King of a Distant Country Ch. 01-03

I lost consciousness for a few seconds so overloaded were my senses. When I came to myself again she was poised, squatting above me with her back to me. She held my rampant member in her bound hands and was rocking gently back and forth, brushing the crown of my lingam with her long, moist lips. Once she saw that I was awake again, she shot me a wicked smile and lowered herself slowly onto me until my manly organ was completely invisible. Her oversized petals appeared to clasp at the flesh of my belly and I groaned aloud. She took this as her signal and rotated her body forwards and began a strange undulating motion of her hips with the result that I was afforded a clear view of my lingam appearing and disappearing into her orchid. I became aware that the golden rod buried deeply in her nether orifice must be of a ridged pattern for I could feel it through the wall of her yoni. It produced an exquisite sensation that she accentuated with the rolling of her hips. The combination of visual and physical stimulation was unbearable and I felt the first stirrings of my crisis. I started to move my own hips with more urgency and she responded by slamming down onto my thighs and clamping hard with her internal muscles, remaining absolutely motionless until my excitement receded somewhat. Then she began again.

I cannot recall how many times she brought me to the point of climax only to hold me fast before I could tip over the edge. I find it amazing now that I acquiesced to such sweet torture with every sensation sharpened to an unbearable degree by the drug that addled my brain. I lay there, sweating and gasping with my heart pounding against my ribcage. I could not help but admire the strength of her thighs and the stamina with which she applied herself to her task. At length, she could carry on no further and pitched forward to rest her forehead on the divan, allowing her legs to slide out behind her. She knelt thus like a supplicant. I rose and moved behind her, preparing, this time, to gain my release.

As I moved to position myself, she grasped the golden rod between slender fingers and withdrew it from her fundament. It was then I saw that the rod was, in fact, a short plug with a series of golden balls threaded on a fine chain depending from its tip. These were the ridges I had felt. She expelled each ball slowly, shuddering a little as she did so. When at last she was empty of the spheres, she indicated by gesture that I should now enter where once they had been. I needed no second invitation and eased my self into the grasping mouth of her fundament. I began to fuck her then with long, slow strokes. She gyrated her hips in time with my movements and was panting like a rabid dog. A flash of movement caught my eye and a naked Cat suddenly interposed herself, forcing my legs apart and sliding head first underneath me.

Cat began to lap at us both, licking my balls and probing the Singhalese girl's yoni with her tongue. I felt her finger insinuate itself into my own fundament and I will confess I delighted in the intrusion and pushed back to allow her freer access. The other girl began to thrash and moan and the pace became frantic. I was pummelling her buttocks as I slammed into her as hard and as fast I could go. Cat was mewling and slurping like a good'un and the Singhalese was yelping and moaning while I issued forth such a volley of curses and filth as would make a sailor blush. Then I was lost, soaring among the stars. The girl squealed at the first spurting of my hot seed and clamped down hard. I rammed through the tightness, spending again and again until I thought I would turn myself inside out. I have never felt the like. Whether this was the drug or the result of my first experience with the vice of Sodom, I cannot tell.

Cat continued to lap beneath us I collapsed across the prostrate girl's back. When I could move again at last, I withdrew my wilting member from the girl's arse and sat back. I looked down into Cat's hooded eyes and saw the smouldering lust within. I felt an answering hunger and was amazed to find my lingam standing proudly before me yet again. There was a kind of vicious rage within me and I seized Cat roughly and spun her over before slamming into her sopping yoni. After a dozen or so deep thrusts, I was ready. I seized Cat's buttocks and stretched them wide. She knew then that I meant to use her as I had the other girl and she splayed her legs wide and thrust out her rump towards me. The Singhalese had roused herself in the meanwhile and had shed the bindings of her wrists. She now came and took my member in her hand and steered it towards its goal. I will admit that I was a little rough with Cat, but the minx had been hiding all the while and observing me, so I determined that a little punishment was in order. I thrust my entire length into her giving her no time to accommodate my girth. She yelped in pain and I rejoiced in it. I slammed into her again and again while the other girl massaged my aching balls with one hand and diddled Cat with the other. Cat soon entered into the spirit of things and was pounding back at me as hard as I was going at her.

