Miss Julia Denton lunged forward with a shriek, and babbled, “Eeoww, ohh please don’t sir! I will tell you, oh my God,please let go of my breasts, you have hurt me there so horribly, I’m going to faint! But only stop!
“Speak, then, and be quick about it,” I demanded as I released the tension of my fingers.
“Ohh ahh-oh my God-please-oh, it is horrible of you to make me say all this-oh no, don’t pinch them again-I will-only have mercy-please put-put your th-thing into my sp-spot-and-and h-have me-oohhh, I beg you to be quick and end my suffering, sir!” she at last exhaled.
I would really be an unfeeling brute to pursue this line of questioning, I felt. I was sure that Miss Julia Denton had been chastely upreared and that the words she had used were daring enough, even at so critical a time as this when the alteration of her sweet girlhood stood at the crossroads of her destiny.
“Molly, if you will notice that little windlass over by the wall, do you go to it now and turn the lever directly to the left,” I instructed.
My half-naked voluptuous brunette accomplice eagerly nodded and ran over to the wall, her juicy round creamy titties jouncing in the most mouth-watering fashion. I confess that I felt at that moment like a pasha who has a veritable harem to wait upon him and cannot quite make up his mind upon impulse. But at the same time the joyous reminder leaped into my brain that I should have my beloved Alice as my consort soon enough, and with her sweet, obliging and voluptuously acquiescent Fanny as well as sister-in-law Marion and her red-haired maid Kay, to say nothing of Connie Blunt. Oh, that would be harem enough for the most virile and sanguine of men in the future, have no doubt about it!
I thought, too, of the game that Alexander the Great used to play with his concubines, and which he wittily named “Scheherazade.” It was an enchantingly imaginative sport, but it would require great fortitude as well as stamina on the part of the male. The ingredients were simplicity itself. A huge wide bed, a conquering overlord (myself, naturally!) and from five to a dozen seductive maidens, all either naked or arrayed in varying degrees of deshabille, such as these two charming captives. Let one be in just hose and pumps, like Miss Julia Denton at the moment. Still another, like Miss Molly Bashe, in drawers and hose and pumps. Another might be naked, except for furry mules about her dainty feet and perhaps silver anklets, whilst a fourth should come to me clad only in her shift and the thinnest possible pair of knickers under them and the sheerest, most clinging hose obtainable. And so on and on, ad infinitum.
And then I, the overlord, the pasha, the erotic emir, the sensual sultan should lie there with my head pillowed on my arms, master of all I surveyed, whilst these bringers of sweet delights, the harbingers of heavenly pastimes, should ply my naked body with caresses and ultimately mount me one by one and seek to draw forth my vital juices. And she who should be the winner in this tourney of Tantalus should receive a precious gift, while the others should all receive a smart birching to teach them to be more adept and clingingly amours the next time I, their lord and master, should summon them to my bower.
And if that was not a delightful fantasy, another even more esoteric and complex leaped into my febrile brain. Each member of my harem should be talented for one particular adeptness or charm. One girl should be, for instance, my calf-mistress, because of all those in my harem she possessed the most satiny, deliciously contoured, ripplingly muscled calves of all. Another should be my thigh-mistress; and still another my hand-mistress, because her hand was softest of all, the most gifted and talented in caressing and fondling my manhood to do valorous deeds. Still another should be my tittie-mistress, endowed with such amorous proclivities that she could kneel before me and cup those lovely gourds of satiny flesh against my cock and, moving back and forth over me, create the illusion that the satiny valley between those loveglobes was a kind of a sheath, a new vaginal chasm for my probing. Or again, she might rub one breast against the shaft and the head and the balls to whet my appetites to new heights of fancy and prowess.
My thigh-mistress should have gloriously versatile limbs the which to clench my prick with between their satiny columns or to rub against my cock to waken it to priapic performance; or still again, to wind around me to hold me to her so that my hands might fondle their backs and taste the warm, vibrant satin of their flexing columns.
I should naturally appoint a mouth-mistress, she whose soft, rosy lips could bite and nibble, suck and breathe all over me, but best of all, could absorb the head of my rutting ramrod deep into the sweet-nectared cavern and there draw forth my venom if it was this tribute to Venus which impelled me at the time.
