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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Passions Playpen part 14 of 14 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
PASSION’S PLAYPEN
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Fourteen
Kate wore her bra self-consciously. She lay by the pool,
sunning herself. A servant brought her raspberry crumb cakes. He
offered her wine. She declined. He insisted. She accepted a chilled
glass with her sun warmed hands and shivered as she sipped it.
She was back at the Sultan’s. The man who served her was
handsomely built. He wore a white robe. When he rose from bending over
her, however, and his robe fell open, and she could see between his
powerful thighs, he was curiously lacking in substance at the juncture
between them.
He was castrated, completely, and she did not know why. How
could such a man have come to such a state? Why did he persist in
living? Arabia was strange, especially in the backward regions, where
tradition still held sway, and was amplified, even, by men like the
Sultan who claimed to be supporting traditional values while, in fact,
to Kate’s mind, merely exploited the ignorance of the surrounding
tribes.
Kate gazed up at the clear blue sky. No clouds could be seen.
Just the blazing sun, baking the sand with mid-day heat. Here, out in
the desert waste where no city could survive, even with imported water,
for far too much would be needed, nomadic tribesmen still roamed along
paths charted centuries ago by their forefathers. They herded sheep and
goats. That was their livelihood even in the waning days of the 20th
century. And the Sultan, heir to the only oasis for miles around, ruled
over them with an iron fist, submitting himself only to King Fahd
himself, who lived far away.
The palm fronds of an overhanging tree caressed Kate’s body
with shadows. She kept her face under the shelter of the tree while
letting her white body stretch out into the blaze of sunlight. She was
fresh from bed, and she knew she could only stay a little while. The
Sultan disapproved of deep tans.
Kate adjusted her bikini halter. It was soft, made of the very
thinnest cotton. She rolled over to feel the weight of her breasts
beneath her. The little bra seemed reluctant to do anything but cup
them with the lightest, feather-like pressure, as if a firmer hold might
hurt them. She wriggled her back and felt her bosoms jostle pleasantly
beneath her. They were hers! Like Daisy, who lay sleepily beside her,
she had grown them in the last few years. Yet this morning, as the sun
climbed high, she must have them pierced. The thought made her spine
shiver with fear. She wished for a bra that would cup and hold her
breasts firmly, protecting them. But as the thought of her nipples
being pierced took hold in her mind, her nipples themselves rose
unhindered. They poked up into the fabric of her nothing bra and made
little points beneath her. They were oblivious. They did not know
their fate.
Faisal had not returned to the Sultan with just herself. He
had earned a profit for the Sultan, beyond all expectation. It was,
Kate had learned, not the first time Faisal had been so successful. Nor
would it be the last.
He’d brought Daisy back with him. She shuddered a little as
she drifted between sleep and wakefulness. Her Aunt, Ivy, had been
convinced to permit the girl the come. Faisal had said she needed a
more complete sexual education, if she were to cease being the ‘bosomy
brat’ her aunt had seen her grow into. Faisal promised Ivy he’d return
Daisy to her as a properly disciplined young woman.
Daisy, poor girl, had not caught the full import of the
conversation. To her, being taken to a big castle, where she would be
kept as a princess, was a grand adventure. She did not understand the
vileness of men and their wicked thoughts.
Her uncle wanted her pierced and branded. Her nipples were to
bear rings, her bottom his initials. Little Daisy sighed and, her eyes
still closed, fussed with the strings of her bra. She didn’t like the
rule that she must wear a swimsuit at the pool. She wanted to swim
naked, and sun naked, and run about all the time without any clothes
on. She saw the Sultan’s castle as a giant playground. She loved
seeing the big guards and considered not the absence of equipment
between their legs. She was too overwhelmed by their massive arms and
chests to notice what they lacked, what the Sultan himself had cut off.
The servant moved to Daisy but, seeing she was still asleep, he
quietly laid several cakes on a plate on the deck beside her. He poured
a glass of wine for her and set it down beside the plate.
“See that she drinks the wine. It will calm her for the
procedure,” the servant who was their guard said to Kate. She did not
turn her head to look at or acknowledge him. She waited. He waited.
He had the right to punish her if she didn’t do as he commanded. She
felt her bottom bulbing up at him, caressingly covered by her too-small
bikini panties. He raised his hand but, at the last moment, laid his
palm gently upon her ass instead of hitting her.
“You will be sore this evening,” he said in a deep, gutteral
Arab accent.
“Not from you,” Kate countered, still not looking back over her
shoulder at him. She wiggled her bottom under his palm to taunt him.
“Lie still,” he said. He drew her panties down off her ass
slowly. Worshipfully, Kate thought, though she feared he still might
spank her. Gently he eased her thighs apart and drew the panties down
more, waiting for the snap that would announce they’d been pulled free
of her cunt.
Snap. Kate felt air invade her cunny as the protective strip
of her panties was pulled out of them. The servant let go of her
panties. They lay stretched across her open thighs. The gusset that
should have cupped and held her cunny, or at least been wedged
protectively within it, hung shivering between her open legs. Her
thighs were soft but firm. She turned them slightly, feeling their
length. She liked her legs. The servant studied her bottom intently,
looking for scars, but there were none. The servant placed two fingers
upon her seat and pried apart her cheeks. He examined her tiny puckered
anus. He bent down and blew lightly upon it.
“Within, next to your anus, on either side, that is where I’ll
place the brands,” he told her.
“I hate you,” she said to him. She lay on her chaise lounge
with her arms beneath her, propping her up, so she could feel the weight
of her breasts beneath her. But her head was bent down. Her long mane
of hair cascaded down over her face. She felt like an ostrich,
foolishly thinking itself safe with its head concealed while its bottom
rose up vulnerably behind it.
“Another is coming, but he may not arrive,” the servant told
her. “If he does not come I will pierce your nipples for you.”
“No,” Kate said. She liked the word. She repeated it.
“That word only gets you spankings here...” the servant mused.
“But I will spare you today for the sake of your nipples.”
“You do not own me. The Sultan owns me,” Kate reminded him.
“I obey his dicatates completely,” the low growling voice of
the man bending over replied. “I have the evidence to prove that.”
Kate twisted a little on the chaise lounge, felt the absence of anything
between her thighs. She wondered what it would be like to be a man, to
have something there, and then to lose it. “In obeying him, in carrying
out his orders, I may punish you as needed to make you obey, just as I
obey,” the servant reminded her.
“Still I won’t do as you say,” Kate said to him. She wished he
would go away. Gently, fearing he’d get in trouble if her ass were
permitted to be tanned by the sun, he pulled her panties back up. He
straightend them carefully across the bulging hump of her bottom. He
watched as her cheeks tensed and then released as she shivered at the
thought of what she must endure.
“Another few minutes, then I must call you inside,” he said to
her.
“Go away,” Kate replied obstinately.
“As you wish. I merely serve,” the man replied. He withdrew,
leaving her hopeless and afraid on the chaise lounge, under the sun.
She felt a light breeze caress her back and wished she’d not sent him
away. At least he kept her distracted from what must happen. His hands
baring and then recovering her bottom kept her mind occupied, focused on
her nudity and her long slender well-turned out legs, and her clit
buzzing absently with morning wakefulness between them.
