by Heidi Stone
‘I said take her to the black chamber!’ The voice was that of Prince Sarne, who was suddenly standing behind them. He was clearly furious. The two men immediately withdrew their hands from Sahria’s nether regions and pushed her forward before the prince could wreak his vengeance on them. They rounded a corner quickly in the passageway and then slowed their steps.
‘I thought we were done for then,’ said one of them as he breathed hard. He glanced fearfully over his shoulder, but the prince had not followed them.
‘It could have been our heads,’ babbled another.
‘Why do you serve such a vicious master?’ queried Sahria, anxious to win these slow-witted numbskulls in some small way.
‘He is strong but he is fair,’ replied the spear-carrying guard. ‘In our country he freed all the slaves and gave work to the beggars. He intends to do the same in your own land, now that he has rid the country of the tyrant Al Fahoud.’
‘Take care when you speak of my father—’ Sahria began.
‘He is an evil man, and you know it. The people lived in constant dread, never knowing if each day was to be their last.’ The soldier stroked one of her breasts, then cupped the mound of flesh. Sahria remained nonchalant, as though he was gripping her wrist. His bony, rough-skinned fingers squeezed her breast and she bit her lip, determined not to show her pain. ‘Now the people are free, to do as they please,’ he added.
‘And there are many other delights, as you will soon learn,’ said the soldier who had previously slipped his finger inside her bottom.
‘What do you mean, other delights?’ Sahria asked the question, but feared that she already knew the answer.
‘You will see… you will see.’
They were nearing the door to the black chamber. Sahria began to feel a nervous fluttering in the pit of her stomach. She had never been slapped, let alone restrained and lashed as her own victims had been. Was she to be shackled to one of the many frames in the room and beaten? Or was there much worse in store for her?
The spear was rapped against the door four times. Presently she heard the drawing of bolts and the heavy wooden barrier was opened. A small but immensely muscular man stood before her, wearing nothing but a tattered and grimy loincloth. His face bore an expression of utter evil as he leered at her through tiny, pig-narrow eyes.
‘Lord Rapite,’ one of the guards said in a formal tone of voice. ‘Prince Sarne has ordered you to play host to the Princess Sahria.’
The small man walked slowly around her, eyeing her up as if he was considering the purchase of a slave in the market. She shuddered. He reached up and weighed one of her breasts in his gnarled hand. His skin felt as rough as old wood. He pinched her nipple and then tugged sharply at the ring that pierced the erect bud. Sahria winced with pain, but did not cry out.
‘A fine specimen,’ he growled. ‘I shall enjoy taming this one.’
‘She has a pussy that runs like a river,’ said one of the guards. The small man took this as an invitation and cupped her wet mound with his free hand. He gripped the soft flesh tightly and slipped a couple of fingers inside her. Sahria stiffened her thigh muscles, but was unable to halt the unwelcome intrusion.
‘Indeed she has,’ he leered. He stepped back and sniffed his wet fingertips, then bowed mockingly. ‘Quite delicious,’ he said with a grin. He made a gesture with his arm to indicate that she should pass by him. ‘Enter, my dear princess, enter my chamber of pleasure. When you again see the light of day you will be a changed woman.’
Sahria walked meekly into the darkened room. Rapite followed her and closed the old door noisily, barring it immediately with the many bolts. Sahria looked around the grim room slowly. Two flickering torches illuminated numerous racks and frames, as well as a myriad of other items of restraint, casting eerie shadows about the place. The walls were festooned with whips, flails and canes.
The chamber was little changed from the last time she had visited it, but this time it would be she who was shackled. It would be she who would feel the pain of the tawse or the rod, the rough grip of the iron cuffs and, above all, the kiss of the lash.
Rapite moved over to one of the frames. To Sahria’s eyes it resembled one of the easels used by the court artists, but was much larger. Four leather straps were fixed to the gnarled wood by heavy iron rings, two at the top and two close to the base. The small man clambered onto an upturned box and began to unbuckle one of the higher straps. ‘Come here, my dear,’ he sneered. His intentions were clear and, in earlier times Sahria would have refused, but for some reason that was incomprehensible to her she now felt compelled to obey, as though drawn to a nameless fate.
