Kate and Julia: Slave Girls of the Raj Page 2

  Julia looked at the little bump of flesh that her rubbing had prompted to appear. Catching her breath at the enormity of what she was doing she complied with the girl’s request.

  “Yes. Yes, that’s it,” Afia said breathlessly. She squirmed. Her mouth opened and her eyes closed as she lost herself in the pleasure.

  Julia knew exactly how she felt. She really was doing it, she thought, as she slid her fingers deeper, seeking to give the native girl the same delight that Afia had given her.

  “Oh, mother forgive me,” Julia muttered guiltily as she felt a tingling of her own and the native girl wriggled under her touch while the odour of arousal filled the air. An abrupt up-thrust of Afia’s hips and a sudden clenching of her muscles told the English girl she had climaxed.

  She continued rubbing her, well aware that it would heighten the girl’s pleasure. Suddenly filled with shame at how far she had allowed herself to go, Julia pulled her hand away and stepped back. Her naked body met something very large and warm and solid. Startled, she turned, saw a broad, hairy chest directly in front of her, and looked up in fright into Jahngir Khan’s smiling face.

  “I am pleased to see my orders are being obeyed,” he said. The Pathan was wearing jodhpurs and tall riding boots, and holding a dusty shirt in one hand. Julia’s prominent breasts were pressing into his chest.

  She drew back and felt the hard marble table against the small of her back. She had expected him to be away for most of the day. Instead, he had returned in time to watch the girls manipulating one another. With a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach, Julia felt her cheeks flame with a fierce blush.

  “Has your work gone well, my lord?” Afia asked as she got to her feet.

  Jahngir pulled a face. “It progresses once more but it could be as much as three weeks before it is finished. The aqueduct will not be ready in time. That is why I must have another gift to present on the day of the anniversary.” He went to the stone bench beside the bath and began pulling off his boots. Afia hurried to help. Julia remained where she was.

  “Return to the zenana, Afia. The little murgah will help me bathe.” He crooked a finger at Julia and a shiver ran through her as the native girl left her alone with him. “Do you forget the penalty for disobedience so soon?” Jahngir asked, no longer smiling when she continued to keep her distance.

  She approached him warily. Her shyness had resurfaced the moment she had set eyes on him and so had her fear, but she knelt when he told her to and helped him remove his other boot.

  “The trousers now,” he said.

  With trembling fingers she loosened their buttons, very conscious of the large bulge beneath the material. The Pathan slid them down his muscular thighs. He wore nothing beneath and his brown-skinned, half-upright length was suddenly pointing directly at Julia’s face. A tremor tickled through her. Shocked, she looked away, but he drew her to her feet and led her down the steps into the warm, steaming water of the bath.

  He dunked a sponge and held it out.

  “Hurry,” he ordered when she hesitated. “Time is short. Yesterday was wasted as far as training you was concerned. Today we will make up for it.”

  Julia rubbed the sponge over his broad shoulders and chest, afraid to move it lower and afraid of being punished if she did not. But most of all she feared the tingling excitement that was growing within her once again. Her fears warred with each other, but she had known all along that she had no choice. She moved the sponge over the ridged muscles on Jahngir’s stomach, wincing each time her forearm came in contact with the manhood rising from his groin. Below it, she could see the sac of his scrotum bobbing on the water’s surface. The sudden temptation to reach down and touch it made her look away, disgusted with herself.

  His fingers pressing her jaw, turned her head towards him, and dark, intense eyes looked deep into hers. She gulped. He plucked the sponge from her fingers, grasped her wrist and guided her hand downwards. Julia gave a startled gasp and found she could not tear her wide-eyed gaze from his. Heart thumping, she curled her fingers around what she was touching, as she had seen the other girls do. It was rigid, powerful, commanding. Somehow it seemed natural to move her hand up and down on it. Jahngir’s eyes narrowed and he reached for her breasts.

  She looked down as his wet fingers rubbed the dark-red rouge from their tips, revealing they were firm and pink. Julia’s belly flipped and she felt a prickling where her thighs met. Her tentative hold on the warm, thick flesh tightened. Its tip too was pink, and shining in the sunlight coming through the open-fronted bathhouse.

