In the quietest part of the slaver's area, nestled in the darkness of the outer wall of Alanya, was a tent of bright yellow. With the sand piled around the entrance, it gave the impression of being a lone tent in the wastes of the desert instead of crowded between one slaver selling slaves from Egypt and another selling unpleasant-looking, pale-skinned women.

On either side of the opening were two women wearing nothing but skirts. In one hand, they held the fabric shielding the tent and the other was resting on their hips. Neither moved, but Suleiman knew they weren't statues. They were the highly-trained and personal slaves of Mubarak, a slaver with a good eye for feminine beauty and a cunning mind. Mubarak was also more expensive than half the slaver's market combined.

Five years ago, Suleiman had purchased Juliana and two others from Mubarak. The cost was high but the years of pleasure he wrung out of Juliana's body had more than paid for it. The other two, while the highest quality flesh money could by, ended up lacking when it came to Suleiman's tastes. He had one killed by cutting her from throat to clitoris. The other was executed in his front garden, impaled on the stone cock of a horse statue.

Suleiman smiled at the memories. Juliana had proven herself the best in those days, sucking him off as he watched both women dying.

He walked through the entrance to the slaver's tent. As he approached, the two slaves pulled back the opening and he stepped through without even a hint of fabric scraping against his clothes.

He only waited a few seconds before the slaver stepped out from behind one of the curtains leading deeper into his quarters. “The greatest sultan in the world, how good to see you again!”

They clasped hands as old friends.

“May I offer you something? Arak? Something stronger?”

Suleiman nodded and followed Mubarak into one of the private rooms. Like the front, it was draped in fabric as if it was in a tent, but he knew there was good solid wood behind the canvas. It would take a great deal of bribes to sneak an assassin into Mubarak's place and both men knew that Mubarak would be the first to suffer if anyone attacked Suleiman.

Sinking down on the soft pillows by a circular table, Suleiman leaned back and nodded. “Arak is fine.”

A comely women with small breasts scurried in with a clay pot and two glasses of ice balanced on top. Moving gracefully, she set down the glasses and poured the contents of the pot into each one. As the clear liquid swirled around the ice, it grew milky. With a bow, she stepped back.

The slaver started after they drank. “How may this humble man serve the greatest of sultans?”

Suleiman chuckled. “I'm in the market to expand my harem.”

The slaver smiled with perfectly white teeth. “I was deeply regretful that you purchased your last bunch from down the lane. They didn't last long, did they?”

“No,” Suleiman pulled a face, “they were not the quality I hoped they would be.”

“I would not have sold you such spoiled meat.”

Suleiman leaned forward and picked up the glass. “You would have bankrupted my palace to purchase one. I wasn't in the mood for such an expense that year.”

“Some days,” Mubarak raised his glass, “all you wish for is for petals to cover the floors instead of a single, perfect flower.”

With a chuckle, Suleiman nodded. “But, today, I'm looking for a beautiful flower.”

“I have many flowers for you to choose from, some that you would enjoy plucking their petals more than cherishing them, though.”

“I have no doubt about that.”

“Shall I show you, my most esteemed sultan?”

Suleiman nodded and leaned back to enjoy the presentation.

Mubarak brought in the first girl, a dark haired beauty. She was slender and firm, her belly a smooth line and her breasts the size of jugs. But, when Suleiman asked for her to dance, she stumbled and the sultan quickly dismissed her.

More girls were brought in for him, to show off their bodies and dance, but Suleiman found something wrong with each one of them. More drink flowed and both men talked as the slaves presented themselves before being dismissed.

One of Mubarak's personal slaves came in and knelt between Suleiman's legs. Without saying a word, she fished out his cock and brought it into her hot mouth.

Suleiman sighed softly but didn't look down. She was nothing more than furniture in the slaver's place, a negotiating tactic and a way of placating him. He narrowed his eyes and rested his hand on her head.

She obeyed and took more of his hardening length into her mouth. The tip of his cock slid along the top of her mouth and then to the back of her throat.

Digging his fingers into her soft hair, he shoved her down until his cock speared her throat and her lips pressed against the base of his length. “I'm disappointed with your selections, Murbarak,” he said as he felt her body twitching on his shaft. “You know my tastes and none of those women come even close.”