It couldn't last. Crazed as I was, I knew that this would be a short, hard ride and so it proved. I was soon in the grip of another thunderous climax. My hips jerked uncontrollably and I howled like a dog. My seed burst forth to flood Cat's willing fundament and she, too, howled as she felt the heat of it burst deep within her. I fell back on the divan, physically and emotionally drained. The two girls exchanged meaningful looks and then embraced, kissing each other passionately. I watched in a trance-like state of detachment as they caressed each other. It seemed to be taking place on another continent so distant did it seem to my befuddled senses. I watched Cat unbind the other girl's breasts and heard, as if from far away, the latter's moan as the blood surged back into those tortured orbs. The sensation must have been extremely intense for she clasped her sex with both her hands and rocked and moaned and carried on to beat the band while Cat suckled on her distended nipples and tugged on the girl's curiously long cuntlips. I think I must have dozed off about then. When I awoke, an hour since, I was alone. Only the heavy smell of stale sex overlaid with the sweetish smell of the hashish remained.

July 1870

I have been pondering lately on the nature of debauchery. That which, a few scant months ago, I would have considered base and despicable behaviour I now find commonplace. I seem to have lost the power to shock myself in any way. My life has become one long hedonistic pursuit of new sensations. When one act begins to pall, I must find another to stimulate my jaded senses. With a stable of sixty beauties to choose from one would think it is a relatively simple matter. Each of the girls has her own preference and some display a degree of skill and dexterity that is truly amazing, yet even this is no longer enough to move me. I have had them singly, in pairs or as many as six at a time. I have held orgies that would rival Tiberius Caesar. There seems to be no end to Cat's inventiveness in arranging these soirees and yet and yet….

I now believe that the appetite may indeed be surfeited; acts that once thrilled leave only a feeling of emptiness. Sinuous hips and swelling bosoms no longer move me as they once did. Cat suggests I should try one of the late Nizzam's catamites but that thought still disgusts me; what profit would be there in a counterfeit woman? I find myself spending more time in the company of Baljit. She is really the most intelligent young thing and her mastery of English increases every day, as does her physical maturity. As far as I can establish, she is now about fourteen or fifteen. The enjoyment of regular meals has caused her to grow quite a bit taller and although she still displays a charming childish quality at times, there is no doubt that she will be something of a beauty. She is utterly devoted to me and I am frequently aware of her large brown eyes upon me as I sit at my desk ordering the affairs of the day.

One cause of increasing frustration to me is my inability to modernise the organs of State here in Nambhustan. Any attempt at reform is furiously resisted on the grounds that it will offend one faction or another or runs contrary to established tradition. My only success has been in the abolition of certain taxes that were applied only to the Hindoos. This did not find favour with the Musselmen at Court but my word is law. Far too much of the administration of the country is in the hands of the clerics of both persuasions. Education and Law are both the province of either the Brahmins or the Imams. Perhaps my being the son of a clergyman prejudices me against men of religion. All I do know is that numerous taboos and religious laws have a crippling effect on the poorer sort, yet they accept the strictures with great equanimity. It seems to me that the very idea of getting one's reward in the afterlife was invented by those who have most in the here-and-now. The have-nots, of course, are conveniently kept at bay with promises for the hereafter.

I have discussed this with Baljit. After all, she is one of those of the untouchable caste who most epitomise the great divide. The Hindoos, of course, believe in reincarnation, so her view is that the poor are encouraged to conform in the unshakeable belief that they will return to this earth in a higher degree. This can only be achieved if they live blameless lives, so, rather than jeopardise their chance of being first at the feeding trough, they accept their current lot as being only a passing phase. This does much to explain their fatalism. I count this as being even more cunning than the other religions that promise heavenly delights – largely unspecified. At least these people can see how the superior sort live and the contrasts could not be more stark. As the one who sits at the top of this particular pyramid, I can afford to have my doubts.

