Increasingly distracted by her rising excitement, the Englishwoman did not understand or much care what he meant. She did as he ordered, smearing his rigid flesh with her saliva while her sex quivered ever more eagerly as the little slave girl added more fingers to those already wriggling inside it. Powerful, teasing thrills added to its dewy heat. The pressure of the girl’s hand increased until it suddenly became so uncomfortable Penny forgot about Raham’s demands and her face twisted in a grimace. Her feminine opening seemed to dilate momentarily and then the discomfort ended as it shrank again.
“Ooh!” Penny clenched her buttocks and felt herself contract around something much bigger than fingers. Her gut twisted in sudden horror. It was the slave girl’s wrist! Her whole hand was inside Penny’s helpless pussy and it was sinking deeper.
“No, no, stop it! Oh, please!”
“Quiet, Penny,” Courtney said. “Remember you are here to satisfy His Highness’s wishes, not your own.”
“But it’s her arm! Oh god, a woman’s arm!” She jerked frantically and uselessly as the slave’s fingers slid further and stretched her wider.
“Relax. It’s hardly bigger than my cock and you can take that easily enough,” he said carelessly. “And it’s only her forearm, not the whole thing.”
“Oh, no!” Penny felt the forearm sink deeper still and the girl stroking higher on her sensitive walls. It made no difference that Courtney was right. The arm was quite slender and his erection was pretty big, but that did not stop Penny cringing in embarrassment at the perversity of what was being done to her. Neither, however, did it lessen her rippling arousal. The girl began giving short, quick thrusts of her hand while her fingers continued their tickling and the Englishwoman found it impossible not to respond to their stimulus. Through her horror and humiliation a low, breathy groan escaped her lips.
“Ah, I believe you’re fully prepared, Mrs. Winter,” Raham Dil said.
Penny craned her neck to see over her shoulder as he moved behind her. The little slave sank out of sight somewhere beneath the table but did not withdraw her arm and her madly teasing fingers were provoking pulsing waves of pleasure inside Penny. The other slave girl positioned herself at the right of the table and leaned over. Drips of milk from her leaking breasts splashed Penny’s perspiring skin.
“Ooh, don’t, that hurts!” she cried. The milkmaid had clasped her hands onto the twin rounds of her aching buttocks and was pulling them apart. Jerking ineffectually, Penny only succeeded in increasing her pain by thrusting her back and belly against the restraining bars of the table.
“Keep her wide,” she heard Raham Dil say, and her stomach turned over as the pressure of the milkmaid’s fingers against her tender flesh increased, broadening the furrow between her buttocks and revealing what lay between to the Prince. She shivered at the idea of being so exposed and again at the tremors filling her, and then her hips bucked as Raham’s fat fingertip traced a line down her rear crease and pressed against her tight muscle. Reflexively, it contracted and clamped her tighter around the girl’s forearm.
“Oh, no, please!” Penny begged in sudden, horror-stricken understanding, and heard his rumble of laughter.
“She’s good and tight, Courtney, just as you said. You know, there’s nothing quite so enjoyable as one that’s never been entered before.
In my experience, no matter how hard she tries the girl just can’t make herself go slack the first time. And there’s so much pleasure to be had in overcoming the resistance, and in the way they squirm and wriggle and cry. And when you do finally break in they always have such a tight grip, even if they don’t want to.” He laughed again. “Yes, I’m really going to enjoy this, Mrs. Winter. A captain, I believe you said your husband was?”
Penny’s gut was twisting and wrenching. “Please, Highness, you -.
Ow! Agh!” Her desperate pleas had hardly begun when something pushed hard against her little ring, which automatically pinched tighter and, to Penny’s utter revulsion, made her grip all the more on the arm inside her. The painful pressure increased and she flinched from it, only to be brought up short by the wooden bar across her belly digging into the fronts of her thighs and that at her back into the tops of her buttocks.
“Oh-ho, she is tight, Courtney! As tight as I’ve ever known.”
