Tamerlane's Boys 14

By Pueros

Chapter 14 – Traitors

(Persia, June 1392)

Unfortunately for Vissarion, Arman and Nicolai, it was Reza who next entered the dank chamber where the three boys were painfully suspended naked from the ceiling, their splayed wrists and ankles already red raw as the manacles bit into their young flesh. The warlord was obviously attired for heavy work, as he wore no turban or upper clothing, only baggy trousers of tough material and leather boots. His chest was revealed as being covered in a thick black hirsute mat.

Reza was accompanied by a pretty boy, aged 10, and two girls, aged 15. It was obvious from their demeanour and dress that the young male was of some importance whilst the females were probably servants. Their status was soon clarified.

The girls tried to stifle giggles at the sight of the young suspended nudes awaiting punishment and torture. However, their attempt not to displease their master by showing outward hilarity was overcome when he announced proudly to the young male, whose bland expression actually hid intense emotion, “Rezan, my son, these are Tamerlane’s famous boys, come into my possession. You have asked to see them before I encourage them to submit to my will. You may therefore have your fill of the sight, as may your servants, whilst I attend to other matters. I shall return shortly to perform my work, with which you may assist if you want.”

As Reza turned to leave, the girls could not effectively stifle their titters anymore, especially as they had come close to the dangling naked threesome and noticed that two were without balls. However, their master only smiled and did not admonish them for their effrontery as he left the chamber. He wanted the recalcitrant trio’s spirit crushed as quickly as possible and so the more humiliation heaped upon them the better. It was the reason behind allowing his wife and son, accompanied by their female attendants, to visit the young prisoners in their shameful and painful circumstances. He would therefore not have appreciated his heir’s reaction to his servants’ chortling but was out of hearing range when it was delivered.

“Stop that now,” Rezan commanded the girls with stern authority, “or I’ll see you chained up naked alongside Tamerlane’s boys, ready to receive the same chastisement.” The amused expressions displayed on his female servants’ faces immediately disappeared, along with the sounds of their giggling.

“That’s better,” Rezan observed before ordering, “now go and stand by the door while I look our guests over.” The girls reluctantly complied, foiled at fulfilling their desire to fondle and verbally abuse the famous and very pretty boys of Tamerlane.

Once the girls had assumed the requested position, Reza’s nearly eponymous son walked slowly round Vissarion, Arman and Nicolai. He examined their beautiful forms carefully with his eyes, as if they were works of art, which, in fact, they were, although manmade only in terms of the acts of loving procreation and rearing. When Rezan had eventually returned to the dangling nudes’ fronts, he whispered to the hurting and scared threesome, apparently confident that his servants could not overhear.

“I regret that your capture by my father has resulted in this,” Rezan announced with seeming maturity that belied his tender years, “and I also regret to advise you that I have failed to dissuade my parent from pursuing the action he is intent on. Nevertheless, I’m happy to have another attempt if you’re prepared to tell me now that you’ll submit to his will.” However, despite this offer, Vissarion, Arman and Nicolai remained resolutely and probably foolishly silent, none of them wanting to appear a coward in the eyes of their friends.

“Pity,” Rezan continued, “but, believe me, I understand your position and have great admiration for your brave stance. However, there’s no shame in submitting now. You’ve made your point and stand but you must realise that the objects in this room will make you reverse your position eventually. It’s inevitable, so please, for my sake and your own, take the sensible step now. Let me tell my father that you apologise and will accept his authority.” However, after the boy had spoken, the silence in the sinister cool chamber returned, apart from the occasional rattling of chains as those suspended from the ceiling tried to make the distress to their wrists and ankles less disagreeable.

“So be it,” Rezan therefore finally declared, “and I’m sorry. However, I promise you that I’ll ensure that you receive the best care after my father is done. I believe that he intends to see to that anyway, wanting you to recover without permanent damage from what you’re about to endure, if only to maintain your market price, but some of our servants are lazy and incompetent. Their idleness and mistakes could cost your bodies dear, but I’ll make sure that that doesn’t happen. Meanwhile, all that I can suggest is to maintain your courage, as I’m positive that the future holds much better for you.” The pretty brown eyed and haired 10 years old, richly garbed in colourful silk turban, shirt and trousers and wearing exotic slippers, did not elaborate what he meant by his optimistic last statement. Instead, after taking in the full sight of Tamerlane’s boys once last time, he turned reluctantly and sadly to begin to leave the scene.

