Kate and Julia: Slave Girls of the Raj (14 page)

Whatever humiliation awaited her, and she was now sure that she was going to be humiliated, there were going to be plenty of witnesses. The Prince opened the door and paused.

“There is one thing before we continue. No
mem-sahib
has ever seen my dairy before. Usually it is a place for my slave girls and their master, and as such no female is permitted inside unless she is naked. So if you wish to enter, you must -.”

“I understand, Highness,” Penny interrupted, already reaching for the fastenings of her skirt. He knew as well as she did that she had no wish to see inside but too much was at stake for her to refuse, so let them just get on and get it over with.

“Then please remove your blouse first.”

With a disconcerting wriggle inside her, Penny obeyed the polite request she knew was really an order, and watched his bright, piggy-eyed gaze drink in the sight of her out-thrust breasts. Her skirt fell around her feet and he looked down at her nakedness. Even his tongue looked fat as he ran it over his fleshy lips and returned his attention to her breasts.

“Excellent. Superb.” He lifted them on his pudgy palms, feeling their weight then squeezing them firmly before letting them bounce back into place. “And as white as lilies too, Courtney.” He thumbed Penny’s left teat where one of the welts the Englishman or Sahar Gul had inflicted still marred her skin. “A shame you had to flog them.”

“She needed a lesson in humility, Highness,” Courtney replied, “or she would not be so amenable today. And I laid most of the strokes on her backside, as you can see.”

Raham Dil’s hands turned her so he could see her ravaged rear-cheeks. She had looked at them in the mirror, a mass of purple bruising overlaid with vivid, dark-red streaks that even numerous cold dressings and applications of Ranee’s salve had not yet persuaded to fade. The Prince turned her back without touching them, and his finger under her chin lifted her eyes to his.

“Are you humble now, Mrs. Winter?”

There were a lot of replies she could give him that he would not like. Penny settled for one that he would. “Yes, Highness.”

“Then there will be no need for me to flog you today,” he said. “I seldom beat a girl’s breasts. They have more interesting uses.” He pinched her nipples and she was surprised to find they were erect. “And it would be a pity to disfigure, even temporarily, two beauties like these.”

His eyes glittered, diamond hard. “But I do make exceptions.”

“I understand, Highness,” Penny said with a gulp.

“Come then.”

Not much reassured by what he had said, she followed him into the room. Immediately, her attention focused on the four pieces of strange apparatus that occupied much of the floor space. They were too similar to the ones Penny had seen in Courtney’s punishment room for her not to feel fear shrink her belly and clench her buttocks tight as she recalled how terribly vulnerable she had felt when bound and helpless. Standing at either side of a door in the far wall were two upright frames of wood and metal, festooned with leather straps she had no doubt were intended for the restraint of defenceless slave girls. Nearest to her were two tables with iron uprights attached that reminded her of the whipping the wazir had given her two days earlier. A longer table against one wall held a line of squat glass jars, and next to it was a refrigerator which, near bankrupt though she was, Penny would have bet money had been supplied by Macdonald.

“How do you like my milking parlour then, Mrs. Winter?” The Prince’s face was alight with anticipation.

“Er… very impressive, Your Highness. Most, um… efficient, I’m sure.” Clearly he was proud of his strange fetish rather than embarrassed by it. Penny hoped it might be to her advantage if she played along.

“It’s all my own design,” he told her. “Sometimes I let the girls milk themselves or each other without strapping them down, just for the pleasure of watching them, but it’s more satisfying if they’re bound. It’s easier to control the flow too, and less wasteful. Here, I’ll show you.”

“That’s most kind, Highness,” Penny said with a smile.

He motioned the pregnant girl to one of the tables. Her face was impassive as she clambered onto it, but the look in her eyes when they caught Penny’s made the Englishwoman turn away. She was probably English too, Penny thought with a pang of something close to guilt; someone’s daughter, maybe even someone’s wife before she was snatched away and sold into slavery. Not that she could do anything about it, she told herself, standing there as naked and defenceless as the girl.

