by Heidi Stone
One of the soldiers grinned broadly as they approached him and raised his skirt to reveal his naked genitals. Sahria eyed the drooping member dispassionately, and then looked across at her friend. Calema’s expression showed that she had more than a little interest in the proffered specimen. ‘Come, sister,’ Sahria snapped, ‘the prince awaits us.’
Calema tore her gaze from the man and the two girls strode purposefully after the scuttling form of Rapite, and caught up with him just as he entered the throne room. They stood in the doorway, waiting to be summoned. Prince Sarne sat lazily on the throne with one leg resting over the arm of the great chair. A woman knelt at his feet, the movement of her head betraying the fact that she was paying oral homage to his huge weapon.
Presently the prince noticed Sahria and Calema in the doorway and clapped his hands together. The girl at his feet immediately moved away and Sahria caught a glimpse of his magnificent erection, before he pulled his cloak across his nakedness. She felt an immediate twinge of desire between her thighs, and knew that whatever the prince demanded of her would be given happily.
‘Come forward!’ he barked. Rapite scurried ahead of them towards the prince with his head bowed. Sahria strode slowly forward with her head held high, in order to maintain as much dignity as was possible in her naked state. Calema followed suit, until the two women stood at the base of the step to the throne.
‘Do you not bow before your prince?’ Sarne rose to his feet as he spoke. Sahria remained unmoving. The prince stepped down and stood in front of her, his face barely inches from hers. He reached forward and cupped and raised her breasts in his hands. ‘Such luscious mounds of delight,’ he continued. ‘I wonder how many strong hands have kneaded this soft flesh and how many mouths have suckled on these hard nipples.’ He pinched her stiff buds simultaneously, and then released her firm breasts.
He turned to face Calema. The young girl bowed her head, more in fear than in reverence. ‘And what of you, princess?’ he said. ‘Is your bottom still aching?’
Calema’s face coloured with her embarrassment.
‘You are a pig, Sarne,’ snapped Sahria protectively, and regretted her impertinence immediately and feared that she had gone too far. The prince swung round and glared at her. She held his stare, determined not to show him that she was terrified. He reached out and pinched one of her nipples and twisted it until she winced with the pain. Still she looked straight into his eyes, unblinking and without emotion. The prince’s expression softened and he released his grip. Sahria breathed deeply as she felt the blood pumping through her breast. He stroked it gently, and Sahria glanced down and noticed the shape of his erection pushing against the heavy material of his cloak. She felt an inner sense of relief; he may hurt her and that would be fine, but he wouldn’t kill her. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.
Sarne stepped back up to the throne and sat down. ‘My friend here, Rapite, tells me you have a proposition to put to me,’ he said in an arrogant tone.
‘Indeed, my lord,’ replied Sahria.
‘Speak then.’
Sahria paused in order to give her words some effect. She looked around the room at the sea of faces of the peasants and soldiers who were leering unashamedly at her and her beautiful friend, and how she hated them!
She looked back at the prince. His hand was tucked under his cloak and he was clearly masturbating.
‘Calema and I are well versed in all matters sexual,’ she began.
‘That is well known,’ the prince interrupted, with a wry laugh. He looked around proudly at the assembled throng and they immediately joined him in his derision with forced hoots of laughter. Sahria managed to smile.
‘We feel it would be to all our benefit if we shared our knowledge,’ she continued. ‘There is nothing on the subjects of subjugation and humiliation that we do not know. Let us recruit and train young girls to do your bidding, and I promise that there will be more pleasures for you than you could ever have imagined.’
Sarne stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘And what would you achieve for yourself by doing this?’ he asked.
‘All we ask is the freedom to enjoy the company of men as we always have done. We will, of course, willingly take our punishment whenever we exceed the boundaries of what is permitted, my lord.’ She bowed subserviently as she spoke these last few words, and there was a long pause.
‘Where will you find these women?’ asked the prince at last.
‘We will send messengers throughout the country. Once word is out that the handsome Prince of Persia is seeking concubines it is certain that many girls will flock to the court.’
