Kate and Julia: Slave Girls of the Raj (7 page)

“Families can make things difficult at times,” he said with a thin smile and she remembered his own experience. “But arranged marriages are common in India and hardly unheard of in England.”

“But I don’t want to marry for money. It’s obscene and degrading to be traded off so my parents can have things back the way they used to be. I felt as if I was being sold into slavery.” She gulped. That was exactly the fate that awaited her.

Jahngir smiled thinly. “Then it seems you have fared no better by coming here, but also no worse. Tell me, do you always run away from what frightens you? Have you never tried confronting your fears? You ran from your parents just as you have run from me. Yet you could have stood up to them and refused to cooperate in their plan.”

“You don’t know my parents,” Julia said. “My father said he had had me flogged once and he could do it again if I defied him. So I made my arrangements with Mrs. Winter in secret and came here.” She had thought herself very bold at the time but what he had said was true. If she had had the real courage to simply pack her bags and leave instead of sneaking out in the dead of night, she might not be naked in his bath right now.

“I believe I met many people like your parents when I was in your country,” Jahngir said, “and their daughters - determined, ambitious girls very interested in wealth. Have you never had any ambitions?”

“To love and be loved,” Julia answered at once. Not that she ever expected to have it fulfilled when all the men she met only wanted to stare at her breasts. And why was she revealing it to him when she had never told a living soul before? She realized she had never thought about any sort of life but the one she had been brought up to expect – marriage, husband, children. That was what English girls did, after all, although Kate did not seem to believe it. “I always expected to become some man’s wife,” she ended lamely.

“As long as you got to choose him yourself, eh?” Jahngir took her hand and drew her down beside him. “Well, now you must learn to be some man’s concubine, and you need to practice.”

Julia winced. He had not pulled that punch, but her pussy prickled when she looked again at his groin.

“Kiss me first. That is a skill you need also.” His arm snaked out and pulled her close and she trembled as his warm body pressed against hers. Her mouth seemed to find his without her being aware of it. It moved moistly on his lips of its own accord, parted, drew gently upon them and then more eagerly. Hard flesh pressed against her belly. His tongue pushing into her mouth was only a momentary surprise before she responded in kind. She rubbed herself against him, feeling the strength in his hard muscles, his vigour and potency. His hand smoothed down her back and cupped her bottom, leaving her skin tingling where it had touched. Julia sighed against his lips as his hand slid down the cleft in her buttocks and stroked the pout of her intimate opening. Her breasts seemed to swell and felt achingly tender. A wonderful warmth filled her head as well as her pussy.

Her mouth still captured by his, she found herself rolled onto her back on the hard stone steps. The discomfort of his weight coming down on her meant nothing as she quivered excitedly. He was going to put it inside, Julia thought with a great rush of excitement. She was going to feel the power of that marvellous shaft filling her. Arousal made her wriggle wildly. She was ready. There was nothing she wanted more.

Her head spun.

Her mew of disappointment as his lips abandoned hers changed to a groan of pleasure when they traced a tingling trail of delight down her neck and breast to one stiff, pulsing nipple. He drew the hard point into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue and drawing on it until it ached.

Julia ran her hands over his body, revelling in the feel of his warmth and strength. The faint voice of conscience was swamped by her surging excitement as Jahngir’s fingers slowly stroked their way up the insides of her trembling thighs towards the moistly eager core of her femininity.

His mouth found hers again, and this time it seemed natural that his tongue should thrust between her lips at the same moment his fingers pushed between her prickling petals and sent ecstatic shivers coursing within. She clasped him tighter, rubbing herself against his thickened flesh.

“Yes, oh yes,” Julia panted as his lips kissed their way to her breast once more. She was slick with dew and trembling in anticipation and desire. She rocked her hips and drew her legs wider apart. Jahngir’s rigidity slid over the sensitive skin of her thigh and she felt it nudging her quivering nether-lips as his fingers withdrew.

