Of Pain and Delight (15 page)

Suddenly Calema squealed as her orgasm tore through her body. She gripped Zia’s head and ground her crotch against her face. Zia’s head bobbed up and down rapidly again as she devoured the cream that Sahria knew would be filling her mouth.

Zia moved her head back, nipping Calema’s outer lips between her teeth, and Calema shuddered as a second wave of release hit her. Zia didn’t stop her oral ministrations for a moment, and it was obvious to those witnessing her subjugation that for all her earlier protestations she was an expert in the art.

Calema finally pushed her away and fell back to collapse onto a nearby couch, and the girls began to chatter again excitedly. Sahria stood up quickly and clapped her hands, and the room fell into silence once more.

‘May I rise, mistress?’ Zia asked presently.

‘You may,’ replied Sahria, enjoying the proud girl’s apparent capitulation. The girl pulled herself stiffly to her feet and stood before her, head bowed. Her face shone with Calema’s juices, glistening in the sunlight. ‘Join the others,’ said Sahria quietly.

Zia rejoined the line, and Sahria studied her carefully; somehow she no longer bore the gait of a princess.

‘You are to tell me your names and detail your sexual experience.’ Sahria was standing once more in front of the line of timid girls, addressing them like a tutor would instruct her class. ‘You begin, Zia. We already know your name, of course.’

Zia stepped forward. ‘I am eighteen years of age and no man has ever taken me.’ The group gasped in astonishment.

‘I find that difficult to believe, Zia,’ said Sahria.

‘It is true, mistress. I am… I
was
a princess. My father, the king, would have slain any man who dared to touch me.’

Sahria was delighted; a virgin of such infinite beauty would surely be a prize the prince would be eternally grateful for. ‘Have you never yearned for the touch a man?’ she asked, and Zia hung her head in embarrassment. ‘Speak,’ said Sahria, in a softer tone. She had no wish to humiliate the girl further, but her curiosity burned.

The girl nodded. ‘The men in my country rarely wore clothing. On the rare occasions that my father was absent the young men of the court would sport themselves deliberately in my sight, teasing me unmercifully. One in particular tempted me. He was handsome, strong and muscular, and possessed the loveliest weapon imaginable. It hung almost to his knee and I had many long nights of painful frustration as I tried to picture it in its full magnificence. But it was not to be.’

‘How do you come to be here? If you are a princess, how is it that you were delivered like a slave by a band of common merchants?’

‘Soldiers of the Egyptian Pharaoh attacked my home. I escaped with some of my close consorts, but our caravan was captured by the merchants.’

Sahria suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. ‘What became of your father?’ she asked carefully. Zia hung her head and she noticed a tear slip down her sable cheek, and knew the answer. She moved to stand before the next girl, anxious to lighten the mood of the proceedings. The girl couldn’t have been more different in appearance or demeanour.

‘What is your name?’ she asked, her voice resuming an authoritarian tone.

‘I am Aisha,’ the girl said quietly.

‘You are Aisha,
mistress
,’ commanded Sahria.

‘I am Aisha, mistress,’ the pretty girl corrected in a hushed tone, her large eyes widening in fearful resignation.

Sahria walked slowly around the trembling figure, stroked her shoulders with the whip, and then ran the tip of the handle down to the hem of her short smock and hooked it under the delicate material, raising it slightly.

‘Remove it,’ she ordered. The girl quickly pulled the smock over her head and then stood naked before the assembled group, her head bowed in shame. She had a waif-like body with apple-firm breasts, narrow waist and boyish hips. Her skin was as white as alabaster, although the cheeks of her face were flushed with embarrassment. Her hair was long and blonde with barely a curl in the smooth tresses, which cascaded and fell about her slim shoulders, framing the elfin features of her cute face.

Her only similarity with the statuesque Zia was her full, pouting lips, which seemed to be permanently pursed for a long and passionate kiss. ‘Look at me,’ said Sahria, as she raised the girl’s face by lifting her chin with her whip handle. Aisha looked up nervously. Her eyes were wide and clear blue and shone with virginal innocence. ‘Tell us about yourself.’