Sarne smiled, and Sahria felt a deep sense of satisfaction. She had wisely surmised that the key to the prince’s heart was to be found hidden within his monstrous vanity. He clapped his hands and laughed loudly. ‘Let it be so!’ he called to the court. ‘Forthwith Sahria and Calema are to be known as the Princesses of Pleasure!’
A rousing cheer rang around the great room, but Sarne looked into Sahria’s eyes and his expression darkened. ‘Know this,’ he said in a hushed tone, ‘should you or your protégées displease me in any way, your punishment will be most severe!’
‘We will willingly, nay gladly, accept the pain, my lord,’ Sahria replied. ‘But there is one more thing I wish to ask of you.’
‘Speak.’
Sahria looked pointedly at the impressive bulge at the front of his cloak. She spoke quietly, anxious that no one heard her words other than the prince. ‘You have promised that you will fuck me. You have already taken my dear friend here in a way that I have never experienced with any man. I ask that soon you will pleasure me in the same manner.’
Sarne smiled cruelly. ‘When I am ready…’ he whispered. ‘When I am ready.’
‘Spend one night with me, Sarne, and I promise it will be a night you will never forget.’ Sahria had never begged for sex before; to do so was totally alien to her nature, and yet here in front of a host of people she was demeaning herself willingly. She was trembling, the lust for this powerful man burning inside her.
‘You go too far, princess.’ Sarne was clearly angry. ‘I am your prince, and you will address me as such. Furthermore, you will never again demand my attention. Is that clear?’
Sahria nodded, a tear forming in the corner of one eye. ‘Yes, my lord,’ she said meekly. She looked up into his face. ‘Am I to be punished for my impertinence?’ She chose her words carefully, and the prince seemed impressed by her sudden subservience.
‘Indeed you are,’ he said. ‘In one hour you will be taken to the marketplace trussed up like a stuck pig and there, well, you will see.’
Sahria looked into his face, her eyes shining. ‘Will it hurt, my lord?’ she asked.
‘It will.’
‘Thank you, my lord.’ Sahria bowed her head and saw that his penis was now jutting from within the folds of his cloak. The head was purple and damp with his own juices. She wanted to fling herself forward and take the monster into her mouth and suckle him again, but she resisted the temptation. Sarne covered himself and stood up.
‘Rapite,’ he barked, ‘take these two to the blue chambers. That will be their home.’ He dismissed Sahria and Calema with a nonchalant wave of his hand, and the two girls followed Rapite from the room.
The princess and her friend had both known about the blue chambers of course, but had never any reason to visit them. When Sahria’s father ruled the country the blue chambers were the quarters of the royal concubines. These were women who were blessed with the utmost beauty and who were skilled in all manner of deviance. Their purpose was to give pleasure to the king and his chosen guests. Sahria had always found the concubines to be a somewhat surly group, with ideas well above their class. The simple fact that they had allowed the royal penis to penetrate their luscious bodies seemed to give them the opinion that they were superior to lesser members of the c
ourt. She had little to do with them, unless they joined her in her own games. Even then, she usually felt uncomfortable with their arrogance and their self-opinionated posturing.
When she and Calema arrived at the chambers they found them empty. Sahria immediately wondered where the royal concubines had been taken. Surely Prince Sarne would want to savour such a cornucopia of beauty for himself? She turned to Rapite, intending to question him as to the girls’ whereabouts, but the small man was already leaving the room having obediently completed his escorting duties. The door was closed firmly behind him and Sahria heard the now familiar sound of bolts sliding into place.
The rooms were opulent, but the two girls knew they were still prisoners. Sahria sat heavily on one of the many couches and clasped her hands between her thighs. She stared gloomily at the rich carpet, hearing Calema opening various drawers and cupboards.
‘By Allah, look at this!’ she heard her friend exclaim. Looking up, she saw that the girl was holding what seemed to be a most un-feminine pair of pants. They were large and black and seemed to be made of a kind of soft shining leather.
‘They don’t look very nice,’ she said.
