Kate and Julia: Slave Girls of the Raj Read online

  Kate and Julia 2: Slave Girls Of The Raj by Lindsey Brooks

  Copyright 2012 Lindsey Brooks

  Published by Strict Publishing International

  Chapter 1

  Julia’s nipples were no longer their usual pink but the deep wine-red of the rouge that Afia had just finished smearing over them. They stood out boldly on her breasts; two up-tilted cones that pulsed gently from the friction of the native girl’s fingers.

  Staring at the image of the painted face framed by golden blonde hair that gazed back at her from the mirror, Julia felt a thrill of pleasure.

  Her master had told her she was beautiful and it was true. She looked as strikingly exotic as the darkly lovely girls with whom she had shared Jahngir Khan’s zenana for the last four days. She felt beautiful too, and feminine and desirable in a way that was totally new to her.

  Her eyes were drawn to the bare pout between her slightly parted thighs and her belly gave a flip. Not only did she feel desirable, she also felt desire. It was this place in which she had been imprisoned. Its whole atmosphere was imbued with carnality. During every waking moment she saw, smelled and felt it – the exotic eastern furnishings, the silken cushions piled around the richly carpeted floor, the bare skins of herself and her companions, scarcely concealed by their luxurious but scanty clothing. The air was heady with the scent of roses and jasmine and sandalwood, and always, it seemed, a faint but provocative aroma of female arousal.

  It all seemed too incredible to be real. Just a few days earlier Julia had been a lady’s travelling companion accompanying Mrs. Winter, a respectable young widow, on her journey from England to India’s North-West Frontier. With only hours remaining before they reached their destination she and Kate, the lively redheaded girl who had attached herself to them on the voyage from England, had been drugged and abducted by white slavers. Quickly separated from Kate, Julia had found herself handed over to a native Pathan and carried off to his mountain fortress to be forcibly trained as a slave-concubine. Her only hope now was that Mrs. Winter had alerted the authorities and that they were searching for her and Kate, but imprisoned deep in the remote mountains she had little expectation of rescue.

  Timid and shy by nature, Julia had suffered agonies of embarrassment as well as intense discomfort as the man she had to call master had stripped her naked, dressed her like one of his houris and forced her to endure the most lewd experiences. And to Julia’s utter shame and humiliation, she had responded by surrendering to her base passions and allowed herself to become aroused by what had been done to her.

  The girls spent much of each day making themselves more beautiful for their lord and most of the rest in anticipation of his arrival, each, Julia guessed, with the hope that he would choose her as his bed-partner for the night. Not that Jahngir Khan, she had discovered to her dismay and shock, confined his carnal activities to the hours of the night.

  It ought to be boring, at least for his concubines, who did not have the threat of being sold into slavery hanging over their heads as she did, yet the girls never seemed to be bored. Neither did they seem to argue or squabble with one another, as Julia would have expected, though she had only her past experience at an all-girls school to judge by. Rivalries and jealousies had been abundant there. She had thought that six young, healthy women competing for the attentions of a single man would have created even more. Of course, Jahngir’s strict discipline might have something to do with it, but that did not appear to be the main reason.

  Julia had the impression that it was much more the fact that the girls genuinely liked one another and, more importantly, liked their master too and did not want to disappoint him.

  They had not been unkind to her either, even though, she had been stunned to discover, they considered her an uncultured barbarian – just what she had thought about them until she had begun to recognise and understand that they were no such thing. Different to anything Julia had encountered before they may be, but they were far from the ignorant savages she had taken them for in the beginning, and so was their lord and master.

  Jahngir had been absent for much of the previous day. Shortly after he had shared the girl’s morning meal, while he was watching Julia standing self-consciously naked in front of a mirror being lightly oiled from neck to ankles by Afia and Laila, he had been called away urgently.

  It had been nearly dark when he had returned, sweat-stained and dusty.