“Oh, God!” Kate sighed. She felt and urge to have something
between her legs. She threw herself on her back and felt the sun on her
tummy and the softness of the slim band of cotton that traversed her
hips. She traced a finger across the front of her panties. She
followed the contours of the little tautly stretched cotton undies. She
felt the soft feminine bulging of her bush and, daring at last to slip
lower, she parted her legs and gently traced the outlines of her
cuntlips. They pressed into the gusset of her panties. She lay under
the sun, her face shaded, the rest of her body completely at its mercy.
And as she lay beneath the sun she rubbed with a light absent touch back
and forth across her cuntlips.
She heard a clicking of heels somewhere behind her. She wanted
to take her finger away from herself but as soon as she heard the heels
she felt a sudden small wetness in the gusset of her panties.
“What are you doing?” a female voice asked sharply. Kate kept
caressing the forbidden spot, too scared and yet too pleased to do
otherwise. A woman’s wrist came flashing down and grabbed Kate’s errant
hand. She clutched Kate’s wrist with encircling long-nailed fingers.
Kate felt a powerful grip, yet the woman held her daintily, her pinkie
lifted, as if the remaining fingers were all that were needed to get
hold of a small young girl like Kate.
The woman lifted Kate’s hand to her breast. She settled it
atop Kate’s right bosom where, like the left, her nipple perked up
happily, a newly-grown thorn, fresh as the hour of the day, jutting up
its tiny self into her cotton bra.
“Rub your nipples,” the woman said. “They are to be pierced.
You must prepare them.”
Kate shivered and lifted her other hand from where it lay
beside her. She touched her nipples, but with the flimsy bra cups
between them and her fingers. As the woman watched, this new unknown
woman whose voice she did not recognize, Kate massaged her pointed risen
nipples through the fabric of her bra.
“Yes, good.” the woman said. She came out from behind Kate and
touched Kate’s belly. Kate understood that she was not to take her
hands from her breasts. She kept rubbing her teats as the woman pressed
a palm against her tummy.
“You are not pregnant?” the woman asked. She pressed hard.
“No,” Kate answered.
“How long have you been here?” the woman asked.
“Two weeks,” Kate said, sighing, as the woman kept her belly
depressed with her inward-pushing, uncomfortable palm. The sun played
off the woman’s fingernails. They were painted bright red.
“Two weeks? And you are not pregnant yet?” the woman said
incredulously, as if she were insulted. She lifted her hand from Kate’s
belly. Kate felt her ability to draw a breath restored. She placed
spanning fingers upon either side of Kate’s hips, as if measuring them.
“You are fit for giving birth, quite fit, you should have been
impregnated by now,” the woman said.
“The Sultan...” Kate began.
“I am his wife,” the woman said. She seemed to dismiss the
master of this desert realm with a single phrase.
“You You look American,” Kate stammered. The woman sounded
American too. Kate detected a New York accent.
“Yes, we have been married for a year,” the woman answered. “I
was in the Phillippines shopping but now I’m back. We must have many
children, he and I. But I am too busy to bear young for him. You will
do quite nicely. And who is the girl beside you?”
“That’s... that’s Daisy,” Kate said, as, gazing down at
herself, she watched the American woman pull down her panties. She felt
the breeze waft across her bush. The woman, leaving her panties hanging
between her legs, just as the servant had, urged Kate’s thighs apart.
“The panties will tear if I,” Kate began, but the woman forced
Kate’s thighs farther apart, stretching the slim rolled down panties
almost to the breaking point. They were exotic panties, not capable of
handling the stresses of ordinary panties. They were made by nomad
women for the Sultan’s slaves.
The American woman, a blonde, with a prominent bust that was
barely restrained by a black vest she wore, peered into Kate’s private.
She opened it with her fingers. Kate felt her private secret snugness
give way a little as the woman pried into her.
“You have a fine young cunt,” the woman told her. She brushed
back her hair that had fallen in front of her inquisitive face. “It is
tight but serviceable. The baby will come out just fine if you are
well-fucked between now and then. I will see that you are fucked
routinely. We have horses and such, with dildos sticking up from the
saddle, that you can ride. They will help open you up. I cannot allow
men to fuck you. But the horse-rides will stretch you sufficiently.”
As she spoke Althea and Susie and Debbi wandered out to the
pool. For fear of the Sultan’s wife they pretended not to notice Kate.
They passed across Kate’s line of vision. All three had rings in their
breasts, big gold nipple rings that bounced as they walked, topless, to
the edge of the pool. They looked owned. Althea and Susie wore small
cotton panties like Kate but Debbi had no panties on at all. They sat
down at the edge of the pool, laughing at some word spoken between them,
and dipped their legs into the water. Debbi stole a glance at Kate but
quickly looked away again.
The woman pulled Kate’s panties back up. She did not bother to
cover Kate completely, merely yanking up the panties perfunctorily, as
if she were put out to do even that. Kate was left with panties half
covering her pussy, and bunched beneath her bottom. In back they
covered her just a little, as well as in front. She was going to reach
down to straighten her panties herself but the woman caught her wrists.
Holding them, she drew from a purse slung over her shoulder a pair of
sturdy leather handcuffs. They were fur-lined but looked forboding
nonetheless, with big metal rings hanging off them. She bound Kate’s
hands into the cuffs. Then, placing Kate’s hands on her cotton-haltered
bosom, she drew a leather collar from her purse. She buckled this
around Kate’s throat. Then, working quickly the entire time, as if
skilled in such matters, even over-skilled, to the point of boredom, she
lifted Kate’s wrists to her throat and buckled them to her collar.
“Get up,” the woman said to Kate. Kate struggled to rise. The
woman pulled her up by her hair. Kate kicked her feet as the woman
brought her up to a sitting position. Kate swiveled round on her
bottom, led by the woman, so that her feet dropped off the chaise lounge
to the deck of the pool.
The woman picked up one of Kate’s feet. Her feet were both
bare and she wiggled her toes as the woman drew a foot cuff from her
purse. She bound this around Kate’s ankle. Then, as Kate watched with
growing trepidation, wearing only her tiny nothing bikini that was
bunched uselessly under her bottom, the woman cuffed Kate’s other foot.
Big decorative locks were used to secure the cuffs to her, drawn from
the woman’s purse. The servant who had disappeared now reappeared. He
bore shoes for both girls. He slipped Kate’s on. Kate looked at her
feet and then looked at him. He grinned. It was an evil grin, as if to
repay her for her dismissal of him minutes earlier. He said nothing,
just grinning, checking the shoes to make sure they fit her. The heels
had long five inch spikes on them. She wanted to stab at him with the
spikes but she didn’t dare. He would have only laughed, anyway.
Daisy was awoken and her cunt was examined. The woman cuffed
her the same way as Kate and the servant put shoes on her.
“Who are you?” Daisy asked, when her sleepy form had been so
wickedly prepared.
“I’m Elsinore,” the American woman, wife of the Sultan,
answered. “You are to do as I say.”