September 1870

On the advice of my wily and extremely crooked Prime Minister, I am undertaking a Royal Progress throughout the whole of Nambhustan. I agreed to the idea initially because I was simply bored but, since we started, some two weeks past, I have found my enthusiasm growing. One thing that has become apparent is that such maps that do exist of the country are highly fanciful and monstrously inaccurate. Neither is there any true census of the people. This a situation that must be rectified and, accordingly, I have sent for a team of German engineers to begin a scientific survey. This will be a lengthy project as, even from the little I have seen of the interior, it is quite apparent that large tracts are impenetrable jungle with few roads worthy of the name anywhere. I am determined to rectify this and my Germans will be given the additional task of planning a proper system of communication. Who knows? I might even commission a railway up to Dimburrah. It would be good to leave lasting impression of my enlightened rule on this backward land.

Of course, one of the objectives of former Royal Progresses was the recruitment of suitable nubile virgins for the Royal Harem. I have decided that my stable will be kept at sixty, so, before leaving, I discharged some fifteen of the girls to make room for the new recruits. This caused some consternation among those selected and there was much wailing that was only assuaged by the provision of handsome dowries. I made it clear that they were free to do as they choose and, suitably enriched, they departed in good spirits. The only exception was the large-breasted Persian girl, who was inconsolable. It appears she has fallen in love with the little Annamese girl so I had to allow the lovers to leave together, thus resulting in sixteen vacancies. It will require the judgement of a Solomon to make the choices for, everywhere we stop, we are presented with the most alluring maidens that the locality has to offer.

I cannot make the natives understand that I wish to keep the numbers down. The old Nizzam just kept adding to his harem until it reached ridiculous proportions. I also reject all those offered who are not yet of age, or more accurately, appear to be so, for many of these people have no true idea of how old they are. My companions on the Progress are Cat, the Singhalese girl and, inevitably, Baljit. We struggle to cover much more than eight or ten miles per day, as, at each halt, my enormous pavilion must be erected along with smaller affairs for the courtiers. All this tentage is carried on elephant back and there is a train of bullock carts bringing the servants, kitchens and assorted dunnage. We are escorted by six hundred Lancers and two companies of foot, which act as camp guards. Setting up and striking camp occupies at least four hours each day. It is a singularly unsatisfactory and frustrating way to travel.

To give a flavour of the Progress, I will describe a typical ‘durbar' – the local name for a Royal Audience. We arrive at appointed place in mid afternoon and the pavilions are set up. Before my own pavilion is a large open space upon which is set a dais overtopped by an elaborate canopy. My ‘throne' is then placed upon this platform and the local populace assemble. Courtiers and guards flank the dais and I make my Royal Entrance last. All then fall on their faces before me. I give a regal wave and they kneel up. The various local headmen then present any petitions and I dispense my judgements. This takes but a few lines to tell but is an inordinately long-winded affair, as each has first to offer a paean of praise to the monarch and then state his genealogy for sixty or seventy generations before coming to the heart of the matter. Gifts must be exchanged and honours conferred and all manner of rituals observed.

After this comes the feast, which takes another three hours or so. It is therefore nearly midnight before we come to the judging of the virgins. A number of young girls - anything between a dozen and thirty, depending on the size of the district – are presented for my consideration. Protocol demands that I must choose one from each district; to reject all would be considered a royal humiliation. How does one choose? The simple answer is ‘with great difficulty.' Prior to my experiences in Nambhustan, I would have said that, in common with most men, I preferred a particular type of woman. If pressed I would express a fancy for the more slender type, the athletic variety of blonde English Rose. Of course, there was none of that stamp available to me and, in any event, I have learnt to find beauty in a variety of guises. I will confess that I am somewhat put off by thick ankles and stocky legs, so those possessing these attributes were swiftly weeded out.

