The Persian Girl

by Felix Baron

  ‘Did you spend?’ Fatima asked me, concern in her voice.

  I shook my weary head.

  ‘Come,’ she said.

  With four or five girls supporting me, I was guided to a sumptuous divan and helped to lie down.

  Someone said, ‘Poor man.’

  I wanted to protest the sympathy but had neither the will nor the strength. The only part of me that was still able to stand was my monstrous stiff cock. All ten lovelies clustered around me, even Iola. Fatima lifted my head, sat, and lowered it into her lap. Asp threw a leg across me to set her foot beside my hip. With her other foot still planted on the floor, she lowered herself. Her serpent took my cock into its mouth and swallowed it. Asp sank down on to my shaft until the lips of her cunny overlapped the golden ring that encircled its base. She swayed as she raised and lowered herself, working her clit on my cock’s smooth metal cuff at the nadir of each stroke.

  With both of Fatima’s breasts being dangled over me and one of Tara’s being offered to my lips from the side, my vision was limited. I didn’t see who it was that steered my fingers to, and into the yielding humidity of her cunny. My scrotum was caressed. Lips and tongues worked on my toes. It was likely Hanna who lapped the sweat that trickled down my side.

  How sweetly solicitous my girls were! As agents of Russia, they were my country’s sworn enemies, but I felt no enmity towards them. They were not to blame. Every one of them, no matter whence she came, had been a pariah in her own land, denigrated and persecuted for no greater crime than being overtly sensual. The Child had offered them acceptance and even appreciation. Those are supremely seductive. It was little wonder they were in her thrall. They had no more choice in following her than goslings do in trailing after their mothers.

  Asp climaxed, sagged and climbed off me. Hanna took her place with a grin.

  Tara exclaimed, ‘By all the Saints, we have us a man with a cock that faileth never. If we only had two more like him, we could all be made content.’

  I remembered her boast of enjoying three men at a time. ‘You mean that you could be made content, my greedy little colleen. What about the rest of the girls?’

  Their laughter broke the tension that my inability to climax had engendered. I’d recovered enough to hump up and meet Hanna’s vigorous downward thrusts. Whoever I was finger-fucking – I believe it was Chiku – spent on my hand. Hanna grunted and dismounted. I took the opportunity to extract myself from the press of flesh with my cock no closer to discharging than it had been when I’d broken my fast that morning.

  We paused to eat our lunch – left-over food from breakfast. The eggs had congealed but the ham was fine. Once more, I fed the eunuchs, sending Fatima to make the delivery. Lom wouldn’t care but Kashk had enough man left in him to enjoy the sight of her lush body.

  We brushed our fingers off and wiped our mouths.

  ‘The Kama Sutra devotes many pages to the art of kissing,’ I announced loudly, for my guards’ sake. ‘We have a great deal to cover in ten days and I’m sure you have all been kissed, often. For that reason, I will teach you each kiss once and once only. You must concentrate.’

  Maria asked, ‘Are you going to show each of us every kiss, Richard?’

  ‘No. I want you to form a line. I will name the kiss and then demonstrate it with the girl at the front. She will pass it on to the next girl, and so on down the line. The first girl will go to the back of the line after she has passed the kiss on, so that each of you will get a chance to be …’

  ‘Kissed by you,’ Fatima interrupted.

  I didn’t argue. The girls lined up, with Asp first and Hanna second, ready to translate for her.

  ‘I think we can practise the three “Maiden’s Kisses” all at once.’ I took hold of Asp’s shoulders. ‘First, there is a simple lip-to-lip.’ I brushed my mouth against Asp’s. The little tease ran the sole of her foot up the back of my calf. ‘Next, the maiden grows bolder with the “throbbing kiss”.’ I projected my lower lip and slid it between Asp’s. ‘With the third maidenly buss, the little minx teases her lover with a delicate touch of her tongue, but no more than a touch.’ I demonstrated. Asp’s lips parted. She swayed forward to rub her cunny on my thigh. Somehow, I resisted her invitations.

  My plan – to make this lesson less of a strain on my self-control, was being severely tested, and we hadn’t got past the ‘innocent’ kisses yet. I sent Asp to the rear of the line with a smart whack on her rump to speed her.