The white slave knelt on the leather-padded tabletop, resting her knees just short of one end, and leaned forward to feed her big, milk-filled breasts through two looped leather straps riveted to the edge of a wooden crossbar held by iron uprights at either side of the table. As her hands met the tabletop, her shoulders and chest above her dangling teats rested on the crossbar and the Prince and the Indian milkmaid fastened leather cuffs attached to the table around her wrists. Similar cuffs fitted just above her knees secured her legs and another wooden bar, which Raham locked in place between two more uprights, pressed down into the small of her back and emphasised the bulge of her hanging, distended belly.

Penny’s feigned expression of intense interest deserted her as he produced a large, heavily-ridged ivory dildo, spread the pregnant girl’s thighs with one hand and pushed it deep between them with the other.

The girl gasped and wriggled, the first signs of any emotion she had shown, and the Prince gave Penny a broad grin as he fastened a third bar level with the phallus to hold it inside her.

“I like them to feel pleasure during their milkings. It helps the flow.”

The Indian milkmaid had already removed the lids from two glass jars and placed them in cut-outs in the tabletop beneath the girl’s pendent teats. Raham gripped the leather loop encircling the right breast, and Penny saw it was a thin belt that he pulled very tight and buckled around the flesh, compressing it into a narrow neck with the heavy teat swelling out below it. The girl gave a faint moan and her milk at once began trickling from her right nipple into the jar beneath. The Prince treated her left breast in identical fashion, and soon its milk was doing the same.

“Have a good look, Mrs. Winter,” he said. “You can see she’s flowing nicely. That will continue for several minutes with her tits as full as they are, or we can help it along.” He reached out and squeezed the white girl’s right breast in the way he had earlier. There was a soft hiss as the fluid squirted more quickly into the jar and little bubbles formed on its swirling surface.

“Yes, I see. How fascinating,” Penny lied and racked her brain for a question to reinforce the impression she was interested. “You said you always have it fresh, Your Highness, yet you have a refrigerator. What is its purpose?” She heard Courtney’s smothered laugh and cringed inwardly.

“It’s where we keep the supply for the milkmaids,” he said, oblivious to her subterfuge and the Englishman’s amusement, “and the whipped cream, of course.”

“Oh, of course, the whipped cream,” Penny said, incredulous.

Surely he was not fully sane. For a moment, she could only watch the gentle sway of the milkmaid’s large breasts that was making the streams of liquid from her long nipples describe little circles on the surface of the milk in the jars. She noticed the pregnant girl’s breathing had quickened and the reason for her breasts’ swaying was the almost imperceptible wriggling of her hips as she repeatedly tightened herself on the dildo.

She would do the same in that position, Penny decided, and was astonished that such a thought had entered her head.

“I expect you’d like to try milking her yourself,” Raham Dil said.

“Oh! I… er… yes, I would.” She could not stop the heat rising in her cheeks as she reluctantly gave the girl’s right breast a tentative squeeze.

“More firmly,” the Prince said. His damp, sweaty hand closed over Penny’s, pressing it harder into the milk-laden teat until the flow quickened and sprayed with a gurgling sound into the container. She released her grip the instant he did, and stepped back, forcing a smile to her stiff lips.

“Most informative, Your Highness. Very intriguing,” Penny said, avoiding looking at Courtney. She caught her breath as Raham’s clammy paws closed over her own jutting globes.

“You’ve never known the feeling yourself, have you? Never felt your tits swell with milk until their skin was so tight you thought they would burst and it sprays out at the slightest pressure.” His tongue flickered wetly over his lips. “You’ve never felt it flowing from the suction of a mouth clamped over those delicious, fat udders and suckling them really hard.” Almost reverently, it seemed to Penny, he rubbed the pebble-hard points at the tapering tips of her swelling breasts, and then suddenly lowered his head and sucked painfully hard on one of them.

She gave a startled yelp and for a second tried to pull away before she remembered why she was there. For more than a minute he slobbered on one nipple and then the other before letting her go.

“It’s time you climbed on the other table, Mrs. Winter,” he announced.

“But, Your Highness, as you know, I have no… no milk.”

“Most regrettably, but the table has other uses, so do as you are told.”

There was no mistaking his tone – commanding, authoritative, used to demanding instant obedience and expecting nothing less. Penny gave it. Though her gut was churning, she shivered with a little ripple of excitement as she mounted the table and nervously let him manhandle her breasts into the leather loops. The Prince and the Indian girl, her milk still dripping steadily from her big nipples, fastened the straps around Penny’s wrists, pulling her upper chest hard into the padded crossbar.

