Kate and Julia: Abducted in India (13 page)

Eyes Julia was not even aware she had closed snapped open as she recognised the fluttering feeling teasing her pussy. How could she possibly be experiencing any such thing when she was a prisoner and in imminent danger of becoming a slave? She must distract herself from her shameful excitement.

“What does
murgah
mean?” she asked breathlessly.

“It means bird,” Jahngir Khan’s voice answered from somewhere behind the native girl. Her body had hidden his approach. His handsome, bearded face suddenly loomed above Julia. “You have fluttered like a trapped dove since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

She leapt up and fled to the rear wall of the bathhouse, pressing her back to its cool stones and covering her breasts and sex with her hands.

Jahngir remained by the marble bench, looking very displeased.

“Come here,” he barked. “Come here now.”

Looking desperately around for a means of escape that was not there, Julia did not move.

“Come, there is nowhere you can run,” the Pathan said more gently.

He was right. She stared at him, certain that he wore nothing under his robe of dark blue silk. Covering herself as best she could, she walked back to the table.

“I have told you there is no place for your English modesty in the
zenana
, little
murgah
,” he said and pulled Afia closer. “Watch.”

His hand closed over one of the girl’s out-thrust breasts, exploring the firm flesh, first pinching the pale brown of its nipple, then rubbing it with the ball of his thumb. Afia stood perfectly still, her arms at her sides and a smile on her lovely face. Very quickly her nipple hardened under the attention Jahngir was giving it. He did the same to her other breast until the point at its peak was also stiffly erect, then abruptly turned the native girl around. She bent forward and rested her hands on one of the marble tabletops. The pressure of his hand spread her thighs, exposing the dark slit bisecting the swelling crescents of her outer pussy-lips and the crinkled, pinky-brown edges of the inner ones peeping from between them.

Horribly embarrassed for Afia as well as herself, Julia dared not provoke the man further by looking away as he closed his hands over the taut rounds of the girl’s bottom, sank his fingers deep into their flesh and drew them apart. Afia gave a shiver, and to Julia’s complete surprise the little brown knot of the native girl’s anus seemed to wink at her.

Jahngir’s touch slid lower until he could reach a forefinger to the pout of her sex.

Julia caught her breath. The Pathan separated Afia’s outer-labia, revealing the bright pink interior of her pussy, a startling contrast to the brown-skinned lips on either side. Why did Afia not object? Why did she simply stand there, pushing out her wonderfully curved rear and allow him to degrade her? The answer came with a gut-wrenching jolt of fear. Because she was a slave.

“Oh, no!” Julia cried. Jahngir had pushed his right middle finger into poor Afia’s sex. The girl gave a soft hiss and wiggled her bottom.

Julia’s belly flipped and her sex went tight. This was awful, she thought, her breathing fast and shallow as she watched wide-eyed while Jahngir slid a second finger into Afia’s pussy. The girl’s hips jerked and she thrust them rearward, moaning as she took the man’s big digits to the knuckle. She was not humiliated or ashamed, Julia realized. She was enjoying it! Her own pussy quivered.

Julia tore her eyes away from the sight of the Pathan’s penetrating fingers and the gleaming moisture oozing from Afia’s sex as the native girl gasped and groaned and pushed herself onto them. Jahngir pulled them free eventually, and a pat to her perfect bottom brought her upright.

She turned and faced Julia. Her eyes were bright and there was a look of mixed desire and disappointment on her exotic features.

The Pathan was smiling as he looked directly into Julia’s staring eyes. “Now it’s your turn.”

“No, you can’t!” Julia croaked hoarsely. Her heart leapt. She tried to back away and felt the marble edge of the table press into the small of her back at the same moment Jahngir’s hands closed over the full, tapering mounds of her breasts. She shuddered.

“Once more you flutter, little
murgah
. Always it seems you wish to run away, whether it is pain or pleasure that is offered to you.”

Heart pounding and head spinning, Julia felt her nipples grow harder beneath the pressure of his warm palms and a frightening tingling tickling through her sex. She willed both sensations to stop. They ignored her. Her nose wrinkled at the ripe scent of Afia’s juices that clung to the fingers gently kneading her flesh.

