Days of the Raj Ch. 04

The "divine trickