by Felix Baron
‘I’d whisper, “I can’t wait to get your cock in my mouth,” into his ear,’ Tara said. ‘That never fails.’
‘I’m sure it doesn’t,’ I allowed, ‘but first you have to get close enough to whisper. You have to draw him to you. You have to suggest, not shout, that you are available.’
‘How?’ Fatima asked.
‘You are going to be attending courts, visiting great houses. Fatima, I’m afraid that you wouldn’t be welcomed wearing the pretties that you are used to dancing in. Each society is different. Remember how Asp was clad when first we met her. All she could use to draw men was her eyes.’
‘I had a way of moving that moulded my trousers against my thighs,’ Asp said.
‘Thank you, Asp. You make the point for me. You must conform to the society you are in, but tempt men with hints. For example …’ I pulled Iola closer. ‘Where I come from, for evening wear, a lady’s form from her waist down is hidden by crinolines and bustles. Her dress brushes the ground. So …’ I mimed pointing a toe and lifting a skirt. ‘… an ankle that is “accidentally” exposed for the briefest moment will draw the eyes of every man in the room. If the girl can somehow convey to one man that the display wasn’t entirely an accident and was intended to be seen by him alone, that’s tantamount to Tara’s whisper, in effect.’
I smoothed Iola’s chemise wider on her shoulders. ‘In London, today, bared shoulders and half-bared breasts are perfectly acceptable. Thus, if fashion allows this much décolletage …’ I tugged the chemise low on the lush slopes of Iola’s breasts. ‘And she wears her dress thus …’ I pulled it down another two inches. ‘… then the men will gather like dogs to a bitch in heat. And then, if she is alone with the man she has set her cap at, and she stoops to pick up a dropped glove …’ Iola bent without further prompting. ‘Hold that pose,’ I told her. ‘If you look closely you can see that half of her left breast’s aureole peeks over the top of her dress. In an English drawing room, that exposure, even for a fraction of a fraction of a second, will have a man fawning like a puppy.’
‘In heat,’ Tara added.
‘Likewise,’ I continued, ‘the narrow but plunging neckline.’ I pulled down on Chiku’s chemise to plunge hers. ‘Which is of particular use if the girl is less endowed. Men like fulsome breasts but in a room full of them, all modestly covered, if the girl with the smallest breasts has a deep enough neckline, it is she who will garner the greatest attention. It isn’t exposure that draws, it’s the promise of it.’
I turned to Tara, who was wearing the chemise with slits to her hips. ‘In this chamber, at this moment, I may feast my eyes on seven pairs of naked legs, seven bottoms and seven pairs of hips. Who will I watch as she walks, in case I catch a glimpse of her lower parts? Why, Tara.’ She walked for me, rolling her hips. ‘Will her next step reveal the tops of her thighs? Will a pace expose her bottom? What treasures will my eyes delight in next?’
‘This one,’ she said, lifting the skirt of her chemise at the back to bare her bum. ‘We understand, Richard. We’re women, remember? We all know to show an inch more than is proper and promise to show three.’
‘Good,’ I said, somewhat disgruntled to find that I teaching the catechism to the Pope. ‘Perhaps Fatima will teach the rest of you something you don’t already know. Up on this stool, Fatima.’
She hopped up with a grin. I selected a porcelain dildo that approximated a real cock in size and shape. ‘Nice,’ she said. Her knees bent and her mound thrust forward at me.
I set the dildo’s head between the lips of her cunny and pressed a third of its length into her. Releasing it to her internal grip, I said, ‘Show us what you can do, Fatima.’
She straightened and frowned in concentration. Inch by inch, the porcelain was drawn up inside her. My girls applauded. Fatima let the toy descend, then pulled it back. Her pace accelerated until it appeared that some creature, invisible except for his member, was fucking her vigorously.
The girls were suitably impressed.
‘She can do the same with her back passage,’ I told them. ‘You won’t have time to master those skills while you are here but I’d like Fatima to teach you the exercises she performs that will develop the abilities for you.’
‘My pleasure,’ she said. The dildo fell to the floor. Fatima stooped low enough to take Iola’s hand. ‘Feel how I do it,’ she said, feeding three of Iola’s fingers into her cunny.