She walked slowly forward. Rapite took hold of her arm roughly and raised it until he was able to secure her wrist within the grip of the leather bond. He drew the strap tightly and secured it within an iron buckle, then jumped down from his perch and turned her to face the frame. He scuttled below her like the rat that he resembled, deftly anchoring her legs by the ankles to the two supports, and ensuring that her feet were spread widely apart and her body was facing the frame in a pose of abject submission. Finally, he clambered onto another box and completed his task by securing the remaining leather strap around her other wrist and pulling it tight. This time it hurt – it hurt a lot, but somehow the pain warmed her.
Rapite jumped down once more and stood behind her as if to survey the quality of his work. Throughout his activities Sahria remained impassive. She knew there was little chance of escape, but above all she found her curiosity was fired. She’d had similar feelings in the past, notably during the many occasions when she’d witnessed the sensuous flogging of her many conquests. She had often wondered what it would be like to be shackled, naked and helpless, completely at the mercy of her tormentor. Her rank at court had meant that she could never allow herself to be placed in such a vulnerable position, of course. Now things were very much different and, incongruously she realised that her feelings were more tinged with sexual excitement than with fear.
There was a long pause, the silence broken only by her captor’s heavy breathing. She knew he was looking closely at her and examining every curve of her body. She felt him touch her bottom with his fingertips, and shivered. He knelt behind her and parted her buttocks with his thumbs. She could feel his hot breath against her anus and sex lips. He kissed her lightly on her tiny sphincter, then ran his tongue slowly from her anus upwards to the small of her back. For a few seconds she felt angry at his affront. How dare this pig of a man lick the royal bottom? Despite her annoyance, however, she sensed her inner thighs becoming saturated with her own juices.
‘Such a fine arse,’ the evil man muttered, as though to some unseen audience. ‘It would seem a shame to mark such perfect globes.’
‘Then why mark them?’ Sahria said slowly. ‘Why not continue to enjoy them as you have been doing, with your hands and your tongue?’ Shackled as she was, she found the idea quite entertaining, although the very thought of allowing the repulsive man to do anything more intimate than she had just suggested was quite out of the question.
‘Silence, vixen,’ he commanded, his tone reminding her that she had little choice in the matter. He slapped her bottom hard with the palm of his hand. ‘In the black chamber you may not speak without my permission.’
Sahria gritted her teeth, determined not to show him that the slap had stung her bottom quite severely. For a few moments he seemed to take her at her word and fondled her buttocks with all the finesse and desire of an expert lover. Sahria allowed herself to relax a little, despite her limbs being stretched painfully by her position against the frame. She breathed deeply as his fingers explored the outer lips of her pussy. She yearned for him to touch her aching clitoris and to give her the release she craved, but he seemed to be purposely avoiding contact with the hard little bud.
He moved away, and she heard him picking something up in the darkness behind
her. She turned her head as best she could to see he was holding a vicious, long-handled whip that boasted at least a dozen strands of thin leather, splaying from the tightly bound end. She turned her face away from him and braced herself for the inevitable thrashing. She began to tremble as she remembered the way the lash had cut into the sinewy flesh of her male victims, and considered with some justification that her delicate skin would be torn to shreds.
She felt him caress her back with the cool lengths of leather. He moved the lashes up and down her spine as if taunting her with their gentle touch. Her shoulders were beginning to ache and she could feel the blood in her wrists thumping as it forced its way through the tight restraints. Suddenly, there was a loud crack as the whip was brought down on a table. Sahria gasped and jumped visibly. Rapite laughed, a cruel cackle.
‘Are you afraid, dear princess? Speak!’
‘No, I am not afraid,’ she lied.
He stood at her side and leered up at her face. ‘Then you should be, princess,’ he snarled, ‘for you know full well that the lash will cut into your tender skin, and that the pain will be excruciating.’