As Rezan walked away from Vissarion, Arman and Nicolai towards his female servants at the doorway, he heard a voice behind him quietly utter “Thank you!” He stopped and turned to see who might have said the words but was unable to identify the young prisoner who had acknowledged his attempt to help. However, the diversion from his intended path allowed all three of Tamerlane’s boys to notice that their would-be saviour’s eyes were now clearly damp.

Vissarion, Arman and Nicolai were soon alone once more but the tremulous threesome was not so for long. Reza returned, with his son and female servants again in tow.

Rezan had sought his father out to beg once more for mercy for Tamerlane’s boys. Reza had been displeased with his son’s entreaties and apparent concern for the welfare of the three defiant young prisoners and had dismissed the approach out of hand. He did not understand his offspring’s compassionate attitude, or the motives behind it, as it was totally out of character for his traditionally self-seeking, aggressive and ruthless family.

Reza regarded his son’s proposal that Tamerlane’s boys be treated not only with leniency but also as valued visitors, who should be returned to their master, as ridiculous. The reasons his heir had given included “because Allah decrees that guests should be honoured not maltreated” and “the conqueror will reek terrible vengeance on all of us in retaliation”, which the warlord considered to be respectively religious drivel and cowardly pretension. He worried for the future welfare of his clans if they eventually came under the rule of such a gentle and timid person.

Reza was therefore determined to toughen his son and heir up for his eventual succession. His offspring had to learn to be selfish and ruthless to be a successful warlord and he would begin by helping his father bring Tamerlane’s boys into line.

Rezan knew from bitter experience not to go too far in his entreaties or they might rebound not only on himself but also on the subject of his pleas. The boy had never forgotten or forgiven his father throwing his puppy out of a high window of the tall hill fortress in which they lived. The pet had nipped the warlord’s ankle when the man had struck his son in retaliation for an accidentally curt remark, taken the wrong way by the recipient. The then 9 years old’s subsequent desperate begging for the dog’s life had resulted not only in the animal’s death but also in a severe beating for the owner. The resultant bruises had taken weeks to clear up. The mental scars from that cruel incident, and others alike, had never healed.

Aware of Reza's latent and easily invigorated brutality, even to his closest family, Rezan had also learnt not to disobey his father. The adult’s harsh order to return to the torture chamber to participate in the delivery of the torments being applied to Tamerlane’s boys could therefore simply not be ignored. However, the son and heir’s young female servants took the command rather differently, looking forward not only to watching the young prisoners suffer but also to assisting the process, as the warlord had advised them that they could actively help too.

(Persia, July 1392)

“How do you all feel this morning?” Rezan asked of Vissarion, Arman and Nicolai, as he entered their not unpleasant accommodation, something that he had done several times a day for almost the past month in the company of his father’s most proficient medically trained servant. “Fine,” the young Georgian answered, not uncommonly, on behalf of all three young prisoners.

“Good,” Rezan declared, “but I hope you won’t mind us checking again.” Vissarion, Arman and Nicolai did not. They had become accustomed to the regular daily scrutiny and recuperative ministrations applied to their bodies by the 10 years old and his competent adult assistant since the terrible day in the torture chamber. Affront at having some of the most private parts of their bodies intimately inspected and tended had never been present from the beginning, such was their desperate desire for remedial treatment to heal their many wounds, all agonisingly but skilfully created to avoid permanent harm. Reza had tolerated his son’s desire to supervise the recovery of the young prisoners because he had plans for their restored bodies and knew that his heir, given his attitude, would supervise the restitution process well.

Rezan and the servant proceeded to help Tamerlane’s boys undress, from the simple clean tunics they had been granted as soon as their sore bodies could bear the touch of a cloth covering. As the former did so, he realised that he could not delay his father from summoning them to service for much longer. It was obvious that Vissarion, Arman and Nicolai were almost fully healed and he reluctantly felt obliged to tell them so.