  To Julia, it had seemed inevitable that he had chosen her as well as Saba to accompany him to the bath house, and that the two girls sponging his naked body would produce the startling change in the direction his penis pointed that was a shock to her modesty every time it happened. To her great relief he had selected Saba to serve him with her lips.

  But Julia had not escaped entirely. Jahngir had escorted her to her bed, and in fear and an embarrassing anticipation she had raised her wrists eagerly to have the manacles that he chained her with each night close around them. They had absolved her of guilt when his fingers had tickled their way up her inner thighs and toyed deliciously between them.

  Not only had he surprised her by once again planting a kiss low on her belly and another on her moist-lipped mouth, but he had also asked if he should free one of her hands. Cringing in embarrassment at the implication in the question, Julia had refused.

  The result had been another restless night with her arousal making frustrating demands that she could not meet. They had become even more insistent when the lights had gone out, and in the dim glow of the lamp Jahngir lit in the cubicle next to hers Julia had watched through the gaps in the wooden screen as he had taken his pleasure with Saba. The sights and sounds of it had made her heartbeat quicken and her wrists tug at the steel encircling them.

  Why had her mother told her it was an unpleasant task, she wondered. From the noises Saba had made it was clear that she had enjoyed it, even when, amazingly, she had knelt on the bed, reached back to spread her buttocks and let Jahngir Khan enter what lay between them.

  It was then that Julia had turned away, and with a clinking of chains had pressed her hands to her ears and drawn up her knees to her chest. Even when she had finally slept she had been unable to escape the sensuality in the charged atmosphere of the zenana. Not for the first time, her dreams had been full of the carnal pleasures she had witnessed since her enslavement.

  Laila’s image appeared in the mirror, standing looking over Julia’s shoulder. The girl casually adjusted the folds of the tiny triangle of white silk that hung from a thin cord around her hips and which was the only covering she was wearing.

  “You look much better than when you first arrived, Tsira,” she said with a smile at Julia’s reflection. “You are more like one of us now.”

  The smile Julia returned her was uncertain. She had no wish to resemble one of Jahngir’s concubines. She was not a slave.

  “Come, you must be oiled,” Afia told her. “We will go to the bath.”

  “But you did it here yesterday.”

  “Not today,” the girl said flatly.

  “Why have the girls started calling me Tsira?” Julia asked as they crossed the garden to the bath. “I know tsir means yellow, for my hair I suppose, but I already have a name.”

  “But only a foreign one, which my lord says has no meaning.”

  “What difference does that make when it’s what I’m called?”

  “A name should mean something,” Afia said. “Mine means ‘vitality’. Reshmina’s means ‘silken’ and Helai’s ‘swan’. Saba’s is ‘morning’ and Laila’s ‘beloved’, and Orzala’s means ‘the brightness of fire’. When you have your own master he will decide your name but until then we will ca
ll you Tsira.”

  “M… my name is Julia.” She felt a hollowness in her belly as she spoke it. “I don’t want to have it changed, especially not by someone who thinks he can buy and sell me as if I was a cow or a horse.”

  “Alas, that is not for you to choose.” Afia smiled at her. “But do not be too downhearted. It may be that you will not find yourself standing on the auction block as you fear.”

  “What do you mean? Has something happened? Are the authorities searching for Kate and I?” Julia asked hopefully.

  “No, nothing like that.” Afia stopped on the bathhouse steps and faced her. “I can say no more. My lord has said I will be flogged with the switch if I reveal what he told me, and you too. But you are not going to be auctioned, I promise. Now you must promise not to reveal that I have told you.”

  “I do. But what is going to happen to me?” Julia asked anxiously.

  Afia would not reply. She urged Julia onto one of the cool marble slabs in the bathhouse and began oiling her skin. The scent of sandalwood filled the air, and soon she felt the same sensuously soporific dreaminess in her head that she had the first time the girl had massaged her back and buttocks and thighs. At least this time she was not in danger of being surprised by Jahngir Khan, she thought. Soon after she had awoken he had left, dressed for riding as he had been the previous day, and clearly intent on repeating whatever he had been doing then.

