“Many times I have imagined my seed on the faces of the haughty, white mem-sahibs, Courtney,” Sahar Gul said as the girl finished her task and drew back. “It is most satisfying to have finally really done it to one of them.” His hand tightened on Penny’s skull. “Look at me, Mem-sahib Winter, and swallow.”
Staring up into his eyes in an agony of humiliation, she forced the horrid, bitter stuff down to her crawling stomach and fought the instant urge to puke it back up. Sahar drew her to her feet by her hair. With one hand he grasped the heavy roundness of one bare breast and slipped two fingers of the other into her slick warmth. His face split into a grin.
“She is aroused, Courtney. See, her bud is sticking out. It seems that not all mem-sahibs are cold, unfeeling bitches.” His thumb grazed the swollen bud and made Penny gasp at the tickle of excitement it created. His hand withdrew and she smelled her musk on the fingers that lifted her chin. “She seems prepared to put up with a great deal to find these missing girls of hers. They must mean a great deal to you, woman, for you to attach such importance to recovering them.”
“Th… they do,” Penny agreed, flinching under his hard stare.
His laughter was not at all comforting. “Then let’s see how far you are willing to go.” He pointed to a wooden platform that stood on its own close to one wall of the room. “Go and kneel on that.”
Yasmeena’s sharply indrawn breath added to the trepidation already filling Penny as she obeyed. She did not fail to see the rack on the wall nearby with an array of fearsome-looking canes and whips that filled her with a hollow dread. Trembling, she climbed onto the platform, a box-shape about five feet long and three wide, its surface padded with dark-brown leather. A vertical steel post was fixed to the centre of the long edge at either side, their upper ends joined by a wooden crossbar.
“Reach up and grasp the bar,” Sahar said as he approached her, and Penny looked nervously over her shoulder and saw Courtney grinning cruelly. She groped her shaking hands upwards until her fingers curled around the wood. To reach, she had to kneel upright with her thighs pressed together. “You will keep holding it until I say you can let go,”
the wazir said. “Do it sooner and you can forget any idea of going into the mountains.” He went to the wall rack. “She’s felt the cane already, Courtney, from the look of those stripes on her backside.”
“The whip and strap too, though only the lighter sort,” Courtney replied.
“Then we’ll see how she deals with something heavier.”
Penny’s heart thudded as Sahar took a broad leather strap attached to a chequered wooden handle from the rack. The instrument was thick and heavily stitched. It was going to hurt horribly. The wazir would not be lenient. She knew she was a surrogate for every white woman who had ever patronised and disdained and insulted him. He meant to extract his revenge from her. Penny gulped. Should she call a halt before her suffering began? But to do that would mean her losing both the girls and her only chance of restoring her fortunes. She could not bring herself to waste everything she had been through already. Taking a deep breath she summoned all of her determination. It was a surprise as well as a relief when Sahar announced she would receive only six strokes, but the latter was short-lived.
“Six to the thighs, six to those fat tits and six on your arrogant backside. I do enjoy seeing a white skin redden under the whip, Courtney. It’s so much more obvious and immediate than the effect on a brown one.” He laughed wickedly and flicked the leather in his hand backwards.
Her gut wrenching violently, Penny tightened her grip on the bar above her and clamped her jaws tight. Her position on the platform raised her out-thrust breasts to the same height as the wazir’s chest. From the way he was eyeing them she had no doubt where his first stroke would land. Why, she wondered irrelevantly, were her nipples still stiffly erect? The hard, rosy cones seemed to invite the man to abuse them.
Sahar accepted the invitation. His arm shot forward. Penny had not even time to close her eyes. She heard the hiss of displaced air and a split second later the vicious crack of the strap on her flesh sent fiery torment through her tender teats. They bounced furiously from the blow, and Penny fought for all she was worth to keep her hold on the bar and not reach for the source of her sudden agony. She threw back her head and howled.