After some initial guilty dithering, Rezan himself had been compelled to apply the vicious clamps to the boys’ nipples, gradually adding the weights that had so distorted their tits. He had also been forced to fix similar attachments to the cocks of Vissarion and Nicolai and to the still fully intact genital array sported by Arman. The latter’s balls had suffered tremendously.

Rezan’s early hesitation had been overcome not only by a threat of a beating from his father, which the boy’s young female servants would have enjoyed watching, but also by a whisper from the first intended victim. “Go ahead,” Vissarion had requested, “as I don’t want you to suffer for our sake,” in a voice that the 10 years old recognised as being the same as the one that had thanked him earlier for his compassion. However, Reza had overheard the young Georgian’s plea and rewarded him with several harsh smacks from his substantial right palm across the 15 years old’s lustrous buttocks, now reddened by the assault. "Don't you dare give orders to my son," the warlord shouted as he proceeded with the nasty spanking.

The manual attack caused Vissarion’s chains to rattle again and, as a consequence, some blood began to trickle from his raw wrists. Rezan saw that his well-intentioned hesitation to comply with his father’s instructions was only making matters worse. He therefore reluctantly stepped on the stool, drawn up for the purpose, and applied the severe clamps to the young Georgian’s nipples, immediately inducing an agonised facial contortion and anguished groan from the young victim.

Unlike their young master, who took no delight whatsoever in what he was doing, the young female servants gained great pleasure not only from close up views of the boys’ suffering naked privates but also from beating their nude rears with paddles and switches under the careful supervision of Reza. Despite being only 15 years of age, the same as Vissarion and Arman and three years older than Nicolai, the girls had entered into their tasks so enthusiastically that the backs of their victims were soon covered from neck to ankle in a myriad of dark red stripes. This time, in his father’s presence, Rezan had been unable to prevent their loud gleeful feminine tittering, as they enthusiastically proceeded to beat the young prisoners with their wooden implements.

Throughout all this, Reza had frequently reminded Tamerlane’s tearful boys that they only had to announce their submission to his complete authority for him to consider the termination of proceedings. However, the only utterances emerging from the mouths of the still bravely defiant young Georgian, Armenian and Muscovite remained regular sobs and yelps, as their agonising torments proceeded.

It was Reza himself who picked up the enormously long whip, the implement being considered too heavy for his 10 years old son and 15 years old female servants to employ effectively. The idea was to whip all three of Tamerlane’s boys at the same time but it worked too well, simultaneously breaking the skin to form bloody lines across the squealing young victims’ already battered backs and buttocks. The warlord, still intent on maintaining the young prisoners’ market value by causing no permanent damage, therefore desisted after six vicious blows, but with reluctance as the recipients of the wicked lashes remained remarkably obdurate.

Reza could not help but admire Vissarion, Arman and Nicolai for this, particularly as he had seen grown warriors of formidable reputation broken far more easily in this very chamber. However, his determination to destroy the boys’ resistance to his will remained and he pondered how best this could now be achieved.

Reza’s solution was one that he should have used at the beginning. One of the reasons for the boys’ courageous resolution was their unity in anguish, each determined not to be the one to be the traitor to their defiant cause. Thus, when the warlord began to threaten them individually in order to blackmail the others, their resistance was finally quickly overcome.

Reza now simply remembered his wife’s suggestion, made for reasons of trade not torture but effective nonetheless. “I now propose to castrate the young Armenian here,” the warlord announced to Vissarion and Nicolai, as he removed the clamps wickedly squeezing Arman’s testicles and stretching his penis, which, once free, amazingly rose vertically to full erection, “unless you surrender unquestioningly to my service. I’m happy to do so as the procedure will also make him more valuable for future resale.”

As Reza secured a knife to rest the sharp blade against the upper rear of Arman’s ball sac, he did not add that he intended to geld the young Armenian eventually anyway for the very reason given. This would happen despite the boy’s Moslem faith, for the warlord had to admit that his spouse did come up with the occasional good idea. As the man applied the threatening steel, he ignored his imminent victim’s rampant cock, dribbling precum. However, the admiring female observers could not reciprocate this act, being unable to divert their gaze from their fellow 15 years old’s estimable throbbing penis, hopefully soon to be rendered forever soft.