There would even be a toe-mistress, who could tickle and fondle my prick and balls and with the most delicate of touches send waves of lust shivering through my entire body, no matter where her soft little toes glided. And of course a bottom-mistress who should be many things to me, from proffering the target for a birch or cane or my eager hand, to offering those satiny globes for the advent of my mighty scepter into the dainty little crevice between the divine rotundities.
Such would be the life of a pasha, and such, I felt, might well be my own life once married to sweet Alice and in possession of so select and praiseworthy a harem as I might be able to count on.
But now Molly Bashe had moved the lever as bidden, and the pulley which held up the trapeze bar which pinioned Miss Julia Denton’s outstretched leg moved backwards and drew that lovely leg upwards to create a dancer’s split. I saw thus before me the upturned base of one of the most delicious bottoms in all the world, a groove between it exaggeratedly yawned open and the sweetly pouting pink lips of her virgin cunt stretched and gaping and visible through the dark-brown clusters of pussy-curls which decorated Miss Julia’s Venus. Her leg was held up almost vertically now, and the stretch on her muscles must have been extremely excruciating, for she wailed and sobbed and cried and begged me to let her leg down and she would do whatever I wished if only I would grant her this mercy. But her time had run out and so had all my self-control, I fear.
“Prepare yourself, Miss Denton,” I rasped as I advanced to her and put my hands on her smooth lower back, my prick prodding her lower abdomen and engaging in a sweet anticipatory duel with the curly silken fronds that already began to flourish just above her maiden quim. “I am now going to accept your offer and, as you so quaintly put it, put my thing into your spot. Try to hold very still at the outset, so that I do not miss the target. I wish your first experience-I believe it is that-to be entirely satisfactory so that after I have finished with you, Miss Denton, you will have no foundation on which to base the charge that I did not completely satisfy your humble request to fuck you.”
Again she gasped aloud and twisted her face away from mine, her face twisted convulsively, her eyelids fluttering, her nostrils flaring and shrinking in a very upheaval of all her virginal emotions. I had no way of knowing what premarital games her faithless fiance had managed to play with her, but Molly Bashe had told me that she was a virgin, so my work was well defined.
My hands appraisingly roamed her velvety smooth back and shoulders, before lowering to the jouncy globes of her behind. Her skin was moist with the agony-sweat which had pervaded her from the very outset of her ordeal. Little whimpering sobs escaped her now, and she desperately turned her face from side to side, her eyes still closed, as if expecting heaven to send some impossible reprieve at the crucial moment. But of this there was no sign as I at last arched myself and prodded my prick against the yawning cavern of Miss Julia Denton’s virgin cunt.
Feeling the hot pressure of my meatus, the naked brunette uttered a stifled little moan and arched her bottom backwards, and I foresaw that there might be some anguishing moments in store for me before I could effect juncture, unless I utilized the presence of her friend to coerce as well as coax her into a more cooperative attitude. I therefore beckoned to Molly Bashe to come to me and put her ear towards my mouth, whereupon I whispered, “I want you to whip-fuck her lovely bottom, but not too hard, and remember not to cup up between the cheeks, for you might well sting me, and that would cost your own bottom severely.”
Molly cast a look of overwhelmed gratitude at me, stooped to retrieve the birch, and took her station behind the naked, squirming brownette. I took hold of the sides of her hips at the top to steer her as I edged the head of my prick against the lips of her virgin vulva. Again she made that nervous recoiling movement to escape the ultimate disaster, but she was met with a horizontal slash of the rod just across the lower summits of her behind, and she wailed and lunged forward, impelled by the stinging pain of the birch.
I stood my ground, my hands reached up to cup her titties, and I merged my mouth to hers to stifle all her outcries.
I heard the birch swish through the air and land with a dry stinging Thuckk! and again with a wild, sobbing cry that appealed for mercy, Julia Denton arched herself forward to me… and with a growling ejaculation of relief that at last this long game was at an end, I pushed my sword home in her channel, bursting through the hymeneal seal that denied me the true dimensions of her cunt-sheath.