Murbarak's eyes glittered for a moment. “I'm saving the best for last, of course. I just needed you to get in the mood.” He gestured down to the women trembling between Suleiman's legs. Her hands were resting on the cushion below him and he could feel her efforts not to scrape his cock with her teeth or to touch him.

Suleiman relaxed his grip and let her slid up. As soon as he heard her inhale, he shoved her back down. A thick dribble of saliva and pre-cum poured out from the side of her mouth, coating his balls and her throat. He relaxed and jammed her down until he was fully seated in her throat.

He brought his other hand to her head and held her tight against his crotch. He could feel how his cock was stuffed into her throat, blocking off her breath. She was gulping at the girth suffocating her and the thought of her dying swelled his length.

Across from him, Murbarak looked worried for a moment.

“Show me your best girl, Murbarak.” His fingers dug into the soft hair with a silent promise. He wasn't going to let the slave breath until Suleiman saw a woman worthy of his attention. And if she tried to escape herself, there was no doubt that both her and Mubarak would suffer from an “attack” against the sultan.

Murbarak stood up and held his hands together. “Please wait. I'll get Celeste.” He glanced down and then rushed out of the room.

Suleiman leaned back and watched the slave struggling on his cock. Tears ran down her cheeks as she struggled to remain in place. Just as her face was turning bright red, he relaxed her grip enough to give her a few sips of air before jamming her down. The feel of her struggling against him, swallowing at his cock and her naked body trembling, felt good and the excitement bubbled up from his balls.

He fucked her face, using her mouth as a wet hole. Well-trained, she managed to keep her lips sealed around his cock and her teeth of his skin. He watched thick sheets of saliva coating his length. He jammed her down harder until her nose was crushed against his belly.

Mubarak came back with a women in tow.

With a quiet grunt, Suleiman jammed his cock deep into the slave's throat and held it there.

The new woman, Celeste, was slender with long dark hair that reached her shoulder blades. She almost pranced as she came into the room. As soon as she passed through the curtain, she stepped away from the slaver and spun into the center of the room.

Musicians started a bright, cheerful melody and she quickly moved in time with the flowing beat.

Her bare feet, adorned with rings, tapped as she stepped up on a small platform in the center of the room. With a grin, she vibrated her hips as she continued to spin around, bouncing from one foot to another as she continued to move in a shimmy.

Long seconds pass as he watched her dance. She never stopped shaking her hips and body. Suleiman grew more excited. She had a stamina that he had never seen before and a rhythm that encouraged him to fuck the woman between his legs faster. He drove into the wet mouth, never letting his cock leave the tight confines of her throat.

Celeste continued to dance. Her eyes caught his own and she smiled broadly. With a swirl, she spun around and shook her ass for him, shaking it in all directions and then stopping with a jerk. A heartbeat later, she was shimmying for him once again.

No one looked at the slave choking on his cock. Her skin grew slick with sweat and she pawed at the cushions between his legs. Tears splashed down on his thighs and he could feel her reflexively gulping at his cock, trying to force him to cum so she could breathe again.

The music grew into a crescendo and the dancer moved even faster, sliding around dancing. His eyes slid along her body, mind spinning with a thousand fantasies as he watched her dance.

Celeste stopped at the same time of the music, on her knees with her arms spread apart. Her sweat-slicked breasts rose and felt with her pants. There was a smile on her lips and he wanted to grab her face and shove his cock into it.

His fantasy drove him into an orgasm. Grabbing the girl between his legs, he shoved his cock as deep as he could and came. The hot jets of cum splattered her throat and she shuddered under his fingers. He came hard twice three times and then pushed her away.

The slave fell back, her eyes rolled up in the back of her head. Her face was covered in cum and saliva before she slumped to the ground. A weak cough shook her frame as she settled back, unseeing. A shudder ran through her body.

Mubarak looked down with a sad look on her face. He snapped his fingers and stood up, stepping over the twitching girl and held out his hand in a silent question.

Suleiman looked up at him and smiled. “Yes.”

It was all he needed. Any price was worth it.