“Yess,” Daisy answered. She had not worn cuffs before and she
stared at them like novelties. She did not seemed concerned by her
captivity. It excited her. It made her nipples stand up within her
bra.
“Up, girls!” Elsinore commanded. Kate rose, self-consciously,
feeling her bared bottom behind her wiggle as she gained her feet.
Daisy got up quickly, like a puppy hoping to play. Both girls stood
with their fists cuffed underneath their chin, looking at Elsinore.
“Into the house,” Elsinore said to them. Daintily, conscious that she
would reprove them for gracelessness, a point she made none to subtly by
drawing a short riding crop from her purse, the girls faced toward the
castle and began to walk. Their bottoms wobbled unconcealed by
panties. Elsinore whisked her crop across them, not touching them but
urging them forward. Daisy looked at Kate but Kate did not look at her
for she disliked the girl’s eagerness to comply. She was a small young
foolish girl and thought it all a game, and liked being the center of
attention. Kate wondered if she knew even now that the male guard had
no penis.
Within the shadowed hall of the castle they went. It was
chilly inside, after the desert heat out by the pool. The girls walked
more briskly. Kate felt her bosoms under her drawn-up arms and was glad
of their concealment. Her arms squished against them, pressing into her
febrile nipples, pushing them down. Her bosoms jiggled like trapped
jello under her arms but she liked the feeling. It made her able to
pretend that they wouldn’t be pierced.
“Into here, this will do,” Elsinore said. She led both girls
into a small room fitted for sex. Daisy, fresh from the orgy where
she’d been introduced to adult sex, surveyed the room like a graduate of
some kind, as if she’d earned the right to be here. There were several
tables and each bore a collection of condoms and oils and lotions atop
it. One held dildoes, in a straight line, each larger than the one
beside it, like missiles waiting to be launched. In the middle of the
room were chains. Two of them dangled down, waiting.
With the male servant guarding the door, Elsinore undressed as
Kate and Daisy stood waiting. They huddled together like ducklings
afraid of a rainstorm. Kate stared at the dangling twin chains with
trepidation. Daisy seemed smug, as if pleased with herself for being
here.
Elsinore stripped off her vest, a pretty yellow garment that
matched her hair, and a short green dress. Underneath Kate saw she wore
a no-nonsense black leather bra and panties. When Elsinore turned Kate
saw the panties were thong panties. She guessed the panties had no
gusset, merely a slim G-string between Elsinore’s legs, perhaps with
soft ribbing to stimulate her as she worked. In front the panties
spread out and covered her bush, like Kate’s panties did, or would have,
had they not been untidily pulled down to the tops of her thighs.
Despite being the Sultan’s wife, Elsinore wore a slim black
collar around her neck. Kate wondered if she possessed the key to
unlock it. In contrast to her revealing bikini, she wore long black
boots that rose almost to the tops of her thighs. Kate had been so
mesmerized by the woman, by her own fate and the fate of her breasts,
that she had hardly noticed the woman’s boots until now, when she pulled
her skirt off. They rose like black columns, enveloping her legs while
the legs of Kate and Daisy were vulnerably bare.
“Can I swing on the chain?” Daisy asked innocently, looking at
it.
“Yes, I’ll help you,” Elsinore said with feigned indulgence.
She drew Daisy underneath the nearest chain and unhooked Daisy’s wrists
from under her chin. As Daisy watched, wide-eyed, Elsinore lifted
Daisy’s locked-together hands up to the single chain hanging above her.
Daisy, despite the disorder of her panties that showed her bush in front
and her bottom in back, seemed delighted by the prospect of being hung
from the chain. She watched as Elsinore expertly lifted her wrists,
both of them quite securely together, and then joined them to the
hanging chain.
“Ooooh, this is fun!” Daisy remarked.
“I’m going to remove your bra,” Elsinore told her. She walked
behind Daisy and, taking the bow of the bra carefully in her fingers,
she untied it. Daisy looked down at her breasts as the sting in back
came loose and her bra cups fell off. Her breasts spilled forth. Their
nipples were rock hard. Daisy wiggled a little, hanging from the chain,
trying to spin herself on it.
“I’m afraid you mustn’t move, dear. Only I may move you,”
Elsinore told her. She stilled Daisy’s movements with a hand on her
hip.
For the first time Daisy realized she might be in a
predicament. She shivered under the chain and then, in a high-pitched
and plaintive voice, declared. “Oh, I must pee. May I please be let
down now?”
Kate cringed. The poor girl was such a simpleton. But she
knew it was the girl’s age, just 15, never fucked except at the orgy and
by some neighborhood boy.
“You should have thought of that before I strung you up,”
Elsinore laughed. She had a husky laugh. She walked in front of Daisy
and pulled opn the front of Daisy’s bunched panties to see the lips of
her pussy. “Are you going to wet your panties, hmmmm?” she asked Daisy
in a jovial voice. The girl looked distressed but Elsinore only enjoyed
this. She extended a finger and felt within Daisy’s nether lips.
“Ohhh, naughty girl! You are wet in your puss. You will put a wet spot
in your panties if you permit yourself to be excited. Does it excite
you to be strung up like this? It’s only for the sake of punishment.”
“Punishment?!” Daisy asked. Her eyes popped wide. “What did I
DO?”
“Why nothing, darling. But I must establish your place here.
I am the wife of the Sultan and you, my dear, are his little visitor.
Do you know what that means?”
“No,” Daisy admitted. She was a child caught out by an
unanswerable question, one she feared being given the answer to.
“Why it means you are his sex slave,” Elsinore said.
Daisy blushed as she wiggled nervously under the chain with her
need to pee.
“I like sex,” she admitted.
“Good, but you should not be wet, dear. This isn’t sex. This
is a punishment room.”
“But the condoms and...” Daisy blurted. Her head twisted
about, looking at the foil-wrapped condoms, the oils for lubrication,
and especially the dildos, hoping vainly that Elsinore would see that,
plainly, this room existed for a girl’s pleasure.
“Sexual torment, my dear,” Elsinore said. Absently she lifted
a hand and twisted one of Daisy’s nipples.
“Owwww,” Daisy protested.
“I must give you an enema,” Elsinore taunted.
“Ohhhh, I don’t like THOSE,” Daisy replied.
Kate remembered the party. She and Daisy had suffered enemas
but, after that, with a little encouragement from Ivy, they’d taken
their pleasure of the men in attendance, however they wished, often on
top. Now both girls were back to being slaves again, though Daisy was
just discovering this. Kate had not bothered to try to explain it all
to her. Or, rather, she had, but Daisy had been too busy blathering
about how wonderful the castle was, and how nice and so very handsome
the guards were, and so Kate had decided to let her discover her fate
all by herself. And now she was.
Elsinore bent down and caught Daisy’s childish legs in her
hands. She opened them. There were rings on the floor, attached to
short coiled chains. The guard who’d brought Daisy and Kate crumb caked
out by the pool now came forward and knelt down and secured Daisy’s feet
wide apart.
“Ohhh, what are you going to do?” Daisy asked aloud in a
blubbering voice. She seemed frightened now.