It was Vissarion who broke the stalemate. “Please don’t do that,” he begged between sobs, “as I submit.” His statement was quickly followed by a similar one from Nicolai, despite Arman’s game pleas for his friends not to succumb to the blackmail. Reza smirked as he withdrew the blade from the young Armenian’s full scrotum but the smile was wiped from the watching girls’ faces. They had eagerly been looking forward to seeing a real castration take place, particularly as the potential young victim was so attractive.

“Do you submit too,” Reza asked of Arman, “or do I have to cut the cocks of your companions off to persuade you?” “I submit as well,” replied the defeated, dejected, shamed, pained and crying young Armenian, whilst still displaying a rabid hard-on.

Four weeks later, Vissarion, Arman and Nicolai were finally fully recovered and, freshly bathed, groomed and attired in new short black tunics, presented to Reza. However, the warlord was not alone for twelve rich Arabs were with him, splendidly attired in the largely white head-dresses and flowing robes of their people.

Reza had told only his wife of his change of plans, so his son was ignorant of the reasons for the visitors’ arrival.

In fact, the Arabs’ presence had been stimulated by reports that some squadrons of Tamerlane’s army were heading into south-west Persia. Reza was not particularly alarmed, as he was very confident that the conqueror was unaware that he held his boys. However, he had decided to take his wife’s advice and, as a precaution, dispose of the young Georgian, Armenian and Muscovite as soon as they were in a fit enough state to be sold.

It had meant that Reza had no time to enjoy the bodies of Tamerlane’s boys or to castrate the young Armenian to increase his value. However, he considered such sacrifices to be wise in the circumstances, especially as the price he would receive for such young trophies was expected to be considerable. The warlord had also organised a private auction, with only the most trusted and discreet of rich Arabs with particular tastes invited. He did not anticipate any great loss in competition for the goods as a result of the switch from public sale, given that the men present would probably have been at the forefront of the bidding wherever it took place.

Reza and his guests were arrayed in comfortable chairs in the fortress’ largest and most resplendent chamber, reserved for entertaining. They sat around three small low round platforms with mirrored surfaces, located a couple of paces apart and specially made for the occasion, on credit, at the warlord’s command. The previously spendthrift but now necessarily parsimonious man did not propose to retain the furniture after use but to return it as unsuitable to avoid payment.

An adult male servant holding a small but threatening crop, obviously designed to ensure that Tamerlane’s boys remained true to their commitment to submit to Reza’s authority, led each young prisoner into the chamber and to a platform apiece. Vissarion, Arman and Nicolai had not been informed of their imminent destiny but, from the setting, it was apparent to all three what was now to take place. They did not want to be meekly sold and taken into possible separate Arab ownership, presumably south into the harsh deserts of Arabia, largely unknown to outsiders and where surely even the great conqueror would not follow. However, all three had been brought up to honour their word, an admirable custom reinforced here by the nearby leather punishment implements and the undoubted prospect of a return to the torture chamber for any relapse. They therefore quietly resigned themselves to obedience and their fate.

“Strip!” Reza loudly commanded of Tamerlane’s boys, who reluctantly felt obliged to comply. Soon, their only cover, their new tunics, was in those hands of their attendant servants not occupied by the crops.

All three boys tried instinctively to hide their privates with their own hands but this attempt to retain some modesty was quickly quashed by another instruction from Reza. “Place your hands on your heads and stand with your legs wide apart,” he ordered. Soon three young sets of genitalia came into the view of those sitting in front of the platforms, with the one sported by the uncastrated Arman beginning to display an unruly and, for the young Armenian, thoroughly humiliating erection. His young beautiful face therefore reddened even more than those of his companions.

Reza then addressed his universally bearded Arab guests, who were all sipping goblets of wine despite Moslem prescription against the consumption of alcohol. “Friends,” he announced, “these are Tamerlane’s boys, now available for your comprehensive examination before the auction. Please take as long as you want to survey the goods on offer.”

Vissarion, Arman and Nicolai had all suffered some very embarrassing experiences but, at this moment in time, none of them felt that any had been worse than this, as the dozen Arabs rose to their feet and began to peruse the items for sale very closely. The men split up to stroll slowly round each platform, gaining visual perspectives of the boys from all angles, either directly or via the mirrors below each of them. The prospective purchasers also prodded and probed the young Georgian, Armenian and Muscovite very intimately, with young mouths, genitalia, buttocks and anuses receiving much special attention.