Scorching pain exploded in the fronts of her thighs. She howled again, her fingers trying to dig into the wood beneath them as she jerked madly and tossed her head. Fresh fire blazed across her breasts and then once more her soft-skinned thighs. Courtney at his most demanding had not struck so savagely, and he had fastened her in place. It was so much harder when she also had to battle the desperate need to clutch at her hurts. Yet Penny hung on while the wazir alternated the blows of the biting leather between her breasts and thighs. Tears streamed down her cheeks and sweat down her twisting body as the heavy whip tore into skin and burned the flesh beneath it in a fury of excruciating pain. She had no breath to beg, only to cry out in torment. The cries grew in pitch and volume with every fearsome lash until her howls had turned to shrieks and even she could not believe she had found strength enough to keep her grip on the bar.
Tortuous seconds passed before Penny realized she could no longer hear the wicked crack of leather and that her breasts had ceased their demented bouncing and the sensitive flesh of her thighs had stopped yielding under the fiery blows. Her pain scarcely diminished however, and Sahar moving behind her reminded her it was not yet at an end.
Casting a dreading glance over her shoulder, she shuddered as she watched him raise his arm. The broad tongue of the whip rose with it and swished downwards to blaze a scorching trail across Penny’s helpless buttocks. Already ravaged by Courtney’s cane and lash, they flamed and throbbed unbearably under the fresh assault. Twice Penny almost let go of the wood to fend off the merciless attack. Twice, digging deep, she somehow held grimly on.
The wazir laid on the final stroke. Penny would not have believed it possible, but it was harder than all those that had gone before. Her parched throat managed to produce a last, long scream as she writhed under the leather’s savage bite. Panting hard and weeping, she waited for the longed-for order to release the bar.
Replacing the whip in the rack, Sahar spent several minutes walking around Penny admiring the fiery evidence of his handiwork.
Blinking away her tears she watched him warily, suddenly aware of his up-curved flesh as he halted in front of her.
“Let go now, Mem-sahib Winter. It’s time I took you. You do want me to take you, don’t you?”
“Y… yes, Your Excellency,” Penny lied with her gut twisting into knots. What she wanted most was to sink into a cold, soothing bath and beg Ranee to massage salve into her burning hurts. From Sahar Gul’s snicker of laughter as she obeyed his order to lie on her back on the platform and raise her legs, she knew he had guessed she was not telling the truth. Only endure this final assault, she told herself, and she would be free to continue her search for the girls. Just a few more days and her life would be worth living again.
The native took her roughly, remaining on his feet as he used her the way Macdonald had but showing no care or concern for any pleasure but his own. His hard thrusting added to the cruel throb of her buttocks and thighs, and his deliberate grip on her fiercely reddened breast as he lunged into her brought tears back to her eyes. Still, the feeling of being so completely and helplessly controlled caused Penny a tremor of excitement, and Sahar’s plunging thrusts sparked a flicker of arousal.
The colour of his skin was suddenly unimportant as she began to quiver in response to the friction.
He finished too quickly for her to do any more, grinning grotesquely down into Penny’s face as he grunted his satisfaction. Her ordeal did not quite end there, however. Horribly conscious of the two slave girl’s watching her every move, she had to clean him and then stand once more with his seed running down her thighs while he enjoyed the sight of the searing welts he had added to those alrea
dy covering her pale-skinned body. Had it been enough, Penny wondered. She lowered her eyes as his gaze lifted from the angry red of her breasts to her face.
“Most interesting and entertaining, Courtney,” he said. “Definitely an experience I’d like to repeat with another spoiled, proud white woman.
I’m glad you brought me this one. I enjoyed humbling you, Mrs. Winter, but I like your courage, whatever the reason for it. I will speak to the Prince about you. If he agrees to let you go to the slavers, I will not forbid it.”
“The Prince! But I thought -.”
“Be quiet, Penelope,” Courtney interrupted her. “Of course you need the Prince’s permission. You are in his country, after all. Now, bow to His Excellency and thank him for everything he has done for you.”
Careful to hide her bitter disappointment, Penny did as she was told. She had thought Sahar Gul was the last obstacle to achieving her objective. Now he had placed another in her way. The awful throb and blaze of her hurts suddenly seemed too much to bear. Tears filled her eyes once more.
