell back upon her, trembling. Sweat traced lines all about my body, my joints were as water, I had little strength left-- yet I showed no signs of softening.
As I rested, pondering my situation, I chanced to turn my head towards the entrance of my hut. Boots stood there. I raised my eyes, and saw a man in rich robes, gold and white-- jewels adorned his vestments, his fingers. He looked down at me, and I saw the glitter of gold on his head-- an ornate crown--
I wilted suddenly then, and threw myself off Mirani immediately, prostrating myself before the man, for I knew then that this was the Rajah himself.
He walked to where Mirani lay, and considered her for a time, nudging her in the side with a jeweled boot, her body rolling a little with each push, flesh quivering slightly. Then he turned to me, and spoke.
"Know that you have done me somewhat of a service here-- I had in mind that she should receive steel in her belly once she had been recaptured-- but this will suffice, she is dead all the same, and but for you, mayhap I had not found her. I believe I owe you a thousand gold coins."
I dared not speak, and he continued. "Yet did I witness what happened here, from the moment you twain fell (for I came when I heard you yell), and this is a serious thing, for it is unlawful for a commoner to touch those of my harem, and those who do must die. That is my law." My heart quailed, and I waited for the moment when he would command one of his guards to lop off my head, but he merely paced, murmuring, "Yes... a serious thing indeed... there is only one thing that can be done..."
"We must needs make a noble of you, boy."
And so he took me to his castle, and gave me my title (and pardoned me--the penalties for nobility who touch the Rajah's harem without permission are far less severe), my position, and I began my job. You see, the Rajah had a problem with his harem, apart from Mirani's escape. For the Rajah is well liked and respected among his peers-- wealthy nobles, rulers of other lands-- and they continually make gifts of slave girls to him. (Plus he has acquired a great many on his own. The Rajah's eye is easily caught by a lovely girl.) And though his harem is immense, still the facilities are not infinite, and he had begun to run out of room for new girls.
He is also a frugal man, and wishes to limit the size of his harem, to avoid any undue strain on his treasury. Yet, how can he refuse new gifts without offense? And indeed, he could not bear to turn away a new toy. And more, he cannot merely give used harem girls to other rulers (how gauche that would be), nor does he desire to merely set them free-- how cruel! They are untrained for any tasks outside the harem. As slaves go they are pampered and sheltered, unprepared for the harshness of common life-- abandoned to the streets, their lives would be far more miserable than mine was, if they did not soon perish of starvation. The sultan is not a cruel man...
Well, he is not an overly cruel man...
...So he determined that the merciful thing to do would be to put to death those harem girls that were in excess, culling them when they no longer had his favor. Such a task is not meet for the Royal Executioner, whose job is to dispense justice to criminals, not to merely put the Rajah's pets to sleep. (Besides which, the current Executioner-- a charming fellow, when you get to know him-- has one weakness, in that he can not bring himself to do harm to any woman. There are some interesting stories about that-- but I digress.) So a new position was called for-- and when he found me, he found his answer.
I am Strangler for the Rajah-- and it is my task to dispatch those in the harem the Rajah has discarded. It is perhaps not a profession I would have imagined for myself, but, as things have turned out, I find I have become suited to the task.
The Rajah chooses those he wishes to dispose of, and loosely ties a scarf of red silk (commemorating Mirani) about their necks. They are then instructed to report to me (and if they will not go, they are escorted). I receive them here in my quarters, where I draw their scarves tight until they lie limp and still at my feet. Many scores of women, of all types, have died by my hand...
Some plead for mercy-- others are sadly resigned to their fate. There are proud, haughty ones, who offer their scarves to me as if it was simply another part of their function. Others fight, struggling to their last heartbeat. Some even embrace me with passion as I choke the life from them, hoping to eke one last moment of rapture from the end of their lives. Many choose to drink a drug that relaxes them, takes away their fear-- so that they are almost euphoric as they die, sliding into oblivion with naught more than a few soft gasps and some gentle quivering...