  Curiosity surfacing through the fuzziness in her brain, Julia asked Afia what it was.

  “My lord has gone to aid in the work of building the channel that will carry water to the town,” she said. “There was some problem yesterday which only he could solve.”

  “He builds things?” Julia asked, surprised.

  “Yes. He studied in England. He is what is called an… engineer?”

  She spoke the obviously unfamiliar word slowly. “There are wells, but many people draw their water from the river. Sometimes it almost dries up in summer and is no longer fit to drink. My lord is diverting one of the streams in the mountains so there will be water all the time. He is skilful in such things. He built a clinic and brought a doctor from Rawalpindi to care for the sick, and he has given many homes the light that burns without fire.” There was a note of pride in her voice.

  “Electricity,” Julia said absently as she absorbed what the girl had said. She had been right in thinking Jahngir was more than an uncouth barbarian, but she had not realised how much more. “He was educated in England,” she said. Then he knew British ways and that women there were not confined and forced to submit. Yet he had still done it to her.

  “He was there for several years,” Afia said. “And he and his brother were visiting England when the revolt happened and his father was killed. They came back with the British to arrest their uncle.”

  “There was a revolt?”

  “The Prince was killed by his brother who wished to rule in his place. The Prince’s sons got help from the British to punish their uncle’s treachery. He died in the fighting.”

  Julia rolled onto her side and looked hard at the native girl, the relaxing massage forgotten. “Then… then Jahngir Khan is a prince?”

  “No, his brother is now Prince. My lord is always very insistent about that. Do not speak about what I have told you. He would not admit it but his uncle’s plot to overthrow my lord’s father is a sore subject with him. Since his brother became ruler he is now in the same position his uncle was with their father.”

  “And he thinks people see him in the same way,” Julia said, “as a potential rival for his brother’s throne.”

  “Perhaps some do. There are always those who are discontented with the way things are. My lord has done much to improve the lot of the people but he is always careful to make sure his brother gets the credit too.”

  “Is there rivalry between them?” Julia asked.

  Afia shrugged. “There is some, I’m sure. That is the way of brothers, I think. But my lord has never done anything disloyal, nor ever would. If anything, he tries too hard to prove he has no ambition to become ruler. I think that is why he is so bad-tempered sometimes, especially now. He hoped to have the water supply ready for the anniversary of his brother becoming Prince but the work has gone more slowly than expected. There are only a few days to go and it will not be ready in time.”

  Julia gave a sudden gulp. There were only a few days left for her too. Afia may have told her she would not be auctioned but it was still plain that Jahngir Khan meant her to be a slave. So whose slave was she to be? As the question arose in her mind so did a sudden suspicion and it was one which, to her great surprise, made her heartbeat quicken.

  “Lie on your back,” Afia said, and soon Julia surrendered again to the languor the girl’s rhythmic rubbing created, even when she felt her slick palms slide over her firm breasts and down to her belly and thighs.

  Afia’s fingers moved gently to and fro on the soft skin on the insides of the latter, drawing ever closer to the place where they met. Julia stiffened, eyelids flickering open. The native girl’s dark gaze met hers.

  “Relax. You are to be pleasured. My lord has ordered it.”

  “Oh, no, not again!” Julia wailed. “You’re a girl. It isn’t right. I don’t want you to.” She groaned, and clamped her legs together on Afia’s suddenly tickling fingers.

  “You say that but your body does not agree,” Afia said.

  “I know,” Julia groaned dejectedly. Her nipples had been like pebbles from the moment she had awoken, and she had felt tingly and moist long before the native girl’s first touch.

  “I brought you here so the others will not see. I know it is harder for you when they are watching.” Afia smiled. “It must happen, little golden hair. My lord has said so. You may as well enjoy it.”