“Such delicious little panties,” Elsinore said, walking behind
her. She yanked down the panties in back so that her entire bottom
showed. Her cheeks stuck out, vulnerable. Daisy waggled her pumpkin
bottom and begged to be let down.
“I’ll have to gag you if you can’t keep quiet,” Elsinore
warned. “Such a pretty white bottom must not go unstriped. It would be
unfitting for a sex slave to walk about all day every day flaunting her
bottom, without some mark on it to show she was owned and submissive.
Have you been caned before, my darling?”
“Nooooo!” Daisy blurted.
“Then you must be trained to it. How can you expect to obey
the Sultan if you don’t feel the sting of his importance upon you? You
must know he is your master. You must feel it. In his absence, I will
provide his mark. I’m more vigorous anyway. He’s too soft and
effeminate and might take too much pleasure in your bottom, and not
discipline it sufficiently. You must be well whipped, my dear, so that
whenever you stand or sit you notice your servitude.
“Eeek! Oh, please!” Daisy cried. But there was no escape for
her. She could barely twist herself under the chain, her legs apart and
secured to the floor to prevent it. Her bare young breasts jiggled on
her chest. Her tummy, frightened, was a hollow beneath her ribs. Her
pubic hair showed above her rolled down panties. Her bottom was a globe
of pleasure waiting to be crossed. Criss-crossed. Her legs wiggled but
had noplace to run to. Big heavy cuffs with locks on them kept them
attached to the floor.
Walking calmly, completely in control as she obviously liked to
be, Elsinore went to a corner and picked up a very long cane. It was
almost as tall as she was. It was made of slim bamboo, sheathed with a
very light envelope of leather to protect it and keep it from wearing
out. At the tip of the cane, to give it an extra touch, it had a small
string. When swung in, the string would slap against the body as the
cane bounced off.
Elsinore gripped the cane at its tip and its slender handle and
bent it into a wide arc as she walked back over to Daisy.
“Ooooh, I have to pee!” Daisy said urgently. She tried lifting
first one foot, then the other, as if to walk off, but the chains held
her feet firmly fixed to the floor.
“Are you making your panties wet thinking of your whipping?”
Elsinore asked the girl. Her slender fingers reached between Daisy’s
legs. She felt her cunt through her soft cottony panties. “Yes, you’re
wet. Try not to pee in your panties, darling. But we can make a
contest of it if you like. Hmmmm,” Elsinore thought to herself. “Yes.
I’m not used to training such a young female, but since you’re a little
girl, that sounds splendid. I’ll give you 100 strokes, and you try not
to pee before I’m finished, or you’ll get fifty more. Deal?”
“Noooooo,” Daisy whined. “I want DOWN!”
“No complaining, my dear, or your punishment will be extended
by one stroke for each little complaint you make. Screaming is quite
permissable, of course. I expect you to scream quite lustily.”
Daisy, suddenly remembering that a friend in need is a friend
in deed, shot her head over to Kate. But Kate was gone. The guard had
walked her over to a post where he now was affixing her arms above her
head. Kate stood as far back as she could from the post. It was wide,
like a column, and made of polished, thickly-waxed wood. But sticking
out of the front of it, forcing Kate to arch back her pussy in fear, was
a giant-sized dildo. Certainly any man would have been proud to possess
such a splendid instrument. But it had actually been created from the
cock of a seven foot American basketball player. Kate studied the big
dildo with a mixture of awe and terrible apprehension.
“You must begin to stretch your cunt, as Elsinore wishes,” he
said to her. He placed a broad calloused palm upon her bottom and eased
her forward. With his other hand, Kate hanging now by her wrists from
the post, he reached between her legs and spread her cunt lips. He
pressed her forward until she felt the giant cockhead splitting its way
into her lips. Then, as Kate gasped and found herself stuffed full of
the head of the cock, the rest still sticking out of her, the guard
pulled forward her feet and locked them to sides of the post.
Frantically Kate looked over her shoulder. Daisy, having found
her, looking back over her own shoulder, gaped at Kate. The two girls
stared in mutual horror at each other, Daisy hanging from the ceiling,
Kate hanging from the post. Curiously, the chain where Kate thought she
might be hung, next to Daisy, remained dangling freely, unused. There
was more than one way to string up a girl in this small room.
Daisy felt Elsinore place the cane across her young quivering
bottom in preparation for the first stroke. Kate, meanwhile, watched
out of the corner of her eye as the guard walked past her. Against the
wall was a cane much like that used by Elsinore. The guard picked it up
and walked to the middle of the room again. Across from him was
Elsinore. The two looked at each other in mutual conspiracy. Elsinore
faced one way, ready to strike the dangling Daisy, ready to hit Kate,
tied to a post near the wall.
“Oh, how delicious!” Kate heard from the hall. The guard
hadn’t bothered to close the door. Kate swivelled her head back again,
and saw Althea and Susie and Debbi enter the room. They walked
casually, unhurriedly, their nipple rings banging against the tips of
their breasts as they walked, their bare bosoms jiggling freely. Althea
still wore panties but Susie was now naked like Debbi. It made little
difference. Except for their earrings and heels, they were all quite
bare.
“EEEEEK!” Daisy hollared upon seeing the newcomers. She didn’t
like having witnesses to her very embarrasing posture. Kate wanted to
scream but could not. Instead she just drew in her breath. She was not
a little girl like Daisy, who had to scream at every frightening or
embarrasing situation.
“May we watch, Lady Elsinore?” Althea asked.
“Only if you agree to participate,” Elsinore answered.
Without the slightest hesitation, Althea walked over to the
single chain which dangled unused. She drew down her panties and
watched them as, at mid-thigh, they suddenly skittered down her legs.
She stepped out of them. She bent and picked them up and held them
aloft on one of her fingers.
“Should I hang these up someplace?” she asked Elsinore.
“On the wall there’s a peg,” Elsinore said. Althea turned and
walked over to the wall. Her bottom rolled with her steps and she had
to stand on tip toe to hang up her panties. Then she sauntered back to
the dangling chain and stood underneath it expectantly.
“When was the last time you were whipped?” Elsinore asked her.
“A week,” Althea answered.
“I’ll have to see it happens more often,” Elsinore said. “A
girl of your experience level should always have a welt or two on her
bottom.”
Althea shivered. “Sultan likes to let it heal,” she said.
“But a week is too long to do without,” Elsinore said. “You
girls are pampered night and day. To let you go without punishment,
you’d soon get uppity and think yourselves real princesses. And then
I’d come home from a shopping trip and find myself ousted. We must not
have that.” She made Althea turn around so she could inspect her bottom
more closely. Helpfully Althea reached up and grabbed hold of the
single remaining chain. “Spread your legs,” Elsinore said to her.
Althea obeyed, though she opened herself rather awkwardly, Kate thought,
looking back at her. It was as if she feared Elsinore’s inspection.
“OH!” Althea gasped. Elsinore, venting her bottom, had stabbed
a finger into it.
“You’re tight,” Elsinore said matter-of-factly. “Who is in
charge of training your bottom?”