My object was to teach, diligently, but to delay fucking any of them for as long as possible. Every time I used my cock without reaching my climax its ache seemed to get worse. If I could keep all the girls happily busy, I hoped that neither they nor the eunuch-spies would notice that I wasn’t an active participant.
I called, ‘Elsa!’ Her sturdy little body hurried to my side. Her eagerness, I thought, was born of curiosity about the two-ended dildo I held. ‘Try this. The ends are identical but the straps are designed for this end to go inside the user.’
With her happily busy, I turned to Asuka. ‘I must release your arms,’ I told her. ‘I want you to show the girls your magical Chipatama kiss.’
‘As you command, Richard.’
What a subtle little minx she was! ‘As you command, Richard.’ What a world of meaning she’d compressed into four simple words. Tacitly, she’d offered me anything I wished of her – her cunny – her bottom – her mouth – every delicate delectable part of her, to use or abuse at my whim. I was mightily moved to accept her offer, but resisted. Instead, I set her to demonstrating her technique, the three-finger massage and the dabbing tongue, on Adam’s infallible member.
I told Maria to show off her cross’s secret and use it to teach the others her swallowing skills.
Elsa mastered her straps. I beckoned Jia Li and announced, ‘The Mare’. In that position the man sits up with his legs spread and his knees high. The girl sits in his lap holding his neck, with her calves up over his shoulders. As Elsa and Jia Li demonstrated, I told their audience, ‘This is one way two girls can futter, even without the dildo. Can you see that?’
They nodded, thoughtful, no doubt letting their imaginations work.
‘Can you suggest other ways girls can rub cunny-on-cunny, clit-on-clit?’
They could, of course, and were soon happily showing off their favourite ways. Thus, my pupils were pleasantly engaged, wandering from Asuka’s little show, to Maria’s to Fatima’s and to the experiment in Sapphic loving class.
I talked Elsa and Jia Li through Splitting the Bamboo and then switched the Chinese girl for Asp for The Swastika and The Tripod. Iola and Tara were begging to take turns on Elsa’s imitation cock. Elsa herself was positively glowing as I’d appointed her the class mistress once she’d mastered each new position. She loved to instruct and arrange limbs, which saved me from laying hands on any of the girls’ more desirable parts.
My cock still ached, but not as badly as it would have if I’d been fruitlessly rogering all morning.
After lunch, Jia Li spoiled my plan. She knelt at my feet with the riding crop on her extended palms and a mute plea in her lovely eyes. Well, I’d requested the crop for a reason. That reason wasn’t going to go away.
I took the crop and swished it. ‘Who has felt a crop or cane or similar?’
Jia Li, Chiku and Maria responded. ‘The rest of you very likely will, someday,’ I warned them. ‘Some of you will like it. Some won’t. I can’t teach you to like it but I can teach you not to fear it. If you were to run screaming the moment you saw a crop in your master’s hand, you’d be failing in your mission.’ I slapped the leather shaft on my palm. ‘Girls who have never been cropped fear that half a dozen strokes will cripple or scar them. They won’t. Unless the master is vicious, by the next day your bottoms will be almost healed. You might show a few proud bruises, but no more. If the man is very wicked the marks might last a week. Fear the pain, by all means, but don’t be afraid of being seriously hurt.’
I smiled down at Jia Li. ‘So that you may learn that a be
ating is bearable, I am going to give each of you three strokes, except for Jia Li. She’ll get ten. Tomorrow, you will be able to look at her bottom to see how little damage she shows.’
‘And kiss her bum better,’ Iola said.
Maria asked, ‘I want six, please, Richard.’
‘Very well.’
Hanna put her hand up. ‘If I want more after my three, may I ask for them?’
‘By all means. Anyone who wants more may ask for them. Now, are we ready?’ I took a large soft cushion and put it on the edge of the table. Jia Li bent over it without being prompted. The rest of the girls formed a giggling and chattering line. It’d never been like that when I was at prep school and we lined up for our beatings.
I had a lot of strokes to take so I laid into Jia Li’s bottom steadily. I took care to land each blow squarely. If a crop ‘wraps around’ a hip it can leave a nasty bruise.
As I swung, the girls called out the count, ‘Nine, and ten.’