  Julia swallowed. There were no manacles to chain her wrists, no hands to hold her and force her to surrender. “Wh… what if I refuse? I know I will be punished. What about you?”

  Afia nodded. “I would not have obeyed my lord’s order.”

  Gritting her teeth, Julia gripped the edges of the marble slab. “You must do it then.”

  It felt lovely. Somewhere amid the wonderful sensations Afia’s slender fingers created within her and the shivering thrills that made her beauty-bud emerge, Julia lost her hold on the marble and discovered her own hands roving over her oily nakedness, squeezing and rubbing while her blood pulsed through her veins. She could not stop herself. Nor, she realized, building towards her climax as Afia teased her ever more profoundly, did she want to. Julia suddenly gave a long, gasping sigh and shuddered ecstatically, back arching and hips writhing in the grip of the marvellously tickling spasms. Breasts heaving as she sucked air into her lungs, she felt a gentle tug on her wrist.

  “Get up. Now it is your turn to pleasure me.”

  “What?” Julia’s belly went tight as Afia drew her to her feet. Her knees struggled to support her. “Y… you mean…?”

  “My lord has ordered that too.” The native girl took her place on the massage table. “You must do it to me.”

  “But….” Julia realized that Jahngir Khan had been entirely serious when he had told her he would make her do it. She remembered the awful fire of the ginger in her rear. He may not have beaten her but his methods of discipline were almost as frightening as the cane and perhaps only a little less distressing. She looked down at the naked girl. Her excitement was obvious in the pout of her sensual lips and the brightness of her eyes with their dilated pupils. A fine sheen of sweat coated her pale brown skin and a scent that the English girl had come to recognise easily in the last few days clung to her. She had been as aroused by what had happened as Julia was.

  “I… I’ve never….” Julia swallowed nervously.

  “It’s easier to pleasure another girl than it is a man,” Afia said, giving a soft, breathy sigh. “Just do what you like to do to yourself.”

  Anxious, Julia moved closer to the marble slab. Yet, she was curious too. Would Afia react to
her touch the same way she had to the native girl’s? Would she feel the same there as Juila herself did, and would she tingle with excitement at the touch of her fingers? Would Afia squirm and wriggle her hips too?

  Julia felt a stab of guilt as she watched her hand reach out and rest low down on the warmth of the girl’s soft-skinned belly. Her mother would be horrified if she knew what she was contemplating. She had said only a certain kind of woman would give in to her baser desires, but Julia did not believe Afia was that sort and neither did she think it of herself.

  Her reaction to the girl’s teasing touch had been perfectly natural and inevitable.

  Afia’s hand closed over hers and pushed it downwards until it rested on the smooth, warm skin between her thighs. Julia let it stay there. She had seen and heard Jahngir making love to the other girls. Her mother had been wrong about it being a chore. Suddenly convinced she had also been wrong about giving in to the pleasure, Julia stroked a fingertip over what lay beneath her fingers. Afia gave a soft groan and a little quiver.

  “Do… do you like girls?” Julia asked, driven by her need to know.

  “Better than men, I mean.”

  “Oh, no! There is nothing so good as a strong man, if my lord is anything to judge by. But there is pleasure to be had from a woman’s touch too, when he permits.” She gave a soft gasp and rubbed herself against Julia’s hand. “Now, would you please begin? It is very frustrating to feel your fingers so close but not moving.”

  “My mother says lovemaking is something for men to enjoy and women to put up with,” Julia continued, trying not to think about where she had just slipped her middle finger. “She says women are not meant to take pleasure in it unless they are the lowest sort.”

  The native girl made a sound between a laugh and a grunt. “Then she has not served you well. It is the greatest of pleasures, for men and women both. She must be a very sad woman to believe anything else.”

  “She is,” Julia said with her chest tightening, “though not because of that.”

  “Ooh! Don’t slow down,” Afia gasped, “and rub me here.” She pointed a finger.