The girl glanced around at the others, then looked at Zia, who nodded in encouragement. ‘As I said, mistress, my name is Aisha,’ she said. ‘I come from the north, where the weather is cold and the countryside is lush and beautiful. I am seventeen years of age. I was captured by a band of rogue fishermen one day whilst walking along the beach near my home, and sold as a slave. My new master tired of me and I was sold again to the merchants who brought me here.’

‘Why did your master tire of you?’ asked Calema. Aisha looked at the rubber-clad figure sitting on the couch.

‘In truth, it was his wife who wanted rid of me,’ she answered. ‘She was jealous.’

‘Did you have sex with your master?’ asked Sahria.

The girl nodded. ‘Yes, mistress, many times.’

‘And the wife found out?’

‘She was usually there. I… I had sex with her, too.’

Calema rose and sidled beside her, resting a hand on her narrow shoulder. ‘Did you enjoy sex with your mistress?’ she asked excitedly, much to Sahria’s amusement.

‘I – I enjoy it with either sex,’ Aisha admitted, blushing shamefully. ‘I always have.’

Calema smiled and smoothed gloved hand over the girl’s lithe form until she cupped her down-covered pussy, and Aisha shuddered with pleasure and closed her eyes.

‘Calema, leave her,’ said Sahria, and her friend reluctantly moved away from the girl and sat back on the couch, a petulant expression on her face. ‘So, if you were having sex with both your master and your mistress, why did she become jealous?’

‘Each week the master would invite some of his male friends to join us. They would make love to both his wife and to me, but it soon became obvious that they all preferred me.’

‘Then you must have had sex with a great number of men.’

Aisha nodded. ‘I love it, mistress,’ she said in a voice that rang with inappropriate innocence.

‘You will be a favourite of the prince, of that I am sure.’

‘I hope so, mistress,’ replied Aisha, and then her expression suddenly took on a look of concern. ‘There will be others, won’t there, mistress? It won’t just be the prince?’

Sahria laughed and ran her fingers through the lustrous tresses of the girl’s hair. ‘Don’t worry, my sweet little nymphet. There will be many a fine prick straining to satisfy your hunger. But first, like the others, you must learn subservience.’ She crouched down and gazed at Aisha’s pouting sex lips, finding it hard to imagine that such a dainty hole could accommodate the thick erection of a rampant male. Aisha moved her hips forward in invitation, as if expecting similar treatment to that which Zia had enjoyed with Calema. Sahria was tempted, but merely kissed the downy hair lightly, and then stood up. ‘Step back in line,’ she said, before moving to stand before the next in line.

She now faced a girl of apparently oriental descent. Sahria signalled with her whip and the girl removed her smock. Her breasts were full and her stomach flat, curving sensuously to her bushy groin. Her olive skin glowed in the sunlight. ‘Your name?’ she demanded, but the girl said nothing. ‘What is your name?’ repeated Sahria. ‘Speak!’

The girl’s narrow eyes widened in terror but she remained silent, so Sahria raised the whip and the girl cowered fearfully. ‘I said speak!’ Sahria roared.

‘Mistress…’ Aisha interrupted cautiously.

‘Silence!’ snapped Sahria, glaring at the girl. ‘Speak your name or your punishment will be most severe!’ But the girl shook her head. Furious, Sahria brought the whip down and lashed her across her buttocks. She gasped with pain but still said nothing.

‘Mistress, please,’ said Aisha, her voice trembling, ‘she cannot.’

Sahria lowered the whip. ‘What do you mean?’

Aisha rested her hand on the sobbing girl’s shoulder. ‘Mistress, she can hear what you say, but she cannot speak. She is mute.’

Sahria stepped back guiltily. The girl whimpered quietly as tears ran down her lovely face. Sahria felt she should apologise, but then considered that to do so might be taken as a sign of weakness. After a few awkward moments she moved forward, cupped the girl’s face, and kissed her passionately, full on the mouth. The girl stiffened with shock, but quickly relaxed and responded by parting her lips slightly to allow Sahria’s tongue to slip between them. The embrace lasted a good few moments, and then Sahria stepped back, and the girl smiled.