“Give her tomorrow to recover and bring her to tea with His Highness the day after,” the wazir told Courtney.
“Two days!” Penny said, dismayed. “But that’s only a day before the khillat is distributed.” She would have only five days left until the slave auction and she still had to travel into the mountains, obtain the girls’ release and get them to Dhokat. Time was rapidly running out.
“Hush, Penelope.” Courtney tossed her dress carelessly at her.
“Surely you know better by now than to argue. Or shall I schedule another spell in my punishment room for you? Now, you’ve taken up enough of His Excellency’s time. Get dressed and we’ll get back to the Residency.”
He almost dragged her from the room while she was still buttoning her dress. Sahar Gul did not even glance in her direction. The reminder of how he had hurt and humiliated her was still damp on the insides of her smarting thighs. The pressure of the thin dress was increasing the pain in her breasts and the cruel throb in her buttocks. Penny felt soiled and defiled. As she meekly followed Courtney into the street, for the first time since setting out on her journey, she heartily wished she had never left England.
*
“Must I go in the cage again tonight, Mister Ross, Sir?” Kate asked softly as the old soldier unlocked the side of the narrow wood and metal box where she had slept for the last three nights.
“No need to call me that except when I’m punishing you,” he said, opening the steel-framed bars.
Kate gave him the winsome smile she had been practising in the mirror during the times he had left her chained alone with the dildo deep inside her. “I know, but I like to. It’s better than just saying ‘Sir’, and if I called you Master it would remind me of horrid old Mister Jefferson.” It felt more personal too, but Kate could not tell him that.
“He’s younger than I am,” Ross growled, “and don’t be disrespectful or I’ll give you a switching.”
“Yes, Mister Ross, Sir,” Kate replied with her best look of contrition. It turned into one of disappointment when he gestured for her to enter the cage. “Oh, must I? You said I w… was ready.” A shiver ran through her. She sucked in a breath that lifted her pointed teats and gave a sigh that made them shake.
Ross grinned. “Tomorrow will do. Don’t tell me you’re so eager you can’t wait.”
Kate felt a blush heat her cheeks. It was true. In a matter of days she had been transformed from a near-innocent virgin into a wanton who could hardly stop craving sexual pleasure. “I… I hoped tonight in… your bed.” She looked away as embarrassment got the better of her. “I don’t want to be chained the first time.” Her coyness vanished as she squeezed her rear muscle on the ivory cone holding it open and a thrill of pleasure tickled through her at front and rear. For most of the hours of her training she wore her ‘bum-stretcher’. Kate had been amazed and ashamed at how rapidly the sensation of fullness it caused had stopped disgusting her and started arousing her instead. Now she found every tightening of her distended opening on the hard object intensely stimulating. It was almost a disappointment when it was removed. She met Ross’s level gaze.
“Don’t… don’t you want to do it too?”
He gave a throaty laugh. “You’ve almost got me believing you, little miss. But I’m not so easily taken in. Do you think I haven’t seen through your act or guessed what you’re up to?”
“Act?” Perhaps it had been in the beginning, though Kate was not even sure about that.
“Your instant obedience and willingness. No insults, no complaints, and not even any arguments until now. It’s too good to be true, my girl, and it’s not going to work. If you think you’ve found a way to escape through me you’re mistaken. I’m not taking you into the mountains and that’s final.”
“On, no, I didn’t…” Kate protested. “It’s not….” It had been, or so she had thought, but she had had three lonely nights in the cage to ponder about her motives. The odd thing was that the outcome of that had not really been a surprise. She liked the rough and ready ex-soldier.
On the surface he was tough and cynical. Beneath though, she was sure, was a different kind of man and one certainly far cleverer than he pretended to be. After the way he had treated her she had no business admiring him, but there it was. She could not alter her feelings.
Incredible though it seemed even to her, Kate had fallen for him, and she had fallen hard.
He stood up, tall and imposing. “I ought to punish you for trying to deceive me, you little minx.”