“Nobody right now, ma-am!” Althea gasped. Elsinore jammed her
finger higher into her rectum.
“Why is nobody training you?”
“Because he got beheaded,” Althea answered.
Elsinore pulled out her finger. “Go pour some wine for Kate
and Daisy,” she said. “I’ll attend to you after I see to them.”
Althea let go of the chain and settled on her feet again. She
asked Elsinore if Daisy should have her panties removed.
“No, but pick up Kate’s. She left hers on the floor.”
“Tch, so messy,” Althea said. She strolled over to where
Kate’s panties had been pulled off by the guard. Her bra lay on the
floor beside them. Kate wanted to explain that the guard had simply
stripped her, she’d had no time to hang her things. But a quivering rod
placed against her bare bottom made her think twice about implicating
the guard, even if it was his fault. He was about to begin her
whipping.
“Oh, I should so like to see you pee in your panties, Daisy
dear,” Elsinore taunted.
“No oh NO!” Daisy cried. She wriggled in her bonds. Alhtea
poured the requested wine into a flute and brought it over to Daisy.
“Drink. Drink it all,” Althea commanded Daisy. The girl,
frightened into obedience, sipped at the contents of the glass.
Elsinore sighted another stroke on her bottom by placing the rod against
her skin. “I certainly hope I don’t have to hang up wet panties,”
Althea teased.
“Oh, I’m sure to wet them if you won’t let me run to the
potty,” Daisy blubbered. Althea forced her to drink more wine from the
glass.
“I’m ready to begin, Lady Elsinore,” the guard told her.
“Begin,” Elsinore replied. It was a single, short word, but it
changed the state of Kate’s bottom completely. There was a whisking
sound, through the air. One moment her bottom felt cool and comfortable
behind her, despite the stretching of her cuntlips upon the invading
prick. The next moment the cane stuck and Kate found herself screaming
at the top of her lungs. A bright flash of pain blazed across her
bottom. She bounded forward, her legs wrapped along the sides of the
post. The big black prick burrowed into her cunt as she was forced by
the cane to mount it.
“EEEEEEEE!” Kate cried in one long, banshee like scream.
Daisy, still drinking her wine, blubbered it out over her chin. Alhtea
kissed stray droplets off her breasts.
“Work. Work yourself upon the cock,” the guard, himself
dispossessed of one, ordered Kate. Frenziedly she bucked upon the fake
penis. With each gyration of her hips it drove deeper into her. It
made her gasp aloud, it was so huge. The guard brought his cane down
upon her bottom again the minute her movements began to slow.
“Yeeeeeee!” Kate shouted. She fucked the big prick like some
female animal, out in the barn that lay behind the castle. She was a
horse or a cow, not a human. Again the guard smote her lovely ass. Her
resistance at being penetrated all the way up inside herself broke and
she bucked her hips far forward, forcing the black cock right up to her
womb.
“Good. Good. Fuck hard upon the cock. It must stretch you,”
the guard said. “You must be made ready for giving birth to the
Sultan’s children.
“Oh I don’t want to just be a womb,” Kate gasped. Each word
came out separately as she bucked upon the cock. Soon her hips were
moving as smoothly as a snake’s. They wriggled in a fine undulating
motion back and forth, back and forth. Every few moments the guard
would land another blow of the cane upon her bottom, but lighter now, so
as not to disrupt her movements but merely to spur them on.
SSSSSWHACK! Kate heard behind her. Daisy screamed. The first
blow of the cane had fallen upon her.
“The man is here to pierce their nipples,” Susie said to
Elsinore.
“Good. They will receive him more willingly when they are
exhausted,” Elsinore replied absently. She swung her cane in again
against Daisy’s bottom.
“YeeeeeHOOOOO!” Daisy wailed. Kate’s cry joined hers as the
cane struck her again. Both girls sounded like greatly distressed
songbirds. In and out the canes swished. Suddenly Daisy gave a
particularly plaintive wail and Kate knew the girl had given up on her
bladder and peed in her panties, perhaps spurred by the whipping itself.
“I told you to HOLD it!” Elsinore barked at Daisy. The girl
broke into tears. Kate felt tears welling up in her own eyes as the
cane did its bitter work. At first she had been so shocked, so
thoroughly invaded, that the possibilty of crying had been entirely
forgotten. But now, biting her lip, she actively tried to hold them
back. She didn’t want to be a crybaby like she knew Daisy would be.
SSSSWHACK! The cane struck Kate again. Suddenly, unable to
help herself, she broke into sobs. Simultaneously Daisy began to cry in
hopes of escaping. Big blubbering sobs broke from her lungs as Kate
fought, and failed, to control her own tears.
“Such a little crybaby,” Elsinore admonished Daisy. “I said
you could scream, not cry. It will spoil your mascara. Take this and
this and this if you’re going to cry and wet your panties!” Elsinore
shouted. She fired in three quick blows of the cane. Each stuck
Daisy’s bare bottom and bounced off, leaving her cheeks to clench and
then rebound, only to be struck again in their rebounding.
“Stop. Let me serve her some wine,” Althea begged Kate’s
whipmaster. The guard relented for a moment.
“Here. Are you thirsty? This will help with the burning,”
Althea, once Kate’s chaperone, said to her. She offered Kate the same
flute of wine Daisy had drunk from, but Kate minded not. She sipped
quickly at the wine, greedy for it now. Her bottom hurt terribly and
she would do anything to make her whipping stop, however briefly. And
she was little fonder of the penis jammed up inside her cunt. She took
the moment’s break to ease back off the big cock. The head remained,
she could not get it out of her. She was too close to the post, as the
guard wished her to be. But she was able to dislodge most of the long
black member from herself.
“It will lessen the pain some. I mixed it extra strong,” Althea
whispered to Kate. Kate wondered if the wine’s strength had been mixed
strong enough to help with her nipple piercing, and guessed it might
have been.
Kate’s head began to swim. She felt a little lost, forgot a
moment where she was, and felt happy because of it. Then Althea stepped
back and the guard whipped the cane into her again. Kate bucked, felt
the juiced cock slide way up inside her, yelped but minded it less now.
The cane felt like a warm stingy phalanx of bees across her bottom. She
felt her cheeks open behind her as she shoved herself forward
rhythmically on the cock. In, out, in again, lustily, helped by the
cane on her fanny.
Daisy, meanwhile, had her panties torn off and tossed against
the wall. Elsinore, angry with the girl for making a big puddle of
urine on the floor, brought the cane up between the girl’s legs. They
were spread wide and Daisy could only scream as she felt the cane strike
her cunt. As the cane bounced off her pretty nether lips the string
attached to its tip flipped up and gave her a second sting even though
the shaft of the cane was descending beneath her.
WHACK! Again the cane came up, then down, the string giving
her an unwanted second blow as the cane dropped away.
“YEEEEEOOOOOOOWWWW!” Daisy hollared. She lept like a fish in
her bonds but had noplace to go. Elsinore laughed. Susie and Debbi
laughed. Debbi put a hand to her pussy and began rubbing it
sympathetically.