‘Does anyone here know her name?’ she asked of the group, but they shook their heads. She looked into the girl’s eyes, still wet with tears. ‘Can you write your name?’ she said softly. The girl nodded, so Calema searched and found a crayon and some parchment, which she handed to Sahria. She gave them to the girl and she wrote quickly with trembling hands, and then gave the paper back.

‘Su-Lee,’ said Sahria, ‘a lovely name.’ The girl smiled and motioned that she wished to write something else. Sahria handed the parchment back and she scrawled a few words before shyly holding the paper out in front of her. Sahria read the words with astonishment. Under her name, Su-Lee had written,
Beat me again
, in clear but shaky handwriting.

Sahria shook her head. ‘I cannot,’ she said, ‘you have not done anything to deserve further punishment.’

Su-Lee’s response was to turn and bend with her ankles together, her legs straight and her hands resting on the floor. Sahria looked at her upturned bottom, marked by a single red welt, and her mind raced. This was an open act of defiance that must not go unpunished, but the girl actually wanted to be lashed, and the other girls stood in silent expectation.

‘You will not be beaten simply because you wish it,’ Sahria decreed at last. ‘
I
will decide when the lash is to be used. You will not demand it of me.’ She heard Su-Lee sigh with disappointment as she began to rise, and for some reason this infuriated her, so without warning she whipped her with incredible force across her bottom. Every girl in the group gasped with shock and Su-Lee fell forward onto her hands and knees.

Sahria smiled cruelly. ‘As I said,
I
will decide.’ She looked at Calema, who nodded in approval.

The next girl stepped forward and removed her smock without being asked to do so. She had similar colouring and features to Zia, but was shorter in height.

‘I am called Jo-Jo,’ she said proudly.

‘Did I ask you to speak?’ said Sahria, with mock anger, and the girl looked crestfallen as Sahria turned to her friend. ‘Calema, thrash this one for her impertinence.’

Calema bowed and took the whip from Sahria.

‘Turn and bend forward,’ Sahria commanded Jo-Jo. The frightened girl immediately did as ordered, and Sahria admired the globes of her buttocks as Calema prepared to administer the punishment. Then Sahria turned to face the remainder of the group of girls.

‘Know this, my pretty waifs,’ she began. ‘You will not speak unless ordered, and you will obey instructions without question. Otherwise, you will feel the kiss of the lash, or,’ she looked at Su-Lee, ‘something more appropriate.

‘Now, administer the punishment,’ she said vehemently.

Calema raised her arm high and brought the whip down fiercely onto the girl’s plump bottom. Her buttocks quivered and she yelped. A second stroke cut her across her bottom, then a third and a fourth. The welts appeared quickly. Calema had certainly developed considerable expertise in the art of flagellation.

‘Enough,’ Sahria ordered, and Calema immediately handed her the whip and resumed her place on the couch. The sobbing girl remained in her bent position. She had learned her lesson well.

‘Stand,’ Sahria said, and the girl obeyed, her tearful eyes shining with excitement, and the lush hairs between her legs glistening with obvious dampness. ‘Now, Jo-Jo,’ said Sahria in a gentler tone, ‘tell us about yourself.’

Jo-Jo took a deep breath, and then began. ‘I am seventeen and I have had sex with seventeen men,’ she said proudly, although her voice was trembling slightly.

‘Have you ever had sex with a woman?’ asked Calema.

‘No. In that respect I am still a virgin.’

‘You will not be before this day is out,’ teased Calema.

‘When are we going to meet some men?’ asked Aisha excitedly, attracting a glare from Sahria. ‘Sorry, mistress,’ the blonde added hastily, realising her sin and bowing fearfully.

Sahria chose to ignore her outburst and moved to stand before the last two girls. They were as alike as jewels in a royal crown, and of Persian descent. ‘Ah,’ she said, ‘twin sisters. The prince will like that, I am sure. Remove your clothing so we may see if you are alike in every way.’

The two girls did as ordered until they stood as naked as the others. They were trim and shapely, and Sahria noticed immediately that they both had their nipples pierced with small gold rings. ‘What are your names?’ she asked.