She almost lost her battle with panic as she felt herself once more bound in dreadful helplessness. She was completely at Raham Dil’s mercy.

“Oh, that’s extremely tight, Highness!” she said, voice quavering as she fought her fear.

The Prince did not reply, but continued securing her in the same fashion he had his pregnant milkmaid, except that he did not add a bar behind her but placed it under her belly to hold her up on all fours. Penny discovered the position was as uncomfortable as it looked. It was even more so when he pulled the belts tight around her dangling breasts.

“Ooh! That’s quite painful, Highness,” she whined, though she knew he did not care.

“Would you like to finish the milking, Courtney, while I deal with Mrs. Winter?” he asked, as if she had not spoken.

“Very much, Highness.”

Penny raised her head and watched Courtney grasp the white girl’s breasts and begin tugging and squeezing alternately on them. They had become a mottled, bluish colour, and her belly flipped as she realized her own painfully nipped globes would soon look the same. With mounting anxiety she prayed that whatever was going to happen would be over quickly. A moment later, the Prince’s hands closed around her teats just behind her nipples and began pulling and squeezing as though she too was being milked. To her surprise, it was not an unpleasant sensation.

He carried on for several minutes with the silence broken only by the sound of Penny’s gasps and the regular squirt-squirt of the pregnant girl’s milk into the glass jars.

He was fat and gross and disgusting, Penny told herself. Yet still his touch was stimulating her stiffly erect nipples, despite the discomfort of the tight straps biting into her breasts. Her sex even tried to give a little tickle, but it was quashed by the apprehensive flutters in her stomach at the thought that the Prince would not be satisfied with toying with her teats. She was proved right as he released them and positioned himself behind her.

“Let’s see what you’re like back here.”

Penny gave a startled jerk as his fat fingers spread her nether-lips and pushed inside. This time, the tickle there overcame her fears sufficiently to run the full length of her sheath. It ended abruptly with her cry of pain as Raham grasped the cheeks of her bruised, tender bottom and pulled them apart. He held them like that while Penny’s muscles automatically contracted, and she whimpered and tried to squirm, and discovered just how restrictive her bondage was. She groaned her relief as his grip vanished and he moved to her head. He gestured at the white slave girl.

“Loosen her straps when her flow slackens, Courtney. You’ll find she’ll give a little more after that. Oh, and feel free to use her mouth when she’s finished.”

“I will, Highness. Thank you,” the Englishman replied. “I hope Mrs. Winter is proving satisfactory.”

“Splendid so far. I have a feeling she may well exceed my expectations.”

“I expect you found her quite stimulated. Despite her lack of formal training she’s very responsive.”

“Well, let’s find out, shall we?” the Prince said, unbuttoning his
chapaan
as he spoke. The petite slave girl had to help him get it off his obese body along with the white silk shirt he wore beneath. She knelt to remove his trousers.

He was even more disgusting naked. He did look as though he had breasts, and they hung slackly onto a stomach that began half way up his chest and bulged out further than that of his pregnant slave. Below it, his waist sagged grotesquely, its weight of fat pressing on his erection, making it stick out horizontally instead of stand upright. To Penny’s surprise, for she had always imagined fat men were small, his shaft was long and almost as thick as Courtney’s. The thought of feeling it penetrate her while that mountain of sweaty, blubbery flesh pressed against her body made her feel nauseous. There was nothing she could do to stop it. The Prince was controlling her just as Macdonald and Courtney and Sahar Gul had controlled her, and as with them, for the sake of recovering Julia and Kate she would accept it. Penny knew she was prostituting herself. She could only hope and believe it would be worth it in the end.

Raham’s fat belly wobbled bizarrely as he stepped towards her and his pale-brown length was aimed at her lips and only an inch away. He gave no order. There was no need. Penny could just see his chubby face above her and recognise its harsh, uncompromising expression. Fatter and grosser than the others he may be, but underneath he was the same kind of man with the same kind of power. And just as she had been to the others, she was the same kind of helpless victim. Disgusted though she felt, Penny parted her lips and began to serve him. He was damp and greasy. Somehow she quelled the urge to vomit and tried to forget the presence of the slave girls standing at either side of the Prince. He motioned to the petite slave.