emanating from deep within my throat.
I immediately recognised this particular expression of humour as similar to that which habitually issued forth from the full lips of the delicious Dora, a saucy and voluptuously popular lady of the night who for many years frequented the inns and taverns of London's Highgate.
Dora was notorious for her brashly extravagant and wantonly revealing ballgowns, worn day and night whatever the weather or the occasion, the necklines of which were cut so incredibly low that her big round breasts were all but completely displayed in their full, naked glory. Her modesty, if any, was preserved by a tiny strip of fabric which barely covered her succulent, and frequently well-sucked, red nipples, the generous contours of which were plainly evident under the lush material of her gown.
Men of all ages and from all backgrounds and walks of life had been known to pay vast sums of money for the voluptuous thrill of burying their faces between Dora's warm, white-fleshed tits and suck at her big, erect nipples. As a result, the fortunate Dora never found herself without a roof over her head or the price of a nip of brandy or a plate of oysters. More than a few gentlemen of means had offered to set her up in furnished rooms in a smart part of town if only she'd save her heavenly breasts and wicked favours for them alone, but Dora was by nature a woman of the street and while she still had her strength and her looks, on the street she'd stay.
The younger street girls would follow her, catcalling and rudely mimicking her swagger as she made her daily round of the taverns, gaming houses and licensed betting establishments, searching for handsome, horny men of discernment who were aching for a fuck with a woman of experience, and were willing to be parted from their hard-earned cash for a rummage in her drawers and a squeeze of her ample bosoms.
But I digress. The cause of my good humour on this particular morning was the delightful memory of a wickedly sexy dream I'd had before waking. I'd dreamt I was a young and beautiful concubine belonging to the king of Ancient Egypt.
I spent my days in the luxurious splendour of the royal harem, partially clothed or completely naked for the most part, bathing in warm scented water, rich with costly oils and essences, dining on wild honey and extravagant sweetmeats, or swapping wild stories and saucy anecdotes with the other women.
The older, more experienced concubines would delight in schooling us younger ones in the gentle, feminine art of pleasing men. In language of a most explicit nature and amid much hilarity, they'd teach us how to seduce, cajole and tempt a man on the one hand, while reducing him to a quivering mass of red-hot lust on the other with skilful displays of stroking, sucking and fucking to please even the most jade of male palates.
From these women we discovered the secret of nocturnal success in the royal sleeping chambers, and how to maintain the king's favour and keep him hungry for more of our bodily delights. We pure, gentle doves were trained to become ravening, sexy she-cats at the switch of a shapely hip or the wink of a glittering, black-lashed eye.
In my dream I was summoned by the king's personal bodyguard who told me that I'd been spotted by His Majesty in the royal gardens and, pleased and excited by what he'd seen, the king had demanded my presence in his private chambers that evening. Weak with anticipation and excitement (the king was potent in the extreme-a huge, well-muscled bear of a man with flashing eyes and a thick, glossy black beard), I set about the task of preparing my mind and body for a liaison with my master.
Aided and abetted by my friends and companions in the royal harem, I bathed, powdered, oiled and scented my smooth young skin, then applied kohl to my lids in the ancient manner, a mere hint of rouge to my already- flushed cheeks and a slick of fragrant beeswax to my full, pouting lips giving them a lusciously pampered sheen. Smiling with pleasure, I eased my long, lithe legs into a minute pair of satin panties, so brief they barely concealed my blonde pubic hair, which gleamed with aromatic oil, and plainly showed the little shadowy cleft at the top of my shapely bottom. I wriggled suggestively, causing my tits to jiggle in a delightful manner, as I adjusted the fit of these outrageously sexy briefs.
Next I insinuated my ample breasts into the matching upper garment, which was just about the smallest brassiere I'd ever seriously considered as bodily adornment. Thickly encrusted with sequin and dangling jewels which glittered and shook as I moved, this exotic creation cupped my peachy breasts, barely covering my big rosy nipples which even now were stiffly erect and unbelievably sensitive in delicious anticipation of my forthcoming sexual encounter with Egypt's all-powerful ruler, who would hopefully, overnight, become permanently enslaved to my charms.