Thereafter, I became capricious in my choices. Those possessed of crooked teeth, I rejected out of hand. Similarly, any displaying an incipient moustache – a not uncommon phenomenon in these climes – were also dismissed. But then, I would decide that today I wished for a short girl or one with pointed conical breasts whereas yesterday, my preference might have been for a taller maid with a rounded bosom. In short, what ever I chose one day, I would choose differently the next so that my sole object became simple variety. Having selected those that fit the day's criteria, I then allow Cat to make the final selection. She accomplished this task by approaching each candidate in turn and forcing on them a most passionate embrace. Those who responded with a will were then selected. It amused me to think that Cat is actually auditioning for her own benefit rather than mine, although she does assure me that she seeks only to establish whether the girl is possessed of a passionate nature.

Baljit watches each performance with disdain writ large on her grave features. I believe she is aware of my growing ennui but says nothing. She has involved herself in the process only once and that was to veto one of Cat's choices. Baljit hissed something at the girl in question and the poor creature fled. I took her to task but she simply shot me a penetrating glance and asked if I was aware that the ‘girl' was in fact a castrato – a young eunuch impersonating a female. I was extremely angry that such a deception could be attempted and declared that no candidate would be selected from that district, now, or in the future. This puzzled the locals greatly as the previous Nizzam had been much given to selecting such creatures. It may have been an honest mistake but one I could not countenance. Damn it all, I'm still British!

October 1870

After two months of toil and travel, the end is at last in sight. I cannot begin to describe how weary I am of the whole damned thing. One place blurs into another and the petitions seem more like repetitions. To add to my misery, the monsoon has broken and our progress is hampered by washed-out bridges and cloying mud. When it rains in India, it doesn't do so by half measures. One can smell it coming – a sort of freshness in the air. Then the distant hills are obliterated by a curtain of water and the horizon appears to rush towards one as the deluge approaches. Finally, one hears a rushing sound as the raindrops beat upon the foliage. Sometimes this is accompanied by the celestial pyrotechnics of a great thunderstorm and the sky is riven with forked lightning. The clouds are as black as Hades and all the water they accumulated over the Bay of Bengal is dashed upon the sodden earth. Raindrops hit the stony roads and bounce back to knee height; I can tell you, they really sting if they strike exposed flesh. After this initial onslaught, the clouds seem to settle down and weep steadily for hours. Rivers become muddy brown torrents and the plains become inundated with floodwater. Indeed, a monsoon storm is a singular experience.

We should be back in Nambhupore within the week, weather permitting. Thus far I have ‘collected' some fifteen virgins to replace the sixteen girls I released. As there are no more durbars planned, that will have to do. Cat is already planning the ‘grand defloration' – it appears as if she wishes me to take on all fifteen at one sitting, as it were. Well, as I previously accomplished the feat of rogering fifty-eight at one go, it holds no particular terrors for me and might actually be good sport. The girls all have to undergo a period of instruction before the great event so I think it might be a good way to celebrate Christmas!

(Editor's Note: The man is an absolute Bounder! To even consider desecrating a solemn Christian Festival with this type of sordid bacchanalia leaves one quite speechless. Is there no depth to which he will not sink?)

November 1870

My German engineers have arrived and a very odd lot they are too. The man in charge is a funny little fellow with thick spectacles that appear to have been made out of the bottom of beer bottles. He speaks little English and goes about the place muttering "Ach, so!" Two of his companions, whom I have named Tweedledum and Tweedledee, are both stout gentlemen of jolly disposition who chatter like magpies in a rapid patois of English, German and Hindi to any poor soul who has the misfortune to encounter them. This causes great consternation among the locals, as they can barely understand one word in twenty uttered. The fourth member of the party is a young Adonis of over six feet in height- all blonde curls and chiselled features - whose name is Albrecht. He speaks almost accentless English and is followed everywhere by a crowd of admiring children. I must say he puts up with this with great equanimity and, indeed, goes out of his way to explain to them, in halting but serviceable Hindi, the use of the various instruments that seem to be his particular province.