“I haven’t deceived you,” she said. “I…” What could she say? By his own admission he had lost count of the girls he had trained. To him, she was just another slave. If she tried to explain he would only laugh at her, and besides, she was far from certain about her feelings when she spent so much time in a state of distracting arousal. All she knew was that there was more to them than simply lust.
Ross sat on the bed and slapped a hand on one thigh. “Over my knee. Let’s get that dildo out, then you can fetch me my switch and have a dozen on your behind for your devious ways.”
Kate gave a little indignant mew. Her bottom had not taken a beating since Jefferson had thrashed it, and Ross had used his little whip sparingly on the rest of her and his blows had been light. Now he meant to punish her for something of which she was not even guilty.
Nevertheless, Kate did not argue. Glancing nervously at the switch that stood against the wall near the bed she draped her body over his lap, resting her hands on the floor at one side and her feet at the other.
The position heightened her awareness of the weight of her breasts and the vulnerability of her bottom, and she could feel Ross’s warmth on her belly. Her pussy gave a quiver and her rear contracted on the conical dildo. He loosened the belt and cords holding it in place and pulled out the hard ivory. Its removal provoked almost as much pleasure as when it was inserted.
Ross’s big, bear-paw of a hand smoothed over Kate’s taut rear-cheeks. Though their bruises had not yet entirely faded, they caused her little discomfort now and his exploration was much more stimulating than painful. She gasped when he prised her buttocks apart and shivered as much in excitement as embarrassment as his fingertip tickled between them. Deliberately, she relaxed and squirmed suddenly as his finger pushed through her lightly-oiled little pucker.
“Hm, you’re still very tight back here,” he said, and made her jerk by sliding his finger to the knuckle. She clamped around it, wriggling as the long digit moved within her, and Kate rubbed her naked belly against Ross’s thighs, gasping and feeling the sway of her hanging breasts.
“Maybe it’s time it took something a bit bigger, little miss minx.”
She could picture his amused smile as he spoke. “Yes, Mister Ross, Sir. Ooh!” His finger waggled and little thrills tingled through her.
His other hand teased her in front, stroking her moistly warm petals.
“Well, I have to admit your
pussy isn’t acting.” His soft laugh started a glow in her heart that nearly equalled that lower down as he added a second finger and stroked her slick, quivering membranes. Kate gave a breathy moan and pushed back. Abruptly his touch vanished.
“That’s enough. You’re over my knee for punishment, not pleasure,” Ross said sternly.
Recalling the sharp, fiery bite of the switch sent a shudder through Kate but her hope of avoiding a night in the cage was not dashed. She could feel the pressure of something long and hard against her left hip.
His hand described little circles over her firm-fleshed buttocks. He laughed.
“I’m not going to switch you,” he announced. “I’ve had another idea.”
Kate felt a tremor of anticipation, abruptly ended by a fierce sting as his broad palm cracked briskly down onto her upturned bottom. She hissed and jerked, felt the weight of his other hand on the small of her back and heard him chuckle.
“You’ll have a good spanking with the flat of my hand, my girl, and then we’ll see if you’re sorry for your play-acting.”
“Oh, I wasn’t acting,” Kate cried. “I’m -. Ow!” More hot, stinging pain cut her off as her bottom bounced under a hard slap.
“Don’t deny it,” he said, giving her a third meaty smack. “You’ve been a bad girl and you know it. Say it.” Another fiery slap was sufficient encouragement.
“I’ve been a bad girl, Mister Ross, Sir,” she cried, wriggling as her firm flesh yielded again under his heavy hand and pain flared across her soft-skinned rear-cheeks.
“Yes, you have,” Ross agreed. “A bad slave girl. Say it.”
“I’m not a -. Ow! Ooh! I’ve been a bad slave girl,” Kate said quickly.
“And what is a slave girl’s first duty?” he demanded with another swipe to her upturned bottom.
“Ooh! Obedience, Mister Ross, Sir.”
“What kind of obedience?”
Another searing impact made her cry out and writhe over his lap.
Kate and Julia: Slave Girls of the Raj Page 7