Once in a while I will not complete my task immediately-- for I will find the subject fair and desirable. The Rajah has decreed that a slave who enters my quarters wearing a red scarf shall not leave here alive-- but he has not said that they must leave right away.
I have delayed their deaths for days, weeks, even many months-- in fact, I have, elsewhere in my home, my own modest harem of the Rajah's discards (a used slave is less of an offense to one of my unique status). It is perhaps the only thing that causes me to be melancholy-- for I have often heard women tell me that they love me with all their hearts-- yet none of them have truly meant it; their speech is dictated by their fear of my hands. I have delayed many deaths-- I have cancelled none. Eventually, all who come to me die.
And once in a rare while, I will be called upon to perform an execution on a female criminal, stepping in where the Royal Executioner is unable to...
Oh, but I prattle on. I must be boring you, and I see you have finished your wine, my dear. You have been charming, delightful company. Ah... the sun is setting, and I feel the air growing cooler. You must be uncomfortable.
Come here then, and let me adjust your scarf..."
"...Prince?
Oh... no, no, I am no Prince, though I can see how you might think so. This lovely home of mine in the Rajah's estate-- the finery, the luxury-- and I so young? It does suggest a strong tie to the man on the throne, but I am no blood of his-- rather, I am his humble servant.
Ah, I am no Vizir, either-- indeed, it was not all that long ago that I was a mere beggar lad in the city below, with naught but a hut, some clay pots, and what few rags clothed me.
Now, however, I am the Rajah's official Strangler.
Not at all-- I have no objections to telling you my story! I am in no hurry this fine day-- and I find it refreshing that you should want to know how I gained my good fortune. You might be surprised to learn that most people I meet seem to have little interest in my tale. For my part, I could scarcely believe it myself if it had not happened to me... Do sit, relax, try this delicious wine, and I will tell you...
My parents died, and I, their only child, was left with their only possessions: a mud-brick hut and a potter's wheel. I eked out what little living I could by fashioning items out of clay to sell at the bazaar. Water was scarce, and I had little enough to drink, let alone moisten clay with. Still, I managed to keep myself alive, and I grew as skilled at my trade as was possible under the circumstances. I could fashion a decent jug or bowl or other such item out of the stiffest clay, working it on the wheel, pressing it underneath my fingers.
Such was my life as a young lad, and for many years there was naught else but the daily struggle for a few coins with which to feed myself. Days in the bazaar baked and dried me-- at night I huddled, shivering, on my mattress of straw. This continued until I had reached eight and ten years.
Of course, the Rajah's life was (and is) far more pleasurable. There was the vast wealth, the great power, and his harem. Oh, a Rajah is a most fortunate man! And the Rajah had (and has) a most delightful collection of slaves and concubines, each one lovelier and more desirable than the last.
One such prize of his harem was Mirani, who had once been the seventh daughter of the Sultan of a neighboring country. The Sultan had discovered a plot on her part to poison him and usurp his power, and instead of merely executing her, he had given her over into slavery-- and had made a gift of her to our Rajah. No gift was more welcome, for she was exceedingly fair, and her fear over her newfound plight had made her most obedient. The Rajah was well pleased.
As time drew on, though, and her position seemed more secure, Mirani regained some of her boldness. More and more would she quarrel with the others in the harem. Her manner grew more unpleasant with each day, and the Rajah became more and more vexed with her. But before he could settle the matter...
...she escaped.
I will say this for her: She was the only one ever to succeed in such an attempt. I understand that in escaping, she managed to bribe a guardsman and kill a serving-wench. The guardsman? Oh, he was deprived of his head shortly after.
In any case... that very night began no differently for myself; tired and hungry, I had settled into sleep, and due to my fatigue, did not wake when the Rajah's men began searching the streets for Mirani.
I did not stir when, seeking a hiding place, she entered my poor hovel.
Nor was I disturbed when she lit a small lamp.
When she stumbled against one of my pots and knocked it over, the noise of its shattering did indeed bring me awake in an instant. For a moment, I had thought myself deceased and nearing the halls of Paradise-- for before me was a true vision of beauty. Shall I describe her ink-black hair, the perfect curves of her form? Or the face, those soft, dark eyes-- the fullest lips of coral...