She heard Raham Dil chuckling gleefully, and a jerk of his hips increased his pressure on her crimping pucker. Her hurt increased along with the horrible force he was exerting on her delicate little knot. Penny knew there was only one way to escape it – to relax and allow the rigid flesh to thrust its way inside. But the idea of such a thing was abhorrent to her, and in any case the same wilful refusal by her body to obey her that was causing her trembling excitement was also preventing her from controlling her muscles. Even when, after well over a minute of gasping and whimpering in pain must have passed and she had accepted the inevitable, her rear remained firmly constricted. It stabbed and stung under Raham’s assault and Penny grew increasingly desperate.
Yet, along with the pain she still felt the pleasure tickling through her, the contrast between the two creating the oddest sensation she had ever experienced. It was one that mercifully came to her rescue. The slave girl began opening and closing her fist and its tickling touch on Pennys sensitive sheath sent a sudden spasm rippling along its length. As it teased through the whole of her lower belly she relaxed for a moment.
Raham Dil seemed to sense it. He gave a grunt and a hard lunge that slapped his fat, sagging gut against Penny’s pain-racked bottom and finally prised her open. A sharp, fiery sting seared through her suddenly dilated rear. Hurt and shock mingling, she cried out and for the first time felt her insides expand under a man’s thrusts. It was almost as painful as his cruel method of entry.
“Ah, she yields at last!” the Prince cried triumphantly. “And what a tussle it was, Mrs. Winter. Well done. Well done, indeed!”
His words just added to her cringing humiliation and were scarcely audible above Penny’s own anguished cries as her muscle reflexively tightened again and clamped around the thing stretching it. That anguish increased as the Prince pulled out and immediately forced his way back in again with no more lubrication than her own saliva. Six more times he repeated the same action, while Penny writhed in torment and tears streamed down her cheeks and sweat down her body. She begged desperately for him to stop the dreadful discomfort he was causing and he laughed.
“Oh, Mrs. Winter, why would I want to stop when I’m having so much fun?”
Still she could not help but continue her frantic pleading, but when he did finally stop she knew it was not because of that. He remained sunk all the way inside her with the weight of his massive belly lying on her buttocks and the milkmaid’s hands that still held them apart. Raham pushed the girl aside and ran his paws over Penny’s sweat-sheened skin, leaning more of his weight on her and driving even deeper as his fat fingers groped her dangling breasts.
“You’re doing splendidly, Mrs. Winter,” he rasped, and she felt his breath between her shoulder blades. “Now you only need to come.”
“Ooh, no!” Penny wailed despairingly, but her pain had not stopped her quivering from the tantalising touch of the slave girl’s fingers. In sudden shock, she realized they were pressing on that part of her sheath closest to Raham’s penetrating member. The girl was rubbing it through the thin-walled membrane that separated it from her hand, stimulating both Penny and the Prince at the same time.
“Yes, girl, yes,” Raham Dil panted. “Finish her off. Get her clamping down.”
“Tell her to rub her bud,” Courtney said. “She’s very sensitive there. That’ll bring her off.”
The slave clearly understood, for her free hand did as he had suggested, chafing vigorously. Half-crushed by the Prince’s mountainous obesity, racked by pain and pleasure and with her senses reeling under the assault of so many diverse sensations, the Englishwoman felt a rippling thrill of delight tingle its way through her. For long, heart-
stopping seconds she teetered on the edge, refusing to believe what she was feeling in the midst of such horrid, humiliating torment. The first wriggling contraction seized her, and suddenly she was writhing madly in surging waves of pleasure.
As a rush of excitement seized her her muscles contracted, wriggling wildly around the slave’s forearm and convulsing uncontrollably around the Prince’s flesh. It seemed the girl’s fingers were striking sparks of pleasure on Penny’s sensitive tissues while at the same time the stretching of her rear intensified her pain. Abruptly, Raham lunged forward, and seconds later gave a bellow like a bull, his lard-laden body bucking and bouncing against her. Penny was as disgusted by her own behaviour as she was by his.