“Please,” she begged breathlessly as his right hand smoothed over the curve of her belly and stroked her freshly depilated love-mound. The smile he gave her held all its usual warmth but she knew it had to be false. She had experienced his barbarian cruelty only the night before. A broad fingertip slid over the soft folds of her hood and a tickle ran though it.

“Nooo,” Julia wailed.

“Softly, my nervous dove.” He stroked her, gently rubbing her clitoral hood and the moistening slit below it just as he had done the night before. Jaw clenched, breathing hard through her nostrils, Julia had no choice but to endure it. She looked anxiously into his handsome face and at the dark hair curling on his broad chest above the open neck of his robe. He was strong, she thought, and knew herself to be weak. He was confident and commanding. She was timid and shy. Her pussy quivered and glowed.

Jahngir turned her suddenly, a hand between her shoulder blades bending her until she had to put her hands onto the marble tabletop to keep from falling. Even as her startled cry escaped her lips Julia felt fingers much longer and thicker than her own push her damply warm labia aside and sink deep into her pussy. A tingling thrill rippled through the sensitive walls of her sheath, strengthening with every movement of the Pathan’s big digits.

“Ooh! Ooh!” Julia could not stop her cries or the wriggling of her hips in response to the teasing touch. Heat flowed inside her even as fear twisted her belly and disbelief flooded her whirling brain.

“Take her wrists, Afia,” she heard Jahngir say above the sound of her pounding heart and suddenly she was looking across the table at the girl as Afia’s hands pressed hers to its marble surface. The native girl’s eyes were still bright and heavy-lidded with desire. With an absolute certainty that made her burn with shame, Julia knew her own were exactly the same. She could not be blamed, she told herself. The hands that held her in place, the Pathan’s dominating strength gave her no alternative but to surrender. But she did not have to submit so eagerly, a voice accused inside her head.

Her hips were straining against his hand, heightening the wonderful friction of his fingers in her pussy. Her nipples were so hard they ached.

Even the heaviness of her breasts swaying and swinging to the rhythm of her rearward thrusts was increasing her passion. She felt Jahngir slide the hand that was not creating the marvellous sensations in her sex around the curve of her hip to the trembling nub that had swelled amid the folds of her hood. He found the little point and rubbed hard.

Julia’s pussy wriggled frantically and clamped around the Pathan’s fingers. Her breath escaped in a loud whoosh, and as she fought to suck in another her whole belly writhed with the wild spasms of her orgasm.

At once a rippling rush of utter delight shivered through her upright clitoris. Her spine arched and her head went back, her head spinning until she was sure she was going to faint from the sheer power of the climax racking her body. Afia’s hands tightened on hers and at the same time another deep thrust of Jahngir’s fingers into her roiling sheath made her explode into a second incredible orgasm.

Julia’s knees gave way as lights flashed behind her eyelids. She felt herself falling, than caught in a strong embrace with her head resting on a muscular shoulder and – her heart missed a beat – something long, thick and very, very stiff was pressing against her bare stomach. She had not strength to even try to pull away.

“Good, you have pleased me, little bird.” Jahngir’s voice seemed distant through the sound of her panting and the sparkling pleasure still spinning Julia’s head. “Now I know your blood is hot and your passions easily aroused. That is as it should be.”

At last she found strength to stand unaided. The Pathan let her go and she heaved a sigh of relief as the pressure of her hard-nippled breasts on his chest and his big cock against her belly vanished. Horribly ashamed of herself Julia hung her head.

“Remain here, Afia,” Jahngir said. “I will return shortly.” Fingers wet and shiny with her own juices closed around Julia’s wrist and he pulled her after him towards the open front of the bathhouse.

“My great-grandfather built this house and my grandfather these baths. He was a strict disciplinarian.” Jahngir pointed to a bronze bar about two feet long set low down on brackets in the stone floor between the pillars supporting the roof, and then at a bronze ring fixed to the lintel above. “He used to tie any slave girl who displeased him there.” He lifted Julia’s head with a finger under her chin. “He would whip a girl until she bled for the smallest offence, and make his other slaves look on.”

Julia caught her breath.