She was holding a knife.
Holding it to my throat, she hissed at me to be silent-- I heard guardsmen pass in the city streets outside-- and then she commanded me to remain still as she stripped me naked, cutting my tattered clothes into rags with which she tied my wrists behind my back, and my feet together.
I laid there, naked and terrified, as she paced about my hut, occasionally glancing outside to see if the Rajah's men were still about. Crimson silk swirled about her as she moved-- but this was harem girl's garb, and left her clothed not much more than I was-- little was concealed from my view. Long legs flexed as she stepped from place to place, and her bosom heaved enticingly as she inhaled rapidly.
At this point in my life I had not yet been with a woman. You find this hard to believe? Ah, it is nothing but the honest truth. I was such a wretched youth, ragged, dirty with clay, and obviously penniless-- not even the drab peasant girls of the city would have me, with neither wealth nor beauty in my favor. Yet here before me was an exquisite creature, the likes of which a youth of my status might never glimpse-- not even during an entire lifetime. And, as you might imagine, the situation provoked a reaction in me...
Well, after a time she turned in my direction, satisfied there were no guards about at the moment, and saw me as I was-- most embarrassingly rigid-- and she laughed.
"Oh, base lad! Know you not that none may lie with those of the Rajah's harem but he? All others who try suffer emasculation for their efforts," she said, and laughed again. "One such as you is hardly worthy to look upon my beauty. You shall never possess one such as I, of that you can be certain." Then she brought the knife close to my neck again. "Answer truthfully my questions if you would live." After that she sought information on the lay of the city and whether I had anything of worth she might take. I answered as she demanded, and soon she was silent again, planning the next stage of her escape.
I feared her, for I had seen that her heart was cold and cruel, and that she would not hesitate to murder me if it served her purpose. I resolved to try to escape her, and, when she was not looking my way, began to strain against my bonds. Flimsy and worn was the cloth with which I was tied, and the fabric slowly began to give way as I struggled.
As I began to plot how I would rush past her into the street when I had freed myself, a cry came up from the street-- guardsmen again-- but now there was also a voice proclaiming, "For the one who reveals the escaped slave Mirani to me-- a hundred gold coins-- nay, five hundred-- nay, a thousand!"
It was the Rajah.
She looked at me, panic on her face-- I was not gagged, and a shout might easily bring guards-- and a thousand gold coins would be a severe temptation... I saw these thoughts pass across her face, and then icy resolve as she hefted the knife, moving across the room to cut my throat...
I cried out in fear, seeing this. She flinched, but continued her advance. I made an ultimate effort, and the cloth around my wrists parted. To my feet I rose, but was not quite free from the loop around my ankles, and so I lurched forward awkwardly, stumbling into Mirani as she brought the knife around. She caught me on the chin-- yes, this scar here-- then one of my hands caught her about the wrist, while the other, flailing for balance, tangled in some silk. We were falling, twisting about--
She fell backwards, and I tumbled atop her-- her legs had parted, and I was still quite stiff, and the momentum of my fall threw me forward... the silk about her nether region had torn or shifted away... in short, I suddenly found that I had been driven deep into her-- up to the hilt, so to speak-- purely an accident, I give you my word.
Her eyes widened in surprise, and, forgetting her peril, she would have screeched with rage-- save for the fall, which had knocked some of the wind out of her, so that all she could muster was an indignant yelp. I was myself surprised-- nay, stunned-- by my situation, and did not move. She tried to shove me off, to twist away from me, but my body pinned hers, and all that happened was that she shifted enough to slide a short ways up me, and then back down again. She was tight about me, and the sensation was enough to make me forget my own name.
I stared down at her slack-jawed and amazed as she struggled under me, and she glared back into my eyes with pure venom. "You dare!" she growled. "For this indignity I will carve out your heart!" With that, she tried to stab me-- but I still held her wrist. My frame looked scrawny, but years of working hard clay had left my arms quite strong, especially the hands. The knife barely moved as she strained to bring it up. Her other hand was free, though, and this she used to claw at my face.
