Hastali's harem

 

Prince Hastali raised his royal arm, clad in the finest gold, over the trembling collection of slaves assembled before him, the unique collars around their necks indicating their status as his harem slaves. The first whore for the night had been chosen easily enough and was roughly hoisted into the air by one of the nameless eunuch giant overseers whose relentless management kept the regal heir's harem in famous condition. Prince Hastali could already picture the deep crimson stripes he would inflict onto the flesh of the pitiful hairless beast before the night' end.

"But, now" he mused "for something different."

Unlike other nobles who contend themselves with a monotonous menagerie of nearly identical slaves reflecting the man's narrow desires, Prince Hastali was a Lord of manifold interests. He preferred some variety in his ever-changing cast of harem slaves. He didn't tolerate to have to decide between, say, a hairless brute pulled from the mine slave stock or a raven-haired beauty acquired from some distant corner of the world. 

Before him each slave cowered silently: each of them  had already learned of their Master's love for inflicting great pain upon the toys he mounted. Little did the doomed animals comprehend that their time spent in the harem pens would be their golden days. Once they had lost some of their beauty, physical damage accumulated, or the Prince simply grew bored with that particular slave, the cretin would be dragged out of sight to be sold off. Most would find themselves over-worked and under-fed in some kitchen, field, or mine elsewhere in the Kingdom. Those most unlucky would become chattel to one of the Kingdom's plantations whose brutal physical demands meant a slave's lifespan seldom lasted longer than four years after purchase.