Soon afterwards, he slid from her with a sloppy, sucking sound and the slave girl’s arm withdrew at last. Finally freed from her confinement by the Indian milkmaid Penny sank into a crouching ball on the tabletop and sobbed bitterly. Except for the aftermath of her orgasm still tingling faintly, every part of her stung or ached or throbbed terribly. She felt debased and degraded. That part of her body she had denied even to her husband and her lovers had been violated in the cruellest way by a gross and obese monster. He was not even a white man. God help the poor slave girls he held in his wicked grasp, Penny thought, and remembered Kate and Julia and her purpose.
With an effort, she lifted her head and blinked her tears away.
Raham stood obscenely naked in front of her, pudgy paws resting on the folds of fat covering his hips. Kneeling at his feet, her right arm shiny all the way to the elbow, the little slave was lapping at him.
He laughed. “An excellent performance, Mrs. Winter, and a unique experience for us both. Sahar Gul was right, Courtney. It is very satisfying to humble a white woman such as this. I see now why you were so free in flogging her.”
“Her arrogance invites it, Highness. But I think her lessons are beginning to have the right effect.”
Penny turned her head towards him and saw the self-satisfied grin that she expected. He was buttoning his trousers. Next to him the pregnant white girl was still bound. A long, thin string of fluid dangled from her lower lip.
“You’ve pleased me well, Mrs. Winter,” the Prince said.
“Ordinarily I would grant your request to travel into the mountains.”
Her belly turned over as her future vanished at the whim of an ugly, fat man. “But you promised…”
He held up a hand to silence her. “I promised to consider it. As it happens you have no need to go to the mountains. The man you are seeking has come here instead.”
Penny heard the tap of boot-heels on the tiled floor behind her, and summoned her remaining strength to look over her shoulder. Her heart leapt.
“Oh my god, it’s you!”
Chapter 7
Julia stood in the shade of a fig tree staring unseeing at the girls exercising on the grass. She had never imagined that love could hurt so much. Oh, heaven, love! How on earth could it have happened in this remote, alien land and in such unbelievable circumstances? How in a few short days crammed with so much anxiety and humiliation could she have fallen in love with a man whose sole purpose was to make her into a slave girl for someone else? She remembered him walking down the steps of the bath and coming towards her with a smile on his handsome face. The warmth it caused in her belly only made the awful ache in her heart turn to stabbing pain.
Tears filled Julia’s eyes. What a fool she had made of herself with her delusions that he actually cared, that in so short a time she could have taken her place in his affections along with Afia and Reshmina and the others. She had offered him everything – her submission, her body, her heart and soul – and he had thrown them back in her face. To him they were valueless, and so was she except as a present for his brother. If his aqueduct had been ready in time he would not even have known she existed. Julia felt a flash of anger as she imagined Jahngir’s amused smile when he thought about her naïve little dream. It faded quickly, and once more there was nothing but the cold, bitter desolation of her heartache.
Afia came towards her. “Come and join us. My lord will be displeased if you neglect your exercise.”
Julia had not noticed her approach. ‘My lord’, she thought, and remembered the thrill she had felt the one and only time she had dared to address the Pathan that way, moments before he had devastated her with the truth. “I don’t care.” She burst into tears.
Afia’s big, damply perspiring breasts crushed against her own as she wrapped Julia in her arms. “I know it’s hard, but you have to keep going,” she said. “I’ve never seen Jahngir like this before. He could do anything. You mustn’t provoke him.”
Julia sobbed against the girl’s shoulder. “Oh, I want him so much, Afia. And I want him to want me.” The arms around her tightened.
“I know,” Afia said gently. “I tried to tell you. I wanted to do it sooner, but my lord forbade it. But you must think of yourself now. You have only a few days left here. You don’t want to spend them being punished. Come and exercise with us and then we will go to the bath.”
The English girl shook her head despondently. “It doesn’t matter any more. Oh, Afia, you and the other girls made me feel…. And Jahngir too. I was so shy when I came here but I felt that was changing.”
She eased from the girl’s grasp and met her eye. “I was too timid to do anything except what everyone else expected me to. Then I saw Mrs.