“Stop playing with yourself,” Susie warned her. Debbi,
realizing her error, blushed. She had not even thought of what she was
doing, had simply wanted to help poor Daisy. Unable to caress Daisy’s
pussy, she had helpfully caressed her own.
Perpetually hard, the black penis continued to thrust up inside
Kate each time she shoved her hips forward. She was growing weary. But
the cane kept at her bottom, never ceasing in its admonition to her.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Kate could barely endure the stolid presence
in her now. It never wavered in its attentiveness. It didn’t swell or
diminish. It simply stayed put, forcing its way into her at her
command.
Daisy cried loudly. Lady Elsinore gave her pussy a stinging
introduction to the cane and then returned to paddling her bottom. The
poor girl could only toss her head back and forth and cry as loudly as
possible in response. Althea, watching, clutched her own bottom,
knowing she would be next. Elsinore would be harsher with her, because
she had lived at the castle for a longer time and held a higher position
than the other girls. She was a chaperone, not merely a trainee. She
was expected to take more and, since she would be chained, she would
have no choice but to meet her mistress’s expectations.
Elsinore, her hand growing tired, called a halt to the
whipping. She tossed down her cane and ordered the girls and the guard
to unchain Daisy and Kate. She walked briskly to a small wooden bench.
She placed a pillow upon it and sat down. The bar was next to the bench
and she ordered Althea to serve her wine. Althea scurried over to her
as Susie and Debbi went to work unhooking Daisy. The guard undid Kate.
“Well, you two have done quite nicely,” Elsinore complimented
Kate and Daisy when they were presented to her. They stood with their
hands cuffed behind them, showing her their bushes, their nipples, soon
to be pierced. Both girls had nipples as hard as coral. Their asses
burned. Instinctively they squeezed their cane-reddened bottoms but it
did nothing to lessen the sting. Tears ran freely down their faces,
spoiling their makeup.
“Take them to bed,” Elsinore said to the guard. “They have
performed well today and need only have their nipples pierced. Susie,
Debbi, run along and put ointment on their bottoms for them. They must
be attended to right away or their skin could be damaged. Hurry,
girls! Don’t stand there looking at me. I must attend to Althea.”
The guard escorted Kate and Daisy from the room. They walked
awkwardly. Their hips swayed excessively behind them. They sobbed as
they walked. Susie and Debbi, wriggling their own bottoms and glad to
have escaped Lady Elsinore’s cane, helped them. The foursome, the guard
following them, but pointing the way with his steely eyes, walked down a
stone lined hall to the bedroom that Kate and Daisy shared. The two
girls threw themselves onto their bed. Susie and Debbi climbed in
behind them. Susie took Kate and Debbi took Daisy. The girls opened
jars of salve. They massaged cool slick soothing oil into the girl’s
aching fannies. Kate, still worried for her breasts, sobbed quietly
into her pillow. Daisy cried openly beside her.
As twilight fell, the girls remained unpierced. Kate stood by
her bed. She wondered at the delay. She had been told she would be
pierced at noon, but plans had obviously been changed. She looked at
herself in a full-length mirror. Daisy lay sleeping behind her. Kate
lifted a hand and pinched at her breasts. Pierced. She repeated the
word to herself. Pierced. Would it hurt? Yes, it would hurt. She had
no doubt it would. She pinched at her nipples with her fingernails.
She winced, wondered if she could train herself in these few minutes
before dinner to accept the pain of a piercing. No, she could not. She
could not at all.
Susie and Debbi entered the bedroom, giggling. They waked
Daisy. They cuffed Kate’s hands behind her back with steel handcuffs.
The handcuffs were tight. They cuffed Daisy. The 15-year-old blonde
protested, sleepily, still lost in her dreams.
Kate and Daisy were taken to the bathroom. A tub was filled
and they were put in it. Kate felt like a small child. She could only
kneel in the tub and wait. She was still handcuffed. Susie and Debbi
washed Kate slowly and deliberately. It was as if they were trying to
buy time for her. They washed Daisy slowly. Finally Althea, with too
much makeup on, appeared at the bathroom door and told them to hurry.
When she turned to go out Kate saw long welts across her bare bottom.
She wore long boots and long black gloves.
Kate and Daisy were quickly rinsed and helped from the tub.
Kate’s skin felt like silk. She felt warm, safe, comfortable. She
smelled pleasant. She liked the fresh feeling of the bath. But her
bottom hurt, and she knew her nipples would soon hurt much worse.
The girls were dried with soft towels. Then they were taken
back to the bedroom. Someone had changed their bedding and made their
beds up for them. Upon the bed lay items for them to wear. Strange
items. Kate looked at them and then looked away. She didn’t like them.
“Dress. You must dress,” Kate heard Susie saying to her a
little later. Kate had tried to shut her mind to the world around her,
succeeded a little, or been frightened into success. Despite urging her
to ‘dress’, all Susie offered her was a boot. Kate was made to lift her
leg and Susie worked the boot onto her foot as she stood cuffed by the
bed. The boot went on surprisingly smoothly. It rose to mid-thigh on
Kate and then Susie tied it there. Kate felt the nakedness of her twat
between her legs. The presence of the boot, soon to be joined by
another, accentuated it. She knew somehow she would not be given
panties.
Daisy wept but Debbi put a finger to her lips and warned her
she must stop crying. Ever since Daisy had seen the clothes they were
to wear she’d been crying. Kate had been so self-possessed with her own
fear she hardly noticed it.
Kate’s handcuffs were replaced with soft leather ones lined
with fur. In the moment her hands were free Kate did not resist. A
guard loomed by the door, looked in, just as she was unloosed, but she
would not have resisted anyway. She knew resistance was quite beside
the point now. Daisy, seeing the guard, chose to behave. Her cuffs
were replaced by Debbi.
“Are they tight enough?” Susie asked Kate.
“Too tight,” Daisy replied for them both.
“Don’t lie,” Debbi said, and tightened hers.
The girls had collars fitted around their necks. The collars
were chevron collars. They were peaked in front and forced both girls
to keep their chins up high. Next a bit was fitted to Kate’s mouth, and
to Daisy’s. Then a strip of cloth, which might have been mistaken for
something more useful, proved not to be a bra, or some odd kind of
crotch-panties, but a gag. Each girl was fitted with the gag that lay
on her bed. The gags each kept the wide-mouthed rubber bits in place.
And then the terror came. Susie picked up a black hood off
Kate’s bed. Kate watched with trepidation as Susie shook the hood once,
then fitted it over her head. The world went black before Kate’s eyes
and then reappeared within two eyeholes. There was a place for her nose
to poke through and Susie put a finger under her nose to make sure she
was still breathing. Then she stepped behind Kate and tied the hood
tightly around her neck. The chevron collar kept the hood from being
too tight. Then Susie checked Kate’s breathing again.
“Good. You are ready to be pierced,” Susie said to Kate. “You
can have dinner afterward.”
Daisy rebelled. The guard had to be called in and he held her
as the hood was put over her head.
Susie bent and parted Kate’s legs. She attached a clip to one
of her cuntlips. Kate winced. With the gag on, she could not cry out.