In the middle of all this degrading scrutiny, Vissarion and Nicolai jumped suddenly when they heard the unmistakable loud crash of stinging leather hit young flesh, followed by an equally robust yelp and three more repetitions of the sequence. They turned their heads to see Arman’s bottom being flogged whilst Reza had rushed to one of the Arabs standing immediately in front of the young Armenian. The latter, despite the flagellation of his rear, was somehow managing to maintain his demeaning stance. His friends admired his fortitude but it had actually been stimulated by fear of further agonising retribution if he adopted a more defensive pose.

The reason for the whole scenario soon became clear to Vissarion and Nicolai when they noticed white fluid dribbling from their friend’s still rampant cockhead whilst similar substance was being wiped off an aggrieved Arab’s robes by the host. Apparently, Arman’s genitals had only been able to take so much manual examination of their very pleasant form before expelling the stored contents. It was one of the few times that the young Georgian and Muscovite were glad to be eunuchs.

The time eventually came for the bidding phase of the auction. It was launched by comments from Reza that he was “sure that ownership of such magnificent prizes will attract much interest, which will be reflected in the final valuation, for the goods on offer are not only of rare splendour but also of unparalleled rarity. After all, how often do Tamerlane’s own boys come onto the market?” The warlord was obviously playing not only on the prospective purchasers’ attraction to the lovely forms of Vissarion, Arman and Nicolai but also their desire to own, and boast to their own kind about, their possession of the conqueror’s famous catamites.

It was quickly clear that Reza’s salesmanship had worked, with bids of enormous scale rapidly being attained, even for the supposedly less valuable uncastrated Arman. The latter did not know it but his balls were undoubtedly doomed whoever bought him, as they would unquestionably try through gelding to retain his current looks for as long as possible by slowing his advance into manhood. It was also swiftly evident that the young Georgian, Armenian and Muscovite were all destined for different ownership, the appreciation of such imminent separation upsetting them more than anything else. As a result, tears formed in the eyes of all three of Tamerlane’s boys.

Reza licked his lips when the auction finally concluded for he was a very rich man once more.

Unfortunately for the warlord, pleasure at securing re-found wealth was disappointingly short lived. His breathless wife now suddenly rushed into the chamber, hysterically screaming “We’re all doomed!” Her husband had to slap her hard across the face to calm his spouse sufficiently to gain some appreciation of what she meant.

A short while later, the terrified Reza strode onto the battlements of his fortress to see that the whole crag on which it was built was circled by a vast host of mounted heavily armed and exotically uniformed troops, displaying many resplendent banners. A number of these soldiers had also infested the village below. They had seemingly emerged from over the nearby hilltops with sudden menace and quickly invaded the citadel surrounds. However, it was none of these sights or facts than induced complete unprecedented terror within the warlord, making him wet his trousers, but the vision of someone amidst the vast military throng.

There, clearly apparent from his entourage, many bearing the most splendid of the flags on show, was the unmistakable terrible form of Tamerlane.

“I have been betrayed,” Reza shrieked, as his mind tried to figure out whom the traitor could be who had brought the dreaded vengeful conqueror to his door.

Meanwhile, in all of the confusion, that traitor had managed to secure the persons of the still naked Vissarion, Arman and Nicolai and was guiding them down the secret steep-stepped cave passageway used for furtive escape in times of peril and leading to the bottom rear of the crag. However, the exit was currently useless for the fortress' defenders because the conqueror’s vast host surrounded the whole rocky edifice.

At the same time, in Kashan, the rotting heads of a number of Tamerlane’s closest generals and advisors were still displayed on stakes, a terrible sign to all of the consequences of unsuccessfully trying to launch a coup to topple and assassinate the conqueror. These traitors had themselves been betrayed by a now very rich traitor, but one to their own cause and not to that of their master.

“This way,” 10 years old Rezan advised, as he advanced down the stone stairs holding a torch, escorting Tamerlane’s chilled but thrilled boys to safety.

(To be continued in chapter 14 – ‘Manhood’)