  Hanna took her place with a look on her face that warned me of temptation to come.

  ‘The Kama Sutra differentiates between kisses with different pressures,’ I almost gabbled. ‘You need no instruction in “soft, medium, hard”, I’m sure. We’ll move ahead to the lip kisses. These do not involve tongues,’ I added quickly. My lips closed on Hanna’s lower one, then her upper one, then nibbled on them both together. That’s a caress that strikes me as extremely dull, but it’s in the book.

  Somehow my hand was on Hanna’s hip and she was undulating against me as we kissed. In my naked priapic state, her writhing was much more effective than had I been clothed and not yet erect. I sent her to the back, without a pat on her bottom, even though she twitched it at me.

  I covered ‘Battle of the Tongues’ with Elsa, wishing she were Chiku, and then realised that although the Kama Sutra lists many more kisses, they only differ from each other by the time of day and the state of relationship rather than being true physical variations. I wasn’t going to be cheated out of Chiku’s mouth, though.

  I announced, ‘I’d like to get to at least the first two positions for lovemaking today. To save time, I’ll simply demonstrate the rest of the kisses, without describing them.’

  Fatima’s mouth and mine met like old friends, not that familiarity lessened my pleasure. Maria seemed intent on swallowing my tongue, as usual. Jia Li surrendered her mouth, letting my tongue and lips play as they wished but initiating nothing. Asuka simulated passion but was too predictable. The flick of her tongue’s tip on mine was always followed by it lifting to offer the nectar pooled beneath it. She had a trick with curling her tongue and trilling that invariably preceded a strong rhythmic suck.

  Tara told me, ‘Until today, I’d never kissed a girl. Now I’m kissing nine of them.’

  ‘How are you enjoying it?’

  ‘Very much. Now kiss me!’

  She had very mobile lips, which I enjoyed. She was a little more aggressive than I liked but my mouth soon tamed hers. I’m happy to say that I left her panting and starry-eyed.

  Iola was pliant in my arms but tentative with her kisses. Perhaps she was still recovering from her first experience of being buggered.

  And then it was Chiku’s turn. Lips that are slightly everted remind me of a cunny’s lips, not in appearance but in vulnerability. With such a mouth, even one of the ‘maiden kisses’ is an intimate act. I took Chiku’s elegant face between my hands and bent to brush my lips on hers. She was tall. I didn’t have to hunch right over, as I’d had to with Jia Li and Fatima. I recapitulated the entire repertoire, from the purest to the most prurient. She squirmed against me, rubbing her breasts across my chest and thrusting her hips up and forward to press and part the petals of her sex about the base of my column. I felt her go up on to the tips of her toes and when that didn’t raise her high enough, she made a little jump. Her legs wrapped around mine. The wetness of her slid down the length of my shaft. She paused and did a little shimmy. It was then that I realised she was frigging her clit on my golden ring.

  ‘You need it, don’t you?’ I said.

  ‘Mmmm.’ Her tone spoke more eloquently of her desire than any words could have.

  I broke from her arms, set her down and announced. ‘The first position is called “Indrani”. I don’t need to tell you that a man should never enter a woman before she is aroused and her cunny seeps its dew. To save time, I’m going to assume that Chiku here is already wet and eager.’

  A couple of the girls giggled. Hanna drawl
ed, ‘When is she not?’

  ‘Better make sure you’re in the same condition, Hanna. You could be next.’

  ‘Promises.’ To Iola she said, ‘You can give me a hand.’ She guided the Greek’s fingers to her cunny. ‘You need the girl-girl practice.’

  I took Chiku’s arm and led her to the divan. ‘In this position,’ I said, posing her as I spoke, ‘you are on your back with your knees pulled up to touch your breasts.’ I climbed up. ‘Your feet are tucked into my armpits, to take some of my weight.’ With my body straight as a lance, my weight on my toes and on the soles of her feet, I smiled down on her. ‘Am I too heavy for you?’

  ‘Please hurry up!’

  ‘I enter her, thus.’

  The girls huddled close to watch as my cock’s engorged head parted Chiku’s tight black curls and slid up inside her.

