When the Sultan discovered his favorite wife was deceiving him with a member of the Palace Guard, he flew into a rage. He’d been suspicious for some weeks, during which his wife’s exceptional skills had seemed to lack something of their former vivacity, which is why he’d set one of his spies to observe her. Even so, the confirmation of his wife’s treachery provoked a fearsome tantrum.
He ordered that the wife be given sixty lashes immediately on account, while he considered a more severe punishment. The beating had been administered in the courtyard below, and the piteous cries of his wife as the lash fell upon her bare flesh irritated the Sultan still further, so that he was obliged to close the window. Since it was summer and stifling hot in his apartments, this only added fuel to the flames of his anger. History does not record what happened to the offending member of the Palace Guard, but it is unlikely that he met his Maker in full possession of his accoutrements.
The Sultan lay awake that night, after his second favourite wife had departed, her marital duties performed. He wondered what further punishment to devise for the errant first favourite. Another lashing would not do. It might have a permanent effect on his wife’s beauty, marking her soft and delicate skin with scars. A more effective penalty would surely involve disgracing her in the eyes of the public. But how could that be done? In the morning he awoke and found an idea had crept into his brain while he slept. He called his vizier.
‘You must make a search of all the city, to find me the man with the biggest cock,’ he said.
The vizier looked surprised. ‘For what purpose, Highness?’
‘Never mind,’ the Sultan ordered. ‘Just do it. The biggest, remember.’
The vizier set about his business. With a detachment of troops he scoured the city. At each place of employment the workers were lined up and required to display their manhood. A note was taken of any who were especially well endowed. The army barracks and naval college were also investigated. After two days the vizier had a list of half a dozen candidates. He had them drawn up in front of him and he walked up and down the line, inspecting them carefully. There were some impressive specimens, including two sailors, but there was no doubt of the winner. A tailor, a little fellow called Hadji, not above five foot six, with a scrawny body, had a most prodigious organ. The vizier felt sure the Sultan would be satisfied, though for what purpose he still could not surmise.
Hadji was taken before the Sultan and told to lower his breeches. The Sultan stared at his member without expression. It hung between his legs, reaching half way to his knees.
‘Fetch that new girl who came in last week,’ said the Sultan.
The girl was brought in. She was the youngest of all the girls in the harem.
‘I want to see him big,’ the Sultan said, gesturing with his hand towards Hadji.
The girl hesitated, not knowing what was expected. The vizier whispered in her ear. She blushed, glanced nervously at the Sultan, then moved forward. She knelt in front of Hajdi and took hold of his cock. Gingerly she bent her head to it, took it in her mouth and went to work. It did not take long for Hadji’s cock to rise to a formidable dimension. At a word from the Sultan the girl took her mouth away. The Sultan and the vizier stared at the cock, which stood red and glistening, sticking out at an angle of forty-five degrees to the floor.
‘When did you last have a woman?’ the Sultan asked.
‘Last night, highness,’ the tailor said respectfully.
‘And before that?’
‘The previous afternoon,’ he replied.
‘And before that?’ the Sultan demanded.
‘The night before.’
‘So, you have a rapacious appetite?’
‘No, Highness,’ the tailor said. ‘But my wife, she will not let me be.’ He shrugged his shoulders apologetically.
‘Take this fellow,’ the Sultan said to the vizier, ‘and keep him under lock and key. Make sure he is well fed and looked after. Let the girls of the harem dance before him. Every two hours let one of the most cunning of them do to him what has just been done. But on no account must he ejaculate. Chain his hands so that he may not touch himself. We must keep him nicely worked up till he’s needed. Do you understand?’
The vizier nodded. He could follow the instructions, though still without the slightest sense of what such preparations were for.
Three days later the populace were summoned to the great square in front of the palace. A platform had been erected in the centre. A column of soldiers brought the tailor Hadji. He was stripped of his clothes. The crowd observed him silently, noting his dimensions without comment. Then the Sultan’s favourite wife was brought, in chains. She too was also stripped naked. The little tailor observed her beautiful breasts, their nipples dark brown, almost black.
He gazed upon her delicately curved belly, at her milky white thighs and at the tight knot of black curls between them, which did not quite screen the invitingly plump, pink lips of her sex. There were calls from the crowd now as Hadji’s cock began to rise, several making ribald remarks about its prodigious size. The vizier read out a proclamation setting forth the wife’s infidelities. He declared that the Sultan had decreed a punishment suitable for a whore, that she should be ravished in full view of the populace by a common man of uncommon physical attributes.
The vizier gave an order to the guards. They led the Sultan’s wife to a wooden bench covered by a mattress and forced her to knee on it with her legs apart. The Sultan had reasoned that this would be the most appropriate position; for a woman of high status to go on her knees before a common tailor would be a deep humiliation. Hadji was led towards her, his cock jutting out in front on him.
One of the guards took hold of it and placed it at the entrance to the sex that was exposed before him. Hadji gave a thrust of his buttocks as he entered the Sultan’s wife. The crowd cheered. He withdrew his member almost to the tip; the Sultan, observing from a distant window of his palace, could just make out the full length of the shaft before it plunged in once more. What he could not observe was the face of his wife, which was turned away from him. A blissful smile had spread across it.
Vigorously Hadji pounded away until at last he came and his thrusts subsided. He stood up and was led away, his cock now visibly diminished. The Sultan’s wife was raised to her feet, was covered in a robe and then led away, her head bowed. The crowd dispersed, talking animatedly among itself. The Sultan turned away from the window, feeling himself well revenged.
One evening several weeks later, the Sultan lay in his bedchamber surrounded by three women of the harem. Each had tried, in their various ways, to stimulate him. But for days now none of them had managed to arouse his interest. Young, fresh girls new to the palace had been brought before him, as well as those who were veterans of the Sultan’s bed. But even the most accomplished fellatrix had failed. The most lascivious of lips, the most talented of tongues, none seemed able to stiffen his flaccid cock.
The vizier was summoned. Concerned at the seriousness of the situation, he pondered what to do. He whispered in the Sultan’s ear. All at once the Sultan eyes brightened.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘She has suffered enough.’
The vizier returned with the woman who once had been the Sultan’s favourite wife. As she entered her dark eyes flashed what looked dangerously like defiance. The vizier took her on one side and muttered to her, then led her to the Sultan. Lying on his bed, he beamed at her.
‘My darling,’ he said. ‘How I have missed you.’
She said nothing.
‘Go on,’ the vizier hissed in her ear. ‘Only your skill can bring him back to pleasure.’
She knelt in front of him. She reached out and lifted the cover of the bed, revealing the Sultan’s naked body. Lying between his thighs, under his great fat belly, was a shrivelled cock no bigger than a shrimp. She looked at it, then threw her head back and gave a great cry of laughter.
The Sultan’s face grew black with anger, while the vizier went yellow with fear. The once-favourite wife was dragged away, still shrieking with laughter, to be imprisoned in the deepest bowels of the palace, in a dank dark cell far underground. But ever afterwards, if one of his wives should catch sight of his cock, the Sultan was sure he could hear mocking laughter coming up from below.