Gazing downwards, thrilled with this unfamiliar image of myself in sexily revealing clothes (I was used to spending my days in innocent nudity, clothed only in my smooth, warm skin), I ran my mobile fingers over the firm, glowing mounds of my captive bosoms, stroking the deep, dark cleavage between them in pure wonderment. Never before had my glorious breasts been thus uplifted and confined-previously they'd bounced naked and free as nature intended.
I then fastened a sheer, floaty garment around my lower hips, stepped into a pair of gold kid mules and brushed my long blonde hair until it glowed and shone as though illuminated from within.
Prepared at last, eyes shining, I was finally ready to receive the king's bodyguard who was to present me to the great man himself. Gazing at me solicitously, his eyes devouring my body lustfully, this servant of the king handed me a small leather pouch containing precious jewels-gifts from his master-and bade me adorn myself with them while he averted his eyes.
Peering inside the bag, amid excited giggles and squeals from my friends, I found rings, bangles and bracelets for my hands, wrists and ankles, a round, smooth opal for my forehead and large, glittering ruby for my flat, tawny belly.
Finally, semi-naked, ravishingly beautiful and burning with desire for sexual fulfilment, I proceeded towards the king's chambers amid low whistles and sharp intakes of breath from all those, young or old, who lined the route.
Arriving at last at a pair of vast double doors, fashioned from fragrant sandalwood and sumptuously carved with scenes of men and women in virtually every permutation of sexual congress, the bodyguard threw them open and, with a small clap of his hands and a lewd wink, indicated to me that I should enter. I quickly went in, averting my eyes from those of my master, and prostrated my young body on the floor, just inside the doors. As I crouched, quivering in anticipation of what was to come, I heard the doors quietly swing shut, leaving me to face the rest of the night alone with this great and powerful man.
After a moment or two a measured, deep voice said: 'Please rise, my little flower. Do not be afraid-I mean you no harm. I spied you this morning in the orange grove, inhaling the scent of a perfect white blossom while the sun illuminated your perfect beauty, and I immediately felt compelled to request the pleasure of your company this evening. Tell me, precious one, have you resided long at the palace?'
Slowly rising to my feet, as steadily as I could and with breasts rising and falling in my flimsy garment like the breast of a small, captive bird, I stood and faced the powerful being who had addressed me-a ruler so mighty he could crush and destroy whole empires on a momentary whim-and found before me a tall, gentle man of immense physical beauty and presence. Deeply suntanned, bearded, with compelling but compassionate black eyes and a deep scar across one cheek, this living legend was, plainly, a man first with a man's needs and desires.
Recognising this fact I began slowly to relax, replying to his questions as best I could in my low, musical voice. 'I was born in the palace, Sire. My mother was a concubine belonging to your father. After many years in his intimate service, because she had pleased him greatly and afforded him so much pleasure, she was graciously permitted to marry his most trusted personal servant, and I was the result of their union. When I was fourteen I, too, joined the royal harem, just as my mother had done before me, and here I am at your request-a faithful and humble girl willing to please you, My Lord, in whatever way you desire…' Lowering my lashes, I raised my hands from my sides and joined them, reverently, before my swelling, bejewelled breasts.
'Your mother must have been an exceptionally beautiful woman to have produced a vision such as yourself,' the king said huskily, his eyes roaming from my sumptuous golden hair to my full, voluptuous breasts, my shapely hips and long, coltish legs, then back again. 'But first,' he said briskly, regaining his composure, 'let us eat!'
He clapped his hands together sharply and four serving girls entered on swift, silent feet, carrying trays of exotic delicacies high on their heads. On reaching the dining area, which was surrounded by soft, bright cushions, they arranged the beaten silver platters containing succulent, spiced meats, fragrant, aromatic rice and ripe fruits in the centre on a profusion of richly embroidered mats. Lighting a number of tall beeswax candles in gleaming pewter candelabrum and pouring measures of heady red wine into two engraved silver goblets, they departed as