Jia Li pushed herself up from the table with a polite, ‘Thank you, Sir Richard.’
Asuka took her place. I drew my arm back but was given pause by Jia Li, who had dropped to her knees and had taken my cock’s head into her warm loving mouth. It would have been churlish of me to stop her, so I delivered Asuka’s three slaps. She took them without complaint but didn’t ask for more. Hanna, next in line, took her place. What surprised me was that Asuka took Jia Li’s place fellating me, as if it had been planned. Women can do that – coordinate their efforts without speaking.
Hanna asked for an extra three but yelped on the last one. Fatima bent over the table. Hanna knelt at my feet. Asuka passed her my cock as if it was a pipe they were sharing.
One by one, my pupils endured or enjoyed their beatings and one by one they applied their various techniques to pleasuring my cock. My lust grew more and more urgent. My stones had tightened and relaxed several times. The vein that ran the underside of my cock pulsed so strongly I swear I could hear it beat.
Then it was Maria’s turn. My attention was so much on my cock that perhaps my swings were desultory, for she asked for six more, which I delivered with more vigour. When I was done, instead of standing, she climbed on to the table and swung round on her back to dangle her head back over the edge. Her mouth opened. My girls, clustering around me, pushed me close. Asuka took hold of my shaft between her thumb and fingers to guide it between Maria’s lips.
‘Fuck her face, Richard,’ Tara urged.
Asuka began that massage, three fingers working on my anus, perineum and scrotum. There were hands and lips and tongues all over me. I rocked. My cock’s head glided over Maria’s tongue. Her lips closed around my shaft. Her mouth worked like a suckling baby. I didn’t unleash my full lust. If I had done so, I am sure I’d have done Maria serious harm. Even so, the numbness and tingling that The Child had inflicted on my cock seemed to dissolve. I felt that it wasn’t the physical stimuli I was enjoying that countered her evil potion. It was the incredible outpouring of loving support.
Whatever, my jism poured from me like liquid silk, flowing and flowing for long enough that Maria moved her head aside with her mouth full and Fatima took her place and then Chiku, till I had no more to give.
My class led me to the divan and there I rested until the gong signalled the end of classes for that day.
Kashk and Lom took me past my cell and on towards The Child’s chamber. ‘More chess?’ I asked.
‘No. You are to watch something.’
‘What?’
‘You’ll see.’
I was taken into The Child’s chamber and out the far side, adding to my map. A short corridor brought us to a heavy wooden door. Kashk unlocked it and led me in. We were on a balcony that overlooked a stone pit, perhaps fifty feet across and the same deep. There had to be two dozen wolves sprawled, stalking, licking each other, doing all the things wolves do when not otherwise occupied.
‘All these prowl the corridors after curfew?’ I asked.
‘No. Just the two cousins. All these are their offspring. They are waiting to be sent on their missions.’
I waited to see if he’d share any more but Lom gave him a warning elbow.
I leaned on the parapet and tried to count how many beasts there were but they moved about so I achieved no more accurate a count than my initial, ‘About two dozen.’
A door in the wall at the bottom of the pit opened. The Child entered, followed by the lad with gilded hair. She looked up at me and gave me a merry wave. I waved back, just as merrily.
She walked among her pets, scratching an ear here, patting a head there. Was I supposed to be impressed by her control over the ferocious beasts? If so, I was. It is a far cry from keeping two close by, as pets, to wandering among a giant pack.
She made her way back to the door and exited, leaving the youth behind. As the door closed, the first wolf bristled. Another snarled. The pack began to circle their victim.
One leaped.
I was not going to show my revulsion. Still leaning on the parapet, I unfocused my eyes and commanded my ears not to hear the screams and snarling and the sickening sounds of bones crunching.
I spat, to avoid vomiting, but I don’t think the eunuchs noticed.
Thirty-three
ON THE AFTERNOON of their last day, the girls orchestrated an orgy in my honour. It was a valiant effort. Every last one of them insisted that I pay a farewell visit to all three of her orifices. I still wasn’t able to climax again.
‘Perhaps your next class will do better,’ Iola said.
‘I doubt that. Do you know when I am to expect the new girls?’