Calema held the garment out excitedly. ‘No, no,’ she giggled, ‘look inside them!’
Sahria stood up, took the pants, looked inside, and laughed loudly. Within the tight, sensuous material were sown two perfectly shaped phallic rods, each the size and proportion of an average male penis. The material itself felt strangely soft, but not like leather at all. Sahria put the garment to her face and sniffed. Rubber! She had only come across the new material once before in her life, but had never forgotten its sensuous aroma. She breathed deeply. The scent was intoxicating. She fondled the two phalluses. They were hard but supple in her grip, their purpose obvious.
‘Let me try them,’ said Calema excitedly.
Sahria grinned and handed the garment to her friend. ‘You’ll need some lubrication,’ she laughed. Calema immediately searched amongst an array of coloured bottles on a nearby table until she found what she wanted.
‘This should do,’ she said, as she poured a little of the viscous liquid onto the palm of her hand. Sahria held the pants open while her friend rubbed a liberal amount of the oil over the rigid black stalks. Calema’s eyes were shining and her face was flushed. She poured some more of the fluid into her hand and then slipped her fingers between her legs. Sahria watched as she oiled and prepared her tight little sphincter, pushing two, then three fingers inside to open herself in readiness. Calema looked up at her and grinned. There was no shame or embarrassment in her expression. In fact, it became abundantly clear that she was actually enjoying being watched as she slipped her fingers in and out of herself.
The downy hair covering her pussy was glossed and matted. It was quite evident that there was no need to lubricate this other sheath. Calema took hold of the pants and carefully stepped into them. She pulled them slowly up her shapely legs, all the time grinning broadly, then hauled them higher until they fitted snugly around her hips. Sahria couldn’t see what was happening, but could tell from the expression on Calema’s face and the girl’s heavy breathing that the two rods were entering her slippery sheaths. Calema pulled the pants up fully and then reached between her legs to push them hard against her crotch, so that the phalluses filled her two holes completely.
The girl stood erect, and then walked slowly around the room. ‘It feels fantastic!’ she sighed. ‘They move slightly when you walk. It’s like being fucked in the cunt and the arse at the same time!’
‘Have you ever done that – for real, I mean?’ asked Sahria, a little taken aback by the strength of the girl’s obscenities.
Calema cocked her head to one side and looked at her friend questioningly. ‘Of course,’ she said, ‘haven’t you?’
‘No, I told you, I’ve never been fu… I mean, I’ve never taken it in my bottom.’
‘Oh yes, sorry, I forgot. It really is the most wonderful experience, especially if the man’s blessed with a large weapon.’
‘So you said,’ responded Sahria, with unconcealed envy. ‘I’m sure that soon I will discover the delights of such deviations.’
‘Perhaps it will be sooner than you think,’ said Calema wryly. ‘Who knows what’s going to happen to you in the marketplace.’
Sahria sensed a familiar twitch within the folds of her pussy as her nerves tingled with the excitement of the unknown. She was fully aware that she would be bound, or trussed up like a stuck pig as the prince had described it, and he had promised that it would hurt – but the marketplace? Why would she be taken to such an open and public area?
She watched as Calema tried on other items of intimate clothing, some erotic, others simply beautiful. The rubber pants were discarded in favour of more feminine underwear, items made of silk and gossamer, each exotically revealing in its own way. The royal courtesans certainly knew how to please their lovers visually.
There was a loud rap at the door and two burly soldiers entered, followed by a woman whom Sahria had not seen before. She was tall, even taller than Sahria, and was as broad as any man. She wore a coarse horsehair tunic and long voluminous pants, which did nothing to flatter her stout body, and she was carrying a number of ropes of varying thickness. Sahria eyed the ropes hungrily, certain that they were for her.
‘I am Jama,’ proclaimed the women in a loud, husky voice. ‘I am bid by the prince to prepare you for the marketplace. Which one of you is Princess Sahria?’
Sahria stood up and bowed meekly. ‘I am she,’ she said, quietly.