“Master,” Julia moaned breathily and knew she meant it. Her eyes opened and stared up into his. A dark, glittering flame of desire seemed to fill their depths. “Yes, Master,” Julia gasped, lifting, offering herself and feeling his pressure between her thighs increase until she ached with her need.

With a harsh growl, Jahngir Khan pulled himself from her embrace and got to his feet. “Are you trying to bewitch me girl? First you play the timorous virgin and now suddenly you’re a temptress.” He strode to the bench. “You will come here and serve me as I desire. Do you think it is for a slave girl to dictate to her master what is done to her? Here, I say, and on your knees.”

Fearful, confused and more disappointed than she would ever have believed, Julia crawled to him on all fours. Though his cock remained very upright, the smouldering desire she had seen in Jahngir’s eyes had turned to flashing anger and she could not understand why. His mood had changed in a heartbeat. She had been so sure he meant to make love to her as avidly as she had seem him do with the other girls. What had happened to steal her moment away? What had she done to anger him, when all she wanted was to make him pleased with her? Her belly flipped as she realized just how eager she had been, how much she really
had
wanted to please him, but now was not the time to ask herself why.

Jahngir’s anger was warning enough of that. It left her in no doubt that she would be punished if she did not perform well, and this time there would be no last-minute reprieve.

Yet despite her puzzlement and regret, Julia continued to feel the ripples of her arousal and her longing still held her in its grip. With a hand that shook only a little, she obeyed Jahngir’s order to once more pleasure him with her mouth.

*

Courtney moved Penny into the wide shaft of sunlight slanting through the arched windows in the wall of the high-ceilinged room.

“Stay there. You will not move,” he ordered.

The nervous flutter in her stomach increased as he disappeared through the double doors ahead of her. The native guard there closed them behind the Englishman, and with what Penny interpreted as deliberate insolence ran his lascivious eyes over her. She felt very alone and frighteningly vulnerable. Beneath the lightweight, white cotton of her dress she wore nothing, and with the sun shining down on her she knew the dark points on her breasts were visible through the thin material, along with the red weals Courtney had carved across her skin.

The other guard behind her would be looking at the streaked purple bruising on her caned buttocks, she was sure. Doubtless it was what Courtney intended.

Penny longed for a cigarette, but he had denied her her handbag as well as her underwear for the five-minute walk up the town’s steep main street from the British Residency to the palace of the Prince of Jargahal.

She had no idea why she was there. Courtney had told her if she wanted to see the girls again she would do as she was told. The threat had been enough to make her acquiesce, just as it had been when he had used it to bring her to his bed on both of the previous nights. And what nights they had been! Never before had Penny experienced so extraordinary a mixture of pain and pleasure, of maddening frustration, outright humiliation and fierce, relentless arousal as she had in the forty eight hours that had passed since the first cruel kiss of Courtney’s cane had lashed across her backside.

The man she had once thought of only as an ageing eccentric had warned her he would be demanding, but Penny had not been prepared for the trials he had put her through on her first night. From the moment he had made her clamber onto his wide bed and place a slim, steel collar fixed by a chain to the wall around her own slender neck she had known she was completely at his mercy. And he had shown her none. Nothing she had done, from posing to display her breasts and buttocks and even greater intimacies to him, to the way she had followed his orders to give him pleasure, had been good enough.

Courtney’s response had been to flog her with a thin, plaited-leather whip and make her repeat every action until she satisfied him.

Every bee-sting bite of the lash had added to the pain and throbbing the whippings and canings he had given Penny that same afternoon were already causing. It should have been unmitigated torment. Yet, he had shown he was skilled at more than just plying the whip. In between the floggings and the demeaning demands, the touch of his long-fingered hands had fired her passions and brought Penny to the boil again and again. For all her shame and smarting hurts, her body had wriggled and her head had whirled with the flaring intensity of her desire. She had felt such pleasure before, but never repeated over and over again with barely a pause.