As she muttered curses and threats at me, I began to worry-- I did not know what I was going to do next. If I let her go, if I moved off her, she was doubtless going to try to kill me. I could call for the guards-- but here I was, intimate with with one of the Rajah's harem slaves-- and for that I could be killed, or at best, made a eunuch. Without really thinking about it, I brought my other hand up-- and found it snagged in a silken scarf. From my hand, one scarlet loop traced around Mirani's neck...
I began to twist my hand around, wrapping it in silk, tightening the loop. Mirani stopped cursing as she realized what was happening, and fright played across her features. Her voice took on a pleading tone-- "Wait-- what are you doing? Don't! You musn't-- Please-- spare me and I will submit to you--" Her struggles doubled, and I took one final grasp on the silk and twisted it very tightly, cutting off her last word-- "Pleeeeeggghhk--"
Yes, I know, but that is what she said...
Her eyes widened, and she began to thrash about frantically, looking to toss me off or break my grip. Her free hand hit me about the head and side-- she kicked her legs violently, arching her back, twisting-- all the while moving herself around me as I lay there, too stupefied to move. Straining for breath, her chest flexed, breasts pressing against me-- I could feel her heart pounding...
Silk bit deep into the flesh of her throat, and she could make not even the slightest sound. Now her need for air became great-- her head whipped from side to side, jaw working, tongue swelling, pushing between her teeth... She let loose of the knife and her movements became more convulsive-- as her arm slapped the ground repeatedly, her legs kicked aimlessly, and her torso bucked wildly against mine, sliding back and forth along me, thrilling my flesh in the process-- and hers as well, for while I do not believe it was her intent, the motions of her body on mine doubtless must have stimulated her somewhat. She became more moist in that area, and, it seemed to me, warmer as she struggled against me...
And then she clenched-- both legs drew up, bent, thighs squeezing my sides, as her back arched again, her head flew back, eyes rolled upwards with fluttering lids, mouth wide open as if screaming-- and where we were joined, her flesh contracted so very tight on mine--
My own body spasmed, shaking with ecstasy. All thoughts drained away in a rush of pleasure.
In a moment, some of my wits had returned. I noticed Mirani's limbs going limp, falling to the ground, legs twitching occasionally. Her face had darkened, bulging eyes staring upwards at nothing, tongue lolling from her gaping mouth. I lay upon her, felt her heart slam against her ribs once, twice, felt her body shudder, and she contracted upon me once more. I came again, crying out briefly from the rapture I felt. When I had finished, Mirani no longer moved, and I felt no beat from her chest.
I lay there a bit, then slowly I regained my thoughts once more. I released her arm, and began to loosen my grip on the silken scarf. I pulled at it-- Mirani's head lifted off the ground, then the silk peeled away from her throat, revealing the deep red welt. Her head dropped again, rolled limply to one side. A thin hiss issued from her mouth-- trapped air in her lungs pushing out...
I tried to rise off of her, and found that I was still within her, and still rigid as ever. As I attempted to withdraw, the movement sent me into ecstasy yet once more-- and I fell back upon her, trembling. Sweat traced lines all about my body, my joints were as water, I had little strength left-- yet I showed no signs of softening.
As I rested, pondering my situation, I chanced to turn my head towards the entrance of my hut. Boots stood there. I raised my eyes, and saw a man in rich robes, gold and white-- jewels adorned his vestments, his fingers. He looked down at me, and I saw the glitter of gold on his head-- an ornate crown--
I wilted suddenly then, and threw myself off Mirani immediately, prostrating myself before the man, for I knew then that this was the Rajah himself.
He walked to where Mirani lay, and considered her for a time, nudging her in the side with a jeweled boot, her body rolling a little with each push, flesh quivering slightly. Then he turned to me, and spoke.
"Know that you have done me somewhat of a service here-- I had in mind that she should receive steel in her belly once she had been recaptured-- but this will suffice, she is dead all the same, and but for you, mayhap I had not found her. I believe I owe you a thousand gold coins."