  The sudden pressure of Jahngir’s hand on her shoulder made Julia sink to her knees with the water lapping around her breasts. She felt mesmerised by his manhood. It seemed to pulse beneath her fingers.

  “Open your mouth,” the Pathan said.

  Julia parted her lips and felt the resistance in his rigid flesh as she pulled it down to meet her lips. They parted and she leaned forwards. It touched her mouth. Sanity returned and Julia leaped up and fled. Jahngir caught her before she even reached the steps of the bath. He dragged her back with one hand around her waist while the other dealt her a stinging smack on her bottom.

  “Ooh, don’t!”

  “Be silent,” he said, “and stand straight with your arms by your sides.”

  She had been about to cover her nakedness but stopped her movements as she saw the anger flashing in his eyes.

  “So, you think it is right for your master to give you pleasure, but you refuse to do the same for him?”

  “None of it is right,” Julia cried, surprised she was ready to argue.

  “You shouldn’t be touching me at all, or making me do those awful things. You’ve lived in England. You know it is wrong to treat a white woman like this.”

  “It seems Afia has been doing more than just pleasure you,” he said dryly. “But whatever the colour of your skin, you are a woman and meant to be ruled by a man. I know many whites see sex as sinful and feel guilt for taking pleasure in it, but that is not the way here. Jefferson was right about overcoming your cultural inhibitions. I had not expected them to be quite so strong. But they will be overcome, little murgah. If I have to beat them out of you, you will be ready on the appointed day.

  You will be a trained and willing slave girl.”

  Julia trembled at the anger and determination in his expression, and felt her utter helplessness in the face of his strength and power.

  “Besides,” he continued, “it is plain that you do find pleasure in the ‘awful things’ done to you. I don’t believe you are half so set against them as you pretend.”

  “That’s not true. I… I can’t help what I feel. Any woman would be the same if it was forced upon her as it has been on me.”

  “Forced? Perhaps to some extent, but not so much as you want to believe, I think. Let’s see, shall we?” He pointed to the floor at his feet.

  “Kneel.”

  “Oh, don’t!” Julia pleaded, certain he was going to make her serve him with her mouth.

  “Do as you’re told. Have you forgotten you call me ‘Master’? Do you imagine my orders are to be obeyed only when it suits you?”

  She did not. Belly fluttering, she sank to her knees.

  “Spread your thighs more.”

  Julia shuffled them wider, face burning with embarrassment as his gaze went between them. To her surprise, he sat down on the stone bench several feet away. Did she dare hope? Would he spare her the horrid ordeal?

  “Now, I want to see you pleasure yourself,” Jahngir said.

  Julia’s mouth fell open. He had merely spared her one trial to make her suffer another. Her heart seemed to shrink in her breast.

  “You have already displeased me and will be punished for it,” he said when she made no move. “Do not displease me further.”

  The promise of punishment and the threat of more were enough.

  Cringing inwardly, Julia slid a hand between her legs and pushed her fingers into herself. He sex felt mu
ch more responsive than she would have wished.

  “Keep your thighs spread,” Jahngir barked as they automatically tightened on her hand.

  Soon, Julia was breathing hard and could feel the trickle of perspiration over her skin as the stimulating quivers grew stronger and faster. Her big breasts jiggled from the back and forth motions of her arm, and she could not stop her hips rocking in rhythm with her thrusting fingers as she rubbed ever more eagerly.

  It was wonderful and horrible too when every move she made and every gasp and whimper she gave were under the Pathan’s stern scrutiny.

  Each time she tried to lower her eyes from his, he tersely ordered her to look at him and she was too afraid to disobey. She was close to climaxing again when he made her stop, and he knew it as surely as she did.

  Jahngir got to his feet and, still naked, stood very close to her. “So, I forced you to touch yourself, but was it I who made you do it with such enthusiasm?” His hand on her head made Julia start as he tilted he face up. “Are you ready to pleasure me in every way I instruct you now?

  Breathless, she nodded.