‘Do as you wish, Rapite. You cannot break my will.’ Sahria was trembling quite markedly, much to her disappointment. She had not wished to show any terror to this dreadful man. He could lash her for all he was worth and beat her into unconsciousness for all she cared, but she was determined not to reveal any weakness.
There was another long pause. Sahria waited for the first stroke of the foul weapon against her soft skin. Her nipples felt erect against the hard wood of the frame. Her pussy throbbed involuntarily and she began to slowly realise that she wanted the pain. She needed him to lash her with such force that the searing strips of leather would tear her flesh, just as he had promised.
‘Why do you wait, Rapite?’ she murmured. ‘Why not be done with it?’
‘I told you not to speak unless I gave you permission,’ he said angrily, his voice becoming louder and more menacing with each word. ‘Now you will be severely punished!’
Sahria heard him drop the whip onto the table. She turned her head again and saw him take up a thin strip of bamboo. He moved back to stand at her side and tickled her bottom with the end of the cane. ‘You are not ready for the whip yet. You need to learn the many pleasures of pain before you can be subjected to the ultimate agony and delight. This will be merely a taster of the many joys to come.’
She saw him raise his muscular arm above his head and turned her face away to stare at the wall. She stiffened her buttocks. The cane swished through the air, but there was no contact with her body. Rapite did the same again, and then repeated it a third time, teasing her mercilessly. Sahria cursed him under her breath. The heat between her legs was becoming almost unbearable.
The sudden swish of the cane startled her and the searing agony she felt across her buttocks caused her to cry out. She clawed at the wood of the frame with her fingernails and gritted her teeth. The pain had been far more intense than she’d ever imagined it could be, and now she wasn’t so sure how much she would be able to take. The air swished again and she was cut a second time. It became painfully apparent to her that Rapite was a master at his craft. The cane had bitten into her flesh in exactly the same place as the first time it scored her plump flesh.
The third stroke was the worst. It cut her at the tops of her thighs, just under the delicate swell of her bottom. She shrieked with the pain, and was immediately furious with herself for having done so. She felt she was showing herself up as nothing more than a pathetic woman, and vowed never to cry out again.
At least ten more cuts followed. Sahria lost the will to count them. Her bottom was almost numb, and the pain had become far less severe. Rapite eventually started to grunt with exhaustion, clearly through putting every effort into his labours. The last couple of strokes barely stung her.
At last, Rapite threw the cane onto the table and sat on the box next to her, panting heavily. Sahria felt a tear trickling from her eye and turned her face away from him, lest he sense her vulnerability. She managed to wipe the tear from her cheek onto her upper arm, then looked back at the sweating man. She held his gaze with a cold stare.
‘You took it well, princess,’ he wheezed. ‘I have seen many a strong man beg for mercy after the first cut.’
Sahria chose to ignore his barbed compliment. The feeling was returning to her tortured buttocks, and the pain seemed to be increasing rather than decreasing as her nerve-endings became once more fired with sensation. Strangely, however, the more her bottom ached, the more her sexual arousal increased. She had even come close to orgasm during the beating, but it had not been enough. She realised now why so many of the men she had thrashed in the past had fallen from their shackles with raging erections. She had thought it most peculiar; thinking it to be perhaps an odd physical reaction to intense pain, and it had amused her. Now she understood.
After a few more minutes Rapite rose to his feet and moved behind her. Sahria felt him stroke her stinging bottom with his callused hands, and once more sensed the fluids of her arousal slipping from her pouting sex lips to dampen her inner thighs.
‘You are well marked,’ he said proudly. ‘The prince will be most pleased.’
‘May I speak, my lord?’ she asked weakly.
‘You may.’
Sahria took a deep breath. ‘Is this my lot, to remain shackled here for the rest of my life?’
Rapite laughed as he continued to fondle her aching buttocks. ‘No, dear princess, this is merely a beginning. Prince Sarne is most inventive when it comes to the pleasures of humiliation. I am certain that he has many far more bizarre delights in store for you.’
‘And if I do not submit?’
‘You will be sent to me for punishment and, believe me, it will not always be so pleasurable.’