I dared not speak, and he continued. "Yet did I witness what happened here, from the moment you twain fell (for I came when I heard you yell), and this is a serious thing, for it is unlawful for a commoner to touch those of my harem, and those who do must die. That is my law." My heart quailed, and I waited for the moment when he would command one of his guards to lop off my head, but he merely paced, murmuring, "Yes... a serious thing indeed... there is only one thing that can be done..."
"We must needs make a noble of you, boy."
And so he took me to his castle, and gave me my title (and pardoned me--the penalties for nobility who touch the Rajah's harem without permission are far less severe), my position, and I began my job. You see, the Rajah had a problem with his harem, apart from Mirani's escape. For the Rajah is well liked and respected among his peers-- wealthy nobles, rulers of other lands-- and they continually make gifts of slave girls to him. (Plus he has acquired a great many on his own. The Rajah's eye is easily caught by a lovely girl.) And though his harem is immense, still the facilities are not infinite, and he had begun to run out of room for new girls.
He is also a frugal man, and wishes to limit the size of his harem, to avoid any undue strain on his treasury. Yet, how can he refuse new gifts without offense? And indeed, he could not bear to turn away a new toy. And more, he cannot merely give used harem girls to other rulers (how gauche that would be), nor does he desire to merely set them free-- how cruel! They are untrained for any tasks outside the harem. As slaves go they are pampered and sheltered, unprepared for the harshness of common life-- abandoned to the streets, their lives would be far more miserable than mine was, if they did not soon perish of starvation. The sultan is not a cruel man...
Well, he is not an overly cruel man...
...So he determined that the merciful thing to do would be to put to death those harem girls that were in excess, culling them when they no longer had his favor. Such a task is not meet for the Royal Executioner, whose job is to dispense justice to criminals, not to merely put the Rajah's pets to sleep. (Besides which, the current Executioner-- a charming fellow, when you get to know him-- has one weakness, in that he can not bring himself to do harm to any woman. There are some interesting stories about that-- but I digress.) So a new position was called for-- and when he found me, he found his answer.
I am Strangler for the Rajah-- and it is my task to dispatch those in the harem the Rajah has discarded. It is perhaps not a profession I would have imagined for myself, but, as things have turned out, I find I have become suited to the task.
The Rajah chooses those he wishes to dispose of, and loosely ties a scarf of red silk (commemorating Mirani) about their necks. They are then instructed to report to me (and if they will not go, they are escorted). I receive them here in my quarters, where I draw their scarves tight until they lie limp and still at my feet. Many scores of women, of all types, have died by my hand...
Some plead for mercy-- others are sadly resigned to their fate. There are proud, haughty ones, who offer their scarves to me as if it was simply another part of their function. Others fight, struggling to their last heartbeat. Some even embrace me with passion as I choke the life from them, hoping to eke one last moment of rapture from the end of their lives. Many choose to drink a drug that relaxes them, takes away their fear-- so that they are almost euphoric as they die, sliding into oblivion with naught more than a few soft gasps and some gentle quivering...
Once in a while I will not complete my task immediately-- for I will find the subject fair and desirable. The Rajah has decreed that a slave who enters my quarters wearing a red scarf shall not leave here alive-- but he has not said that they must leave right away.
I have delayed their deaths for days, weeks, even many months-- in fact, I have, elsewhere in my home, my own modest harem of the Rajah's discards (a used slave is less of an offense to one of my unique status). It is perhaps the only thing that causes me to be melancholy-- for I have often heard women tell me that they love me with all their hearts-- yet none of them have truly meant it; their speech is dictated by their fear of my hands. I have delayed many deaths-- I have cancelled none. Eventually, all who come to me die.
And once in a rare while, I will be called upon to perform an execution on a female criminal, stepping in where the Royal Executioner is unable to...
Oh, but I prattle on. I must be boring you, and I see you have finished your wine, my dear. You have been charming, delightful company. Ah... the sun is setting, and I feel the air growing cooler. You must be uncomfortable.
Come here then, and let me adjust your scarf..."