“My grandfather was not an enlightened man. I do not follow his example but I
will
have discipline in my
zenana
and obedience from every girl it contains, however brief her stay may be.”

She winced at the reminder of the fate awaiting her.

“And I expect to be addressed respectfully by a slave girl,” Jahngir continued sternly. “You cannot call me lord as the other girls do, so you will call me Master when you speak to me. You understand?”

“I…. Yes, Master,” Julia said with a wriggle of fear in her belly.

“Come along.” Keeping his grip on her wrist, he led her past the girls exercising naked on the grass and up the stairs to the balcony of the
zenana
. It was divided from the room by wooden shutters instead of a wall. They opened vertically, supported on poles and providing shade over the balcony during the day.

“Stay,” the Pathan ordered, as if Julia was a puppy and not a person. He went indoors and returned seconds later holding a slender switch.

“Oh, please don’t beat me!” she cried, clutching both hands before her breasts.

“Be silent,” he snapped. “I have no intention of switching you if you behave yourself. But I do intend to punish you.”

“Oh, why? I thought you said I had pleased you.” The memory of how made her throat tighten.

“So you have, but only after you displeased me,” Jahngir said.

“You ran from me and tried to hide your nakedness. I told you last night that such things are unacceptable. It seems you didn’t believe me.” He laid the switch down. “Kneel beside it. If I find you have moved I’ll use it on your backside when I return.”

Horrified by the thought of the slim rod scoring her tender flesh, Julia knelt and was very careful to keep still until he reappeared carrying an oddly-shaped stool, some silken cords and a saucer with a piece of something of a yellowish-brown colour on it. He placed the stool near the rail at the edge of the balcony.

“Up. Lay your belly over that.”

Julia rose, one hand lifting to her trembling lower lip as she eyed the leather-covered, saddle-shaped seat of the stool. Its legs were long and set at a wide angle so that they stretched out in front and behind.

“Oh, don’t tie me,” she begged, and then remembered his order and added, “Master.”

The Pathan looked at her down his long nose. “Obey.”

Sobbing, she laid her churning stomach over the leather saddle and let him tie her trembling limbs to the stool’s outstretched legs. With her bottom raised high and her head hanging down she could see very little.

Her position and the tightness of the bonds biting into wrists and ankles made her feel frighteningly vulnerable.

“Please, Master,” she panted and jerked against the cords as one of his hands stretched her buttocks apart. Pressure on her sphincter made it clench reflexively but by then it was too late. Jahngir had already pushed something into her anus and followed it with a finger that forced whatever it was deeper still.

“Oh, no!” Julia cried in despairing humiliation as the finger withdrew, and then in sudden alarm, “Oh, no, it’s burning me! Please take it out. Take it out!”

“It’s ginger root,” the Pathan said. “It is meant to burn.” He knelt and lifted her head until she was looking into his face. “It won’t do any permanent harm, little
murgah
, but it should concentrate your mind on what I told you. I’ll let you have an hour or so to think about it.”

“An hour,” Julia cried in horror. “Oh, no, you can’t! Please, it’s like fire.”

Jahngir stood up. “Be glad I did not use a chilli instead.”

Julia wailed.

“And don’t try to expel it,” he added. “You’ll find it only makes things more unpleasant, and I may decide to switch you if you do.”

“Please,” Julia begged desperately but his footsteps had already faded. She looked to her left and saw him through the balcony’s railing, striding past the naked slave girls in the garden towards the bathhouse, where Afia waited. She could see Helai too, laughing and chattering along with the others in their alien tongue. Julia realized the girl’s punishment on the previous night must have been very similar to what she was going through now. It was unbearable. Her anus was stinging fiercely as the burning, astringent juices seeped from the ginger and flowed over her sensitive membranes in hot, fiery torment.

Julia squirmed and sweated, tugging at her bonds, gasping and whining as the awful fire spread through her rectum. In spite of Jahngir’s threat to beat her she could not help but try to force the horrid root from her burning bowels, and she discovered he had spoken the truth. The expansions and contractions of her anus not only squeezed more juice from the ginger but also made some overflow and trickle down to her pussy-lips. They too began to sting and burn, and intensified her suffering. She had made things worse.