  “And so you will, but not until I impress upon you that you will obey me instantly. I have made allowances for your English ways, girl, but there is no more time for that. You will learn what you must and you will learn it quickly, do you hear?”

  “Y… yes, Master.” Again Julia could not drag her eyes from his uncompromising stare.

  “Come then.” Ignoring his scattered clothes, he strode bare-skinned out of the bathhouse.

  She rose quickly and hurried after him towards the zenana.

  *

  “Ooh, what are you doing to me?” Kate cried. She squirmed against the horribly confining leather straps on her body and felt the chafe of the thick leather collar Ross had buckled around her neck. It was chained to a wooden rail behind her. Her arms too were bound, straps at wrists and elbows holding them in a reversed praying position at her back and attached to the same rail as her neck. Cutting into her flesh above her breasts was another strap that ran under her armpits and secured her tightly to a second rail behind her.

  “I’m going to show you what Jefferson would have done if it had been him you had threatened to shoot,” Ross said as he finished buckling a strap around her left thigh. He had placed it very high, as he had the one on her right, with both of them biting into her skin and pulling apart more than just her legs.

  “Ooh, that’s awfully tight,” Kate groaned.

  “It needs to be. We don’t want you jerking around and injuring yourself.”

  Her belly flipped at the implication in his words. “Oh, don’t hurt me. I’m sorry. Really I am.”

  “You’re sorry now,” Ross said. “You weren’t when you pointed that pistol at me. There’s a lesson for you, little miss. Never aim a gun at a man unless you intend to use it, especially if that man is me.”

  “How do you know I wouldn’t have?” Kate asked, a flash of temper rising through her fear.

  His forbidding expression vanished in a grin. “I know. I reckon you would shoot if your life was threatened. You’re a brave little thing, after all. But even if the gun had been loaded, you wouldn’t have fired.”

  Frightened, resentful and very uncomfortable though she was, Kate somehow still managed to be pleased that he thought she was brave. He was right too. She had never intended to shoot him. The sight of his whip in his hand made her catch her breath as he reached to two brass handles on the frightening device to which he had bound her. It was made of wood, a rectangular frame within a frame, one resting solidly on the floor, the other fixed to it by a large brass pivot at either side. The ex-soldier turned the handles beside each pivot, and Kate’s heart leapt when the inner frame swung back and forth as it was unlocked from the outer one.

  Ross tilted it and she gave a startled cry as her body angled forwards. Her feet rested on the lower bar of the inner frame, strapped at ankles and knees as tightly as they were at her thighs. Kate felt some of her weight transfer from her legs to the strap above her breasts and a wooden bar that crossed the frame at her belly, in line with her hips. The collar around her neck pressed against her throat and she had to force her head back, increasing the strain on her pinioned arms and shoulders. It worsened as Ross tilted the frame further. He moved a hinged bar on it across her chest, two lengths of wood joined at each end by a big brass bolt topped by a large wing nut. They locked in place above and below her hanging breasts, and she flinched as his hands firmly pulled the twin rounds between the two bars.

  “Oh, no” Kate whimpered when he began tightening the wing nuts, squeezing her flesh tightly between the narrowing space separating the wooden lengths until she hissed in pain. Ross tilted the frame upright, easing the pressure on her neck and belly, and she was able to look down as he locked it in place with the handles.

  “No, please.” The bars were tight against her chest, the flesh of her breasts bulging grotesquely between them and their pale skin already mottled pink and beginning to darken. They hurt, and they looked horribly, frighteningly vulnerable. Their points had already become swollen and puffy.

  “You’ve been a very naughty girl,” Ross said, giving one of them a tug.

  “Ooh! Yes, Sir,” Kate whined.

  “It’s ‘Mister Ross, Sir’ when I’m punishing you. Remember?”

  “Yes, Mister Ross, Sir,” Kate answered quickly.