She heard Daisy give a muffled scream as the same was done to her.
Susie attached a leash to Kate’s cunt clip. Debbi did the same to
Daisy.
The girls were led from their bedroom. They walked down the
long hall and then turned out into a broader hallway. It was lined with
tall candles. Kate realized there were guests thronging at the end of
the hall and she saw the Sultan there, sitting up on a high throne.
Before him, on the floor, a wooden trestle waited beside a low bench.
Led by their cunts, Kate and Daisy were brought before the
Sultan. They were made to curtsey to him, hooded, their hands cuffed
behind them. Daisy tried to resist and was given a hard slap by Debbi.
“Do not resist, Daisy, or you will feel my wrath ten times
over,” a voice barked out. It was a female’s voice. Abruptly all four
girls turned their heads. Lady Elsinore stood among the guests. She
wore a long flowing skirt but she was topless. Her hair was exquisitely
curled and piled atop her head. She held a long snaking whip in her
right hand. She wore bracelets on her wrists, on her upper arms. They
were black bracelets. Little carved snakes adorned them.
Kate and Daisy were told to open their legs. Elsinore ordered
it, and Susie and Debbi enforced the new posture. Kate looked down at
the kneeling bench in front of the trestle. It was mounded with pillows
to comfort their knees. Before them, the trestle loomed. It was made
of wood but covered with a substantial black padded cushion. Susie
pushed Kate forward. Falling forward, Kate felt her breasts drop onto
the cushion. It pushed them up, displaying their nakedness. Her
breasts were an offering now. Her nipples stood out stiffly, still
oblivous to the danger they faced. Under her, her legs knelt in a
wide-open vee.
Debbi pushed Daisy forward and she fell to her knees. Her
bosoms plopped down onto the trestle. Working quickly, Debbi passed a
belt behind Daisy’s back. The belt was lined with fur so it would feel
comfortable against Daisy’s bare back. All was comfort, except for the
ceremony Daisy knew was to follow. She shivered and wept in her bonds.
Beside her Kate was belted against the trestle by Susie. The belts were
tightened. The girls felt themselves held fast against the trestle.
Their breasts loomed out beneath them, pushed up and offered by the
trestle’s thick firm padding.
Kate’s boots stuck out off the bench behind her. A ring was
passed over the heel of each of her boots. It connected, by a length of
taut chain, to the floor. Kate felt herself trapped. But, despite the
precautions, one more was taken. A strap was passed behind each of her
knees and then attached to the trestle in front of her. Now she could
not stand and she could barely do more than swivel her head or rotate
her bottom. With her legs apart, she felt her cunny naked beneath her,
all vulnerable, and she wondered if any plans had been made for it. She
did not have to wonder long. As soon as Daisy was secured, Susie and
Debbi each went to the Sultan and recieved a large ersatz prick from
him. They returned to their charges and knelt behind them. They each
oiled up the prick they’d been given with a squirt bottle of oil handed
to them by Elsinore.
Kate gasped as a fake cock was suddenly rammed up her by
Debbi. Susie screeched behind her gag. When the cocks were intruded,
which took several minutes, a harness was fitted to each girl’s waist to
keep the fake prick inside.
A man strode forth. He was slender but well-built. He
undressed before the girls, taking off a robe, then trousers, finally
his underpants. To the astonishment of the crowd he produced a fine
penis when his shorts were pulled down.
Leaving on just a black mask and sylish walking boots, the man
showed his penis to the Sultan.
“Sultan, may I keep my cock in your presence?” the man asked.
Kate guessed the question was rhetorical, for as he spoke he flourished
his manhood at the Sultan.
“Yes, as we agreed, you may. But put a cock ring on it,” the
Sultan said. “And see that it is painfully tight. Lady Elsinore, would
you do him, please?”
With a swagger of her lovely hips, Lady Elsinore walked out to
the man. She seemed especially pleased by his cock. She bent and
kissed it and then, kneeling, she was given a cock ring by a guard, who
held a sharp scythe in his other hand lest the Sultan should change his
mind.
“My, I’m so happy the last ringmaster got himself beheaded,”
Lady Elsinore purred. She was bare breasted and she stuck the new
ringmaster’s penis between her ample breasts to hold it. Then, working
with open admiration, she nonetheless tightened a strap around the man’s
balls and then passed a second strap, attached to the first, up and over
the base of his penis.
“Ack! Not so tight!” the ringmaster said.
“You must not feel pleasure. Only the sultan may feel
pleasure,” Lady Elsinore said. He rose from between her bosoms. She
studied his aching cock a moment and then let go of him. “How brave you
are to come before the Sultan,” she said. She kissed the tip of his
cock.
“The money’s what counts,” the man replied. “Just so I get out
of here with my dick still in one piece.”
“Pierce the girls,” she told him. “Their breasts are ready for
you.”
Kate closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear to look at even such a
fine penis as the man before her sported. She squeezed back tears. She
had gone too far, she told herself. Yet, despite Daisy struggling
beside her, trapped in her bonds, Kate made no move to rise. She would
accpet. She would accpet the rings and, later, she would accept the
brands with the Sultan’s initials on them. She would bear his children
in the barn behind the castle. She would ride the rocking horse with
the cock sticking up from the saddle to stretch her cunt for him.
Kate felt a finger touch her breast. She flinched. It
squeezed her right nipple and held it. Kate stilled herself. It
stroked across the tip of her nipple. The touch was feathery-soft and
caressing. It felt like the last thing in the world it wanted to do was
hurt her. Yet, opening her eyes just a little, she saw, lying next to
the man on the floor, a gun laid there by the guard with the scythe. It
was a needle gun. It would be used to pierce her and when she saw it
she snapped her eyes shut.
She tried not to breathe. Somewhere beside her Daisy, despite
her gag, was crying. Oil was squirted onto her nipples. Then the
finger touched her again, just on her nipples, and rubbed the dripping
oil into her flesh. Her pink nipples felt wet and when the man leaned
forward his breath on her bosom, she felt a sudden warmth as he blew on
her nipples.
“Oh!” Kate cried somewhere behind her gag. He put a finger
beneath her nose to check that she was still breathing. She was. He
seemed concerned for her welfare. She liked that. But when she opened
her eyes the needle gun was still there, and fearfully she shut out the
world again behind her long lashes.
For a long time the man blew on her nipples. It made her
quiver, the way her nipples warmed whenever he blew on them. The warmth
was almost burny. She wished he would stop. It tormented her. She
wanted her nipples to be pierced, if they must be pierced, so she could
get up and leave.
Daisy sqirmed beside her. It was impossible to make out what
the gagged girl was saying but she guessed Daisy wished to tell someone
she had to go to the bathroom.
Ice! Suddenly, as Kate thought of Daisy and how she might have
to pee, she felt the cold wetness of ice upon her. The contrast of it
against her burning hot breathed-upon nipples was startling. Her eyes
flew open and she saw the man’s face close, grinning at her. His mask
hid his features but she could tell somehow, by his eyes, that he was
grinning. She liked his eyes. They were bold intense eyes, blue as the
desert sky. He passed the ice around and over her nipples, almost
freezing them off her, making her buck and flinch and somehow, despite
the pin gun lying on the floor at his knees, she liked how he was firm
with her and tormented her with the ice. She just wished she could keep
her nipples intact at the end of his game.