Only when the first paleness of pre-dawn had tinted the sky beyond the open-shuttered windows had Courtney finally taken her. The memory of the mind-swirling climax she had experienced beneath him was enough to bring a prickle of excitement to her belly and a blush to her cheeks. As she had slumped, exhausted, onto the bed and drifted towards welcome oblivion she had had to acknowledge the man was a master of his art.

Nor had her degradation ended there. At Courtney’s insistence and under his supervision, the moment Penny had awoken in the early evening of the next day, Ranee and another Indian slave girl had bathed the stiffness from her body in a deep, square bath big enough to hold all three of them. Already embarrassed by them touching her most intimate places, the Englishwoman had then been forced to submit to the two girls massaging a salve into her welts and throbbing bruises. Only grudgingly had she admitted it helped relieve the awful pain.

It had been hard to face Ranee with even a vestige of dignity after the way Penny had whimpered and wriggled under her lapping tongue and probing fingers while she has been chained in Courtney’s punishment room. Never before had she submitted to the unnatural attentions of one of her own sex. That she had surrendered to her passion the instant she had felt the girl’s touch made the incident doubly humiliating to recall.

Yet now it seemed insignificant compared to what she had suffered on her second night in Courtney’s hands.

He had hardly touched her himself except to bind her on her knees to the foot of his bed. Despite her unwillingness, it had been his slave girls who had aroused her, much to Penny’s shame. They had taken turns. While Courtney used one, the other had explored Penny’s bound nakedness with hands and lips and tongue, pinching, teasing, nibbling and licking at every inch of her and continually driving her to the verge of fulfilment. Each time, a hairsbreadth away, she had heard Courtney’s curt order to stop and the maddening teasing had vanished and left Penny groaning in an agony of frustration.

It had gone on for hours, made worse by the sights and sounds of the man using his slaves, filling them in every way imaginable, much to Penny’s shock and embarrassment. To hear the girls’ pleasured moans and cries as they climaxed and to smell their ripe woman-scent mingling with her own had almost had her screaming from the urgency of her need.

Finally, as Penny was sure her tormentor had intended, she had lost all self-control and begged to be allowed her own release. The price had been high, and not only for her. First, Courtney had caned both of his slave girls across the buttocks while they crouched on all fours on the bed. To Penny’s discomfiture they had taken their punishment with much more fortitude and far fewer cries than she had managed. She knew that was one reason they had been beaten in her presence. The other had clearly been to stimulate Courtney before he made her serve him.

“You’ll pleasure me exactly as I tell you if you want to come,” he had told her. Penny had not hesitated. The knowledge that the two native girls were watching had meant nothing compared to the raging demands of her passion. Penny had knelt before him and licked and lapped and nibbled and finally accepted his bitter seed, though she had struggled to keep it down when it reached her stomach. Only then had he freed her right hand. Desperately, Penny had dived her half-numb fingers between her madly twitching thighs, and seconds later her lower belly had roiled ecstatically with a profound and protracted climax. Wincing though she had been at the bright-eyed stares of Courtney and the girls watching every writhe and wriggle, she could not remember when anything had ever felt so wonderful.

Recalling it was enough to send a tremor through her just as the door opened. Courtney raised a beckoning finger. Cursing her thoughtlessness at taking a deep breath that strained the thin material of her dress against her breasts and increased the guard’s leer, Penny stepped forward.

With her stomach performing somersaults, she heard the door close behind her and barely noticed her luxurious surroundings as all of her attention was seized by a man sitting in the big, leather armchair on the opposite side of the room. Or rather, not all of it, for it was not the sight of the man that made her catch her breath and her eyes go wide. It was the nearly naked Indian girl kneeling on the floor at his right, and more especially the equally scantily clad white girl at his left.

“Your Excellency, this is Mrs. Penelope Winter.” Courtney’s hand in the small of her back propelled Penny towards the seated man.

“Penelope, I present His Excellency Sahar Gul, Wazir of His Highness the Prince of Jargahal.”

They could only be slave girls. The thought repeated continually in her head as she struggled to focus on the wazir.