  ‘She can control the depth of penetration by pushing up with her feet.’

  ‘But I don’t want to,’ Chiku said. ‘Fuck me hard, Richard.’

  And so I did, and with my cock’s ring flicking across the startlingly pink head of her clit, she climaxed before more than ten minutes passed. As gently as my raging lust allowed, I rolled her aside and pulled Hanna down under me.

  ‘Indira can easily lead into the position called “The Flower in Bloom”. Get your feet up close to your hips, Hanna. Lift your bum on your palms. Tilt up towards me.’

  Hanna had likely tried that position a hundred times before, but rarely with a man of my dimensions and never with one whose cock was banded with gold. I went into her smoothly but with gusto. She rewarded me with a deep grunt. For a while, I limited the depth of my thrusts. My concern was that gold ring. Cunnies are less delicate than many men give them credit for but I didn’t want to bruise my girls there if I could help it.

  Hanna, however, thrust up at me with such vigour that I was buried to the hilt. She lubricated copiously. My thrusts squelched. Her fingers clawed at my arms. Her face twisted into a lustful grimace. Our audience urged her on, ‘Let it go, Hanna!’ ‘Show us how much you can squirt, Hanna!’

  Hands reached between us to tweak her nipples. Someone, I believe it was Maria, got a finger to Hanna’s clit, so I leaned back a little to give her room.

  Hanna half-sat up beneath me. Her belly creased and contracted. Aromatic juices, so hot they felt they were scalding me, squirted out from between my shaft and her cunny’s lips. I withdrew, still rampant – still aching. Almost croaking, I announced, ‘Next, “The Churn”.’

  Thirty

  KASHK SAID, ‘TURN right.’

  I memorised, Fifteen paces, turn right. ‘Where are we going?’ I asked.

  ‘She wants to see you.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘She says you’re a player of chess.’

  I was and am, but not an accomplished one. Once I had the honour of playing a friendly game against the French champion, Pierre Saint-Amant. He trounced me.

  So The Child wanted to play chess with me, did she? Scotching her fiendish plans had to take priority over saving Honey. Sitting across a board from her, even with a sword at my back, I’d have an excellent opportunity to crush her larynx and possibly rip her throat clean out. I knew that Kashk would run me through but unless he was lucky and pierced my heart, I had some chance of surviving, unless Lom shot me dead, which he most certainly would.

  Very well. So be it.

  I consigned, A hundred and four paces, turn left, to memory. We entered the stark chamber that was divided by The Child’s ornate grill. Damn it, the chess table was set up abutting the bars. She’d be reaching through them to play. Even so … If she reached through and I grabbed her wrist and snatched her forward against the wrought iron, my other hand still had a fair chance of finding her throat.

  Lom held my cocked Dragoon on me while Kashk freed my right wrist from my golden belt. I flexed my fingers, already feeling the wet crunch as they crushed The Child’s larynx. Kashk reconnected my manacle to a foot-long chain that was attached to my metal collar. I sat. Yet another chain came into play, running taut from my waist down to a ring set in the floor. I wasn’t going to be lunging at anyone. It’d be all I could manage to do to play a piece of mine that had reached the far side of the board.

  The Child appeared in a little girl’s dark-blue velvet party dress. Perhaps I was being honoured. More likely, she had dressed up to intimidate me by pointing up my nakedness. If so, her effort was wasted. I’d gone bare for so long it seemed natural and my unfailing erection, although a problem, was certainly nothing to be ashamed of.

  ‘There are things I need, for my teaching,’ I told her.

  ‘Such as?’

  I recited my list. She allowed that I could have them. ‘Shall we play?’ she invited.

  I had white. My opening gambit was for ‘Fool’s Mate’. She avoided the juvenile ambush and routed me in eight moves. My next ploy, in our second game, was to offer my queen’s knight as bait to trap her queen. She took the bait but avoided the trap.

  ‘How ironic!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘What is?’

  ‘You have not been dubbed but you are, figuratively speaking, a knight in the service of your Queen, Victoria. Symbolically, you just sacrificed yourself, but to no avail.’

  I gave her a puzzled look.