She shut her eyes again. Passion was welling within her. The
big artificial cock filled her, stabbing deep into her, and she was glad
of it suddenly, as if it were his. But she felt still empty somehow,
for it was not his, and the trestle stood between her small buzzing
naked clitty and his fingers.
A mouth came to her right nipple. The man’s mouth, with his
stubbled face pressing against her breast. He sucked hard. She wanted
to scream. She loved his suckling of her tits, first one, then the
other, and she hated herself for loving him so. She must be pierced
soon. This could not go on much longer. She could hear the crowd
growing restless around her. The Sultan coughed.
“She is quite ready, I can assure you,” Lady Elsinore
interrupted. She spoke to the man, and grabbed him by his hair, and
pulled his head back, for he was reluctant to take his mouth from Kate’s
nipples, as if he were her child and she his mother. “I’ve never seen
such hard little tits,” Lady Elsinore said admiringly. She gazed at
Kate’s wet nipples and Kate steeled herself for the pin gun. There was
no hope. She was bound, gagged. Her nipples would be forever changed
by the Sultan and she would be owned by him forever. In his horrible
castle where he treated her like a princess but didn’t love her.
Kate could feel the tension in the room and she could feel it
in her back, in her swollen hurting bottom, in her lovely long thighs
and her well-turned calves and her feet. The boots clung to her legs
like shackles. She tossed her hair. It was all she could do to prepare
herself.
Suddenly, beside her, she heard a wetting sound. Daisy, in her
fright, was peeing! She opened her eyes and tried to turn her head but
the chevron collar prevented it.
“Daisy! You pee like a dog!” Kate heard Lady Elsinore say.
Suddenly there was a commotion. Kate heard voices. Urgent
voices. She tried to tie the voices to the nautiness of Daisy’s peeing
but she couldn’t.
“I say! We’re here, good man!” Kate heard in a clipped British
accent some distance behind her.
Gunshots went off. First one, then another, and suddenly there
was confusion swirling all around Kate. To her intense surprise she saw
the man who was to pierce her nipples jump up and hurl the pin gun at
the Sultan. He was hit in the face and blood spurted from his face and
he fell from his throne.
A huge neutered guard attacked the masked man who’d come to
pierce her nipples. He swung at the man’s stiff cockringed penis and
just missed it with his scythe. The man in the mask executed a judo
maneuver and suddenly the guard went up and over him, despite his
weight, and fell sprawling behind him to the floor.
Now the masked man really sprang into action. Tearing the mask
from his face, so he could see more clearly, he bent and picked up the
guard’s scythe. No sooner had he retreieved the scythe than another
guard came at him.
“Trent!” Kate cried. It was her love! The one who’d she’d
been with so long ago at Marie’s, and then spurned. As she watched,
barely able to breathe from fright and excitement, Trent battled the
guard and managed to elude the guard’s scythe and sent his own borrowed
scythe stabbing into the guard’s groin.
“Aughghghck!” the guard cried. He clapped his hands to his
groin.
“Well, I’ve made a man out of you,” Trent laughed, for the
scythe stuck up out of the guard’s groin like a penis might have, had
the Sultan not removed it years ago. Trent’s own capable weapon stuck
out stiffly in front of him. He had no time to enjoy the agony of the
guard in front of him, though, for another rushed at him, from behind.
Trent scooped up a scythe dropped by the second guard when he stabbed
him with the scythe from the first. Turning, he flung it into the third
guard before the guard could reach him.
“I say, man, you put Extreme Fighting to shame,” an English
voice said. An Arabian man dashed past the trestle where Kate was
kneeling. She blanched. There was no defense. The English-sounding
Arab had a gun.
As Kate held her breath, sure that her lover was finished, the
Arab reached Trent. He handed him his gun. He unholstered another from
his belt and began firing, with careful and deliberate aim, but quickly,
into the crowd.
“Just the guards, man. Not the people,” the Arab warned Trent
as Trent took aim with his gun.
Together they finished off the guards. Other armed men moved
in and detained the guests, who were all unarmed, thanks to a rule of
the Sultan. Looking foolish, he lay at the foot of his throne. His
face showed a large gash and blood flowed from it. He appeared
unconscious.
“Someone see to that wound and then tie him,” the Arab with
Trent commanded his men. “It would not do to kill a prince of the House
of Fahd.”
The next day Kate, her bottom still hurting, found herself
sitting next to Trent on an airplane. Daisy, in the window seat,
munched peanuts beside her. A stewardess appeared and Trent ordered
drinks for herself and him and a coke for Daisy.
“Ohhh, I want a Gin and Tonic too!” Daisy whined.
“What shall we do with her?” Kate asked Trent, and slapped her
friend on the arm. Curiously, Daisy did not slap Kate back but merely
pouted.
“I don’t mind two girls living with me,” Trent said.
“Well, Daisy was used horribly by her uncle, so it’s just as
well she doesn’t go back to him,” Kate said.
“He had tasty sperm!” Daisy said. Kate frowned at her. “But I
still want to live with you,” Daisy added.
“Just be glad that in searching for you I ran into an Arab
student who was willing to help you,” Trent said. “He finds you very
attractive.”
“I suppose I must thank him somehow,” Kate mused.
“I said I would make you ‘a’ slave, but I never said you could
just freelance,” Trent told her.
“He is quite handsome,” Kate said.
The stewardess served their drinks. The Arab appeared soon
after, grinning. He gazed unobtrusively into the front of Kate’s low
cut blouse.
“I want to thank you again, sir,” Kate said to him.
“It is nothing. I was bored studying in England,” he replied.
“Now I have to go back, of course.”
“Well perhaps I can ease your boredom a little, now that you’ve
freed me from the Sultan,” Kate said.
“I wish he was dead. He’s a big fat toad!” Daisy piped up.
“Ah, I mustn’t kill him,” the student said. “But roughing him
up a little is fine, provided my government doesn’t find out who did
it.”
“So you think?” Trent asked.
“Yes,” the Arab replied, taking another swig of his drink.
“The operation proved remarkably successful. Perhaps one day I shall
return, and try my luck with a more formidable target.”
Kate gulped. She had little doubt who he meant. The king
himself. She could tell by the demeanor of this fiery young student
that he eyed the king’s throne for himself.
“Well, I owe you one,” Trent said.
“Not at all, man. Although of course if I need your help I’ll
certainly ask for it,” the Arab replied. He eyed Kate again. She could
not decide whether she liked him better with the beard he’d worn
yesterday, or the clean-shaven face he sported today.
“Until then,” the Arab said, and lifted his glass to Kate, but
seemed to be speaking to Trent.
“Uh, yes, until then,” Trent replied. Kate wondered whether
the Arab referred to his planned overthrow of the king or his bedding of
Kate.
“Until then,” she smiled at him, shifting in her seat a
little. He smiled back at her. And she realized he referred to both.
THE END
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