‘You have a week to rest, I’m told. We leave in the morning but they won’t be here for seven days. They’ll arrive with the force of Cossacks that The Child is expecting.’
As I kissed my charges goodbye I digested that intelligence. Seven days. If I was going to escape with Honey, it’d have to be soon. The arrival of my new class and the Cossacks would make it more complicated – and there’d be little point in absconding with Honey after a hundred barbaric lechers had been at her. I determined that I would make an opportunity the very next day.
So much for determination. On my first day without a class to teach, I was left abed, in chains, hungry, thirsty and horny and badly needing a pee, until early evening, as best I could judge it.
When Kashk and Lom finally allowed me up and about, the corridors felt hollow. ‘Below the stairs’ was likely just as populated as before, with cooks and maids and lamplighters and guards, hewers of wood and drawers of water, all busy about their mysterious duties, but on this level, my girls were gone. They were all off to seduce their ways into the beds and confidences of the rich and powerful. I should have wished them ill but I couldn’t bring myself to. Instead, I wished them safety and comfort – but not success.
It was up to me to bring their failure about. Now was the time. My first class had graduated. My second was yet to arrive. Carpe diem, Richard, I told myself. Seize the day.
Kashk pranced ahead, slashing at the air with my sabre. ‘There were no sweet chattes for you to fuck today, milord,’ he jeered. ‘No tight culs to bugger, either. Your queue must be in agony.’ He’d been taunting me with similar witticisms from the moment my wrists had been secured to my belt. Even so, I was concerned that he didn’t hold me in deep enough contempt, yet.
Lom prodded my back with the muzzle of my Dragoon while Kashk unlocked the door of bars. Lom hadn’t been taught that ‘touching’ is too close when you have a man at gunpoint. Had my hands been free, he’d have been nursing a broken wrist and begging me not to squeeze my pistol’s trigger.
The buffet was reduced in size but still odd. There were three sorts of blancmange, an aspic of some sort of shredded meats that I didn’t recognise and an enormous platter of pigeons à l’Anglais. In lieu of bread there were potato pancakes. Everything was cold. The candles that had kept the coffee warm had guttered out long since.
I looked at t
he food and at my fettered right wrist, pointedly. Kashk was kind enough to return the use of one hand to me. I made myself simper my thanks.
I swigged cold coffee and chewed on an exceptionally tough pigeon. Lom spooned pink blancmange into his slobbering mouth one-handed until he found it awkward and tucked my Dragoon into his sash. Wisely, he backed twenty feet away from me before he continued his gorging.
Kashk wrapped a portion of the aspic in a pancake and ate with one hand while he idly practised his swordsmanship with the other.
‘Wrist higher, point lower,’ I advised. ‘Like this.’ I demonstrated with a pigeon’s leg as my blade.
He tried to copy me. I was effusive with my praise. He hadn’t learned that the more a man toadies, the greater the danger he is to your back. No doubt inspired by my admiration, Kashk ‘played’ at attacking me. He was as intimidating as a schoolboy with a sharp pencil but I retreated in obvious fear and contrived to topple backwards over a stool. Both eunuchs found this hilarious. I embellished my role as clown by letting the hand I was pressing down on to help me rise, slip. My face hit the floor a little harder than had been my intent. I retrieved my pigeon bone and rose with a split lip.
Rubbing my face in a suitably rueful manner, I told Kashk, ‘Your attack is excellent. How is your defence?’ I made a feint at him with a tiny femur.
I think what he meant to show me was a parry in sixte followed by a riposte. I was reminded of a stage magician I’d once seen, waving his wand.
‘Very good!’ I lied. ‘Are you familiar with the seventh position, the parry septime?’
He shook his head. I tried to demonstrate with my tiny bone but threw it aside in disgust. A wooden knife from the buffet soon followed it as equally inadequate. I spread my hand and shrugged, obviously chagrined at not being able to teach him something new and valuable.
Kashk frowned, looked at me through narrowed eyes and considered. I could read his thoughts as if they were writ large upon his forehead. The walking cane he wore behind him was mere wood and tipped with a blunt brass ferule. The sabre he’d stolen from me was much longer and made of sharp steel. He’d seen for himself that I wasn’t a formidable opponent. Why, he’d had to do no more than wave my sabre at me to send me sprawling.