  ‘You – the chess piece – it represents you and you just … Never mind.’ From then she played quickly and spitefully, decimating my pieces. She announced, ‘Check and mate,’ and swept off, no doubt to find more intelligent company, such as her wolves.

  My gaolers led me back to my cell by a different route, adding to the mental plan I was compiling. Kashk danced ahead, wielding my sabre, practising lunges and making a poor showing of it.

  ‘Stamp harder with your leading foot,’ I told him. ‘Keep the trailing leg straighter and lower. Be a jabbing lance.’

  He tried again, performing no better.

  ‘Bravo! You have a natural talent for fencing.’

  The fool positively glowed.

  A door to the right opened. A thin man, all in black, including his turban, emerged, wearing a bulky satchel and carrying two unlit lamps. When he saw us he darted back and snatched the door shut. I’d had almost two seconds to glimpse beyond it. There was an arrow slit through which I’d seen the night sky, tinged with pink at the horizon. A narrow and steep stone stairway spiralled downwards but not up.

  Now I knew which direction West was. My assumptions, that we were in the upper structure and that there was a ‘below the stairs’ where the chores were taken care of and where menials resided, were confirmed.

  I wondered how well a gigantic wolf could negotiate a precipitous spiral staircase.

  That night I was allowed the use of my bed, with both wrists chained to the wall above my head. I reviewed my mental architectural sketch. It had too many gaps to be of much use but I’d keep working on it. Perhaps the girls could be induced to divulge some information about their quarters.

  The gong sounded once, and perhaps a quarter-hour later, again.

  I felt somewhat smug about our little chess tournament. Megalomaniacs are quick to accept that other people are stupid. My first encounter with The Child’s salve had rendered me both delirious and horny. The second, applied by Fatima that very morning, had stiffened my yard and dulled it but it hadn’t affected my intelligence as much as before. Even my lust, though still made intoxicatingly strong, hadn’t been so overpowering as it had. There was no doubt in my mind that I was developing a resistance. That was an asset. It was imperative, however, that I conceal my small advantage. I’d started my deception by playing chess so badly that The Child had been convinced my brain’s functions were still blunted. I would continue it by acting the satyr with my pupils.

  I could do that.

  That night I dreamed that I heard wolves howling and when I woke, they were.

  Thirty-one

  THE FRESHLY-CATERED BUFFET was as generous, and as odd, as the previous ones. I sent a platter of
overcooked bacon to the eunuchs, via Iola’s delicate hand. The devilled goat’s kidneys were half raw and stringy. I made do with quince preserves spread on chapattis. There was too much chicory in the coffee.

  While I ate, Fatima anointed my cock.

  ‘The success of a spanking,’ I announced, ‘depends as much on the one who is spanked as on the one performing the act.’

  Both Elsa and Jia Li perked up.

  Tara wanted to know, ‘But a man puts a girl over his knee and whacks her bum. What does she have to do with how it turns out?’

  ‘You’ll see.’ Turning to the rest, I said, ‘If you’ve ever been spanked, put your hand up.’

  Fatima, Maria, Jia Li and Chiku each raised an arm.

  ‘If you enjoyed it, put the other hand up.’

  The same four responded.

  ‘So – everyone here who has tried it has enjoyed it. Most of the rest of you will as well, provided it is performed correctly by both parties.’

  Tara said, ‘I still don’t understand …’

  ‘You will. An awkward spanking gives no pleasure to anyone. One that is elegantly performed can be exciting. People become addicted to being spanked but one that is clumsily executed can be a disaster. You see, a spanking is like a duet, a dance for two. In a waltz, a man leads and a woman follows. If the man misleads or the woman fails to follow, they could stumble and fall.’

  Jia Li, Asuka and Fatima looked puzzled by my reference to a ‘waltz’. I reminded myself that my pupils came from many cultures. To clarify, I continued, ‘When tumblers or acrobats perform, throwing and catching each other, they must both be skilled.’

  Tara, still unclear, asked, ‘But the man forces …’

  ‘And the woman willingly bends to that force, even though she pretends to resist it. She has her moves to make, her grace to contribute. I will demonstrate with the aid of …’ I looked from girl to girl, deliberately teasing. ‘… Jia Li.’

  She squealed with delight before recovering her usual demure expression.