Winter’s advertisement and ended up in India, and then I thought it had all gone horribly wrong when I was abducted.” She gestured at the house and garden. “But this place…. I had never looked inside myself before, never asked who I was or what I wanted. The things I’ve seen and done and felt here and the people I’ve met changed that.” Julia gave a thin, ironic smile. “The answers weren’t what I expected but they’re what I got and I can’t alter that. I want to stay here and love Jahngir Khan the way you and the other girls do, and… and to have him love me.” Her tears began again and Afia took her in her arms once more.
“It would be useless to tell you that in time you’ll get over it, or try to make you believe that one day you will love your master as much as you now love his brother. But, trust me, until that day comes you will find the strength to carry on.”
Strength, Julia thought. It was not something she had ever possessed in abundance, certainly not the physical kind, but that was not Afia’s meaning. She was talking about strength of will, and much to Julia’s surprise she realized that was something else she had discovered in herself recently. Apart from her one moment of panic on her first day, she had not surrendered to hysteria as she was sure many English girls would have in her position. She had accepted her fear and done her best to control it, even at times to channel it to help her deal with the embarrassing and uncomfortable situations she had had to face. And those very situations had not only increased her determination but also her self-confidence. Julia sighed. Now both had shrivelled once more, along with her fractured heart.
Afia abruptly disentangled her hold on Julia and stepped away.
The English girl followed the direction of her gaze and saw Jahngir Khan dressed in his blue robe walking down the path towards them.
“Come, girl,” he said, frowning. “You too, Afia.” He turned back to the zenana. Julia followed dejectedly. She had ceased to be ‘little murgah’ the moment she had broken down in tears after he had told her who her master was to be.
The Pathan sat on one of the zenana’s couches and pointed to the cup and brass tray resting on a side-table. “Watch, girl. Afia.”
Clearly she knew what he wanted without being told. Afia took the tray in both hands, sank to the floor several feet in front of him and seemed to glide forward on her knees. Holding her body low, she raised her arms higher than her bowed head and offered the cup on the tray to Jahngir. He made her repeat her lithe, graceful movements a half-dozen times before turning to Julia. “Now you.”
Apathetically, she took the tray, knelt
and shuffled awkwardly towards him. It tilted as she raised it and the cup slid towards its rim.
“Again,” Jahngir snapped, and made a sound of annoyance when her second attempt was no better than the first. “Did you even trouble to watch?” he demanded, and had Afia demonstrate again. As the native girl passed Julia the tray, she raised her eyebrows and gave a small, warning shake of her head.
“Go and bathe, Afia,” the Pathan ordered, and for several seconds after she had gone sat silently and sternly staring at the kneeling English girl. She sat back on her heels. The tray in her hands pressed on the undersides of her big breasts, lifting them higher. Julia saw Jahngir’s eyes flicker to her up-tilted nipples.
“What am I to do with you, girl?”
Love me, she wanted to say and felt the ache of longing and regret grow worse. She gave a sigh of her own, and saw his eyes again drop to the movement of her breasts. He had asked her once if she had any ambitions. To love and be loved had been her answer and now more than ever it was true. Was she going to let her only chance of seeing that ambition fulfilled slip through her fingers without a fight? Would she retreat into her shell and let her shyness defeat her as it had always done?
The strength Julia thought had deserted her surged up inside again, and she looked determinedly at the evidence of Jahngir’s interest in her that was tenting the silk of his robe where it covered his groin. Very obviously he still found her beautiful. Plainly he still desired her. Julia moved her knees further apart and arched her back, revealing the full length of a pussy she knew was suddenly gleaming with her dew, and a love-bud she could feel growing larger. Jahngir’s black eyes widened and she saw his nostrils flare.
With all the grace and poise she could muster, Julia glided her naked body to his feet as Afia had, and offered up the tray. Heart thumping, she raised her blonde head and looked into his face. Dark, intense eyes lifted from the roundness of her downward-pointing breasts to the gloss of her rouged lips and the brightness of her blue eyes.
Kate and Julia: Slave Girls of the Raj Page 12