‘Do you take pleasure in your work?’ she asked. ‘You seem so exhausted after punishing me.’
‘There are no greater delights in life than the sight of a plump bottom quivering under the cane, and the sounds of anguished screams as the scourge cuts into unbroken flesh.’
Sahria had to admit to herself that the evil torturer spoke the truth. ‘What if I were to offer to assist the prince?’ she said. ‘Do you think he would allow it?’
‘The prince is always keen to learn of new diversions, and your reputation goes before you, princess. Firstly, however, he must be convinced that your submission to him is complete.’ As he spoke he began to worm a finger inside her tight little anus.
‘Must you abuse me so?’ she implored.
‘Silence!’ he roared. ‘You are in no position to deny me anything!’
‘Yes, my lord,’ she sighed.
‘In fact, I think I may fuck you,’ her tormentor said as he slipped his finger from within its tight sheath.
‘Not there,’ she said firmly. ‘I would not even allow a prince to enter that forbidden place.’
Rapite laughed. ‘As I said, you are in no position to refuse me anything.’
Sahria looked round at him and caught his eye with a steely glare. ‘That may be true while you have me shackled here like a slave, but if you dare do that to me then I swear one day I will kill you.’
The grin disappeared from Rapite’s face. Sahria knew it would have been clear from her stony expression that she had meant every word. There was a long and uncomfortable silence.
Presently he shrugged. ‘It is not my desire to impale you in such a way,’ he said, his voice sounding like that of a small child who had been denied a childish pleasure. ‘But be warned, the prince has a penchant for the pleasures of Sodom, and he will not be so readily denied.’
‘I will deal with that when necessary,’ replied Sahria. Her mind was immediately filled with pictures of Prince Sarne thrusting his huge weapon into her virginal orifice. She breathed deeply, convinced that such a thing would not be
possible.
‘And now I will take my payment,’ breathed Rapite. Sahria glanced down and saw his grubby loincloth fall to the floor. She turned her head in order to see his nakedness, but he moved quickly behind her and gripped her hips tightly with both hands. She could feel the swollen end of his erection touching her bottom. The difference in their heights and the way her legs were spread wide apart made the position ideal for penetration.
‘I warn you…’ she cautioned.
‘Fear not, dear princess. It is your other, soft and soaked entrance that I most desire.’
Sahria was in neither the position nor the mood to refuse him. He was ugly, small in stature and reeked of the dungeon, but she needed sex badly, and she needed it now.
She felt him move his penis against her. He rolled the plum-shaped end around her outer lips without entering her. He was teasing her again, as he had with the cane. She wanted to cry out to him and beg him to ram his stiffness into her aching sheath, but she knew he would merely torment her all the more if she uttered a sound. She bent her back, straining her tortured wrists and ankles against the leather restraints and sharp buckles in order to force her bottom out in a provocative pose. But his response was to move away from her. Sahria cursed him again under her breath.
She sensed the touch of his thumbs once more parting the cheeks of her bottom, and then felt the heavenly wetness of his tongue as it circled around the open lips of her sex. She stiffened her legs in an effort to force her orgasm, but he seemed to perceive her desire and moved the tip of his tongue from her pussy, and instead lapped hungrily around the sumptuous globes of her bottom. Normally she would have enjoyed the sensation, but not this time. She desperately needed to be impaled and to feel a stiff cock deep within her loins.
He moved from her, and it seemed he was just standing motionless, looking at her. She turned her head. She could see his full nakedness now, and the sight was not altogether unpleasant. His cock, although not overly long, was extremely thick. It jutted firmly upwards, the veins standing proud in bold relief. He was clearly highly aroused, and yet was somehow managing to hold himself back from her proffered delights. Sahria wondered at the man’s self-control. She also pondered as to whether he would be able to maintain this control when he finally entered her soaking honeypot, or if he would fill her with his cream the moment his fat cock became enveloped by her succulent flesh. She was fully aware that she desperately needed a good long fuck to make up for the teasing and the torment she had endured.
