About Tasim's Tale
by Stephanie Vaughan
27 pages / 11000 words
Available file types -
html, lit, pdf, prc, epub, Sony Reader pdf
Captured by the Kundari, a neighboring kingdom, Tasim is a stranger in a
strange land. When he is made part of the entertainment at a lusty reward
ceremony for the king's soldiers, Tasim has one hope for survival: make
Dorian, the rugged captain of the regiment, his protector. A single
encounter will shock them both -- but first they must survive the night.
Tasim sat, his wet buttocks sliding on the smooth wood of the
three-legged stool. He looked at the others, to see how they were
handling the experience. They sat warily, if outwardly compliant, and
Tasim tried to mimic their composure. They didn't appear to have insides
made of pudding, wobbly as newborn calves.
"Put your hands there." Madame, as Tasim had dubbed her in his head,
gestured at yet another pole – this one running the length of the room.
Tasim did as he was told. "Good boy. You'll do well."
Had the others heard that? What could the old harridan mean? Whatever
their meaning, those three seemingly encouraging words sent a frisson of
fear snaking down his spine.
The old woman guided Tasim's face away from gazing at his fellow
prisoners, directing it toward the wall. "Now hold still." Reaching for
a pair of shears she produced out of seemingly nowhere, the woman held
his head with one hand and began clipping Tasim's hair. With just a few
deft strokes, she'd left him as bald as a spring lamb and moved on to
the hair at his underarms. After directing him to stand, she even,
hideously, took care of the hair at his groin with a few more
Next she put down the shears and picked up a mitten made of sheepskin.
Slipping it onto her hand, she applied a measured amount of oil to its
surface and began smoothing the cool liquid over Tasim's skin. Under
other circumstances, it might have been a pleasant experience, but the
warmth of the pool had long since left him and Tasim's skin prickled
The woman spent extra time on Tasim's legs and buttocks, and Tasim
thought improbably of the child's game he'd played with his brothers and
other youngsters of his acquaintance, of sliding down a grassy hill on a
summer day. He would have won every race if his serviceable leather
breeches had been greased then as he was now.
"Hands here." She tapped the wooden pole again and, once again, Tasim
did as he was told. He leaned over a bit and grasped the pole with both
hands. He didn't think much about the taps of her booted feet against
his ankles, just widened his stance a bit, until something cold and hard
pressed against his anus. He tensed uncontrollably, but the woman was
undeterred. "Hold yourself still. We're almost done."
Tasim looked away from the woman and at the three lancers to his left.
They watched avidly what was being done to him, eyes wide -- not so
The pressure built as whatever was being inserted into him pressed
irrevocably onward. Just when the pain was at its peak and Tasim feared
his flesh might split, the widest part was in, settling inside him and
he was left with an aching ass and an unfamiliar feeling of fullness.
He wasn't sure why he felt compelled to obey. He only knew that he was
helpless to change his circumstances and instinct told him to offer his
captors no resistance -- give them no reason to kill him. Tasim stood.
When something brushed against his ankles, momentarily distracting him
from the pain in his asshole, Tasim looked down. Following the trail of
hair upward with his gaze, he realized he now wore a tail. The woman had
inserted a plug into his ass with a long fall of hair like a horse's
tail attached to it.