  “Aye, you’ve disappointed me, little miss. I told you there isn’t much time. Just enough for you to learn the basics, really. But I thought you had listened to reason and all the time your head was still full of silly ideas about escaping.” He let the short tail of his whip slide over his left palm and swing free. “You know there’s no chance of that now, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Mister Ross, Sir.” Racing though it was, Kate’s heart felt leaden with despair. She braced herself for the first stroke and her breath escaped in a rush as she heard the door to the mirrored room behind her open and his footsteps retreating. Belly fluttering wildly, she waited.

  Ross reappeared. “I said your backside needs widening a bit.

  We’ll start on that at the same time.” Dangling from one hand by three lengths of cord was a conical piece of ivory about six inches long. From a rounded tip no more than a quarter-inch across it widened gradually to at least two inches at its base. Attached at the broader end was a metal ring to which the three cords were tied. Kate gulped. The thing was shiny with oil, and from what he had said she had no doubt about where he intended to put it.

  “No, you can’t. You mustn’t,” she said desperately. “Oh, please Mister Ross, Sir!” She jerked as his whip stung her left buttock.

  “Nothing you say is going to change what happens, little miss, so you may as well save your breath. If you hadn’t been so impulsive you wouldn’t have ended up like this. But you just couldn’t resist grabbing the gun, could you, even though you had no idea what you would do next? If it had been loaded and if I had followed your orders, do you really think you would even have got across the compound, let alone anywhere near Peshawar?”

  Kate did not reply. She knew she had acted without thinking. It was far from the first time. The same impulsiveness had made her attach herself uninvited to Mrs. Winter and Julia, and coupled with her yearning for adventure had brought her to the extremely uncomfortable and frightening position she found herself in at that moment. She squirmed as Ross’s arms encircling her caused a painful tug on her trapped and squeezed breasts.

  “Best keep as still as you can,” he warned as he fastened a thin belt around her waist and moved behind her. She felt his fingers touch her skin at the back of the belt then slide to the rounds of her bottom cheeks and draw them apart. Reflexively, the little muscle they no longer concealed tightened. “You’d better relax if you don’t want it to hurt,” he said.

  Though she was expecting it, Kate still could not help lunging forwards when she felt the pressure of the tip of the ivory cone. The fingers spreading her cle
ft let go and a second later tickled her between the legs. Abruptly, they thrust inwards.

  “Oh! Ooh!” Impossible though it was in her tight bondage, she still tried to wriggle as Ross mercilessly teased her. Quivering she felt the oiled ivory push hard against her. Her tight little muscle yielded abruptly and her breath escaped in a whoosh as the cone slid inside.

  “Ooh, ooh, no!” Kate wailed as the broad end stretched her rear opening and held it that way.

  Ross stopped rubbing her pussy, moved in front of her, pulled the two remaining cords attached to the unusual dildo up in front and tied them to two iron rings on the front of her waist belt. The third was already fixed to the back, the three together drawn tight and holding the ivory so it would neither slide all the way inside her nor allow her to force it out. That knowledge did not prevent her knot from trying to clench and clamping hard around the cone. A trembling tickle ran through her there, and, alarmingly, another in front. A heartbeat later the sharp slap of leather on bare skin ended in a scorching streak of pain to her bulging left breast, followed immediately by another across the right one. The aching that being crushed between the wooden bars was causing was joined by a fiery stinging.

  “Ow! Ooh, that’s awful!” Kate cried. “Ooh, it hurts so much!”

  Ross paused and pointed to the rack of canes and switches on the wall nearby. “That’s what Jefferson would have used on you. Any one of them would hurt a damn sight more than my whip. You should be grateful it’s me punishing you and not him.”

  Resentful and in pain, Kate could still be glad it was not Jefferson dealing her the blows. The ones Ross gave her were bad enough. The whip seemed to come at her from all directions at once, smacking onto her helpless teats, making them bounce and buzz with burning pain. The old soldier never missed. Every sharp, fierce stroke landed squarely on the distended flesh nipped between the wooden bars, sometimes just the split tip of the leather, sometimes its full length. Several times it scored her tender points, making Kate cry more loudly and squirm in her straps at the ferocity of its bite. Yet, even as her body ached in its confinement and the torment made her tears flow, she knew Ross could have hit a lot harder if he had chosen to.