The big woman walked up to her and grasped her by the wrists. She tugged her arms apart roughly and held them above her head while she stared unashamedly at Sahria’s superb breasts.
‘Fine tits,’ Jama announced, with the tone of a vendor in a slave market, ‘and the nipples are already pierced.’ She looked down. ‘The cunt-lips too… I like that!’
Sahria saw her lick her lips and began to feel more than a little concerned. It was true that she enjoyed the company of her own sex occasionally, but there was something innately repulsive about this manly creature.
Jama forced her to turn around by twisting her wrists painfully, and then pushed her forward so that she fell against the couch with her elbows resting on the cushions. Sahria felt the woman grip her hips and raise her until her legs were straight and her bottom was presented obscenely.
‘Such a superb arse!’ exclaimed Jama. ‘It is perfect for the purpose I have in mind!’
Sahria felt her pawing the smooth bruised globes of her buttocks and, despite her feelings of revulsion, began to sense a strong desire for more intimate physical contact.
Jama eased a finger into her anus. ‘So tight! I will need to cream it well or the pain will be too severe!’
With these words Sahria became certain that her final virginity would be lost that day. She felt the lips of her pussy opening and her juices beginning to coat the insides of her thighs. She was both afraid and excited at one and the same time. Jama started to move her finger in and out of the tiny hole, and Sahria trembled visibly.
‘Do you like that, princess?’ The big woman spoke in an almost kind tone. Sahria nodded, but Jama laughed cruelly and pulled her finger from within her then slapped her hard on the bottom. ‘Time to prepare you!’ she barked.
Sahria stood erect and waited obediently while Jama sorted through the array of ropes. Calema was sitting on another of the couches, and was watching the proceedings intently. She was naked again and was gently, almost nonchalantly, pulling at the wet lips between her legs with the fingers of one hand, while caressing the bud of her clitoris with the other. Sahria considered that she might be remembering her own time, when she had been trussed and abused by the guards.
Jama ordered Sahria to lie on the floor on her back. She obeyed immediately. The guards were looking at her intently, clearly savouring the sight
of her voluptuous body. Their erections jutted under their loose skirts, two fine cocks that at any other time she would have suckled on voraciously. Her pussy ached. She knew that whatever happened to her in the marketplace she would be happy if someone, anyone, fucked her.
Jama knelt by her side and forced Sahria’s legs back until her knees were pressed hard against the cushion of her breasts. Jama squatted across her and sat heavily on her thighs to hold her in this position, while deftly binding her ankles together with a coarse length of rope. Then, with equal finesse, she bound her wrists to her ankles and tugged the rope tightly before looping it around the back of Sahria’s neck and knotting it once more around her feet.
Further lengths of rope secured her elbows to her knees. Sahria was then pulled forward so that she sat in a painfully awkward position on her bottom and then, while one of the guards held her steady, Jama threaded a final piece of thick rope around her back and under her knees, knotting it against her spine.
The big woman stood up and examined her work proudly. Sahria struggled against the bonds, but knew escape was impossible. She could barely move a finger.
Jama nodded to one of the guards, and he produced some sort of black garment, which looked similar to the phallic pants Calema had so enjoyed. Jama took the garment and knelt once more at her side, and Sahria could now see that it was some sort of hood made from the same exotic material as the pants. There was just one hole, approximately two inches in diameter, cut in the centre.
Jama stretched the garment and quickly pulled it over Sahria’s head. Although tight, the rubber felt comfortable, like a second skin. The hole was positioned over her mouth so that breathing, although difficult, was not impossible. The material was totally impervious to light and Sahria realised that, for the duration of her punishment, she would be blind. The thought both terrified and thrilled her.
She felt herself being pushed onto her back again. The heavy knot pressed against her spine and hurt her, but she knew it was pointless to struggle. The next thing she felt was the sensation of fingers stroking and probing the wet lips of her pussy. Now she understood; the torment of being abused and unable to move due to her bonds would be heightened a hundred-fold by not being able to see what was happening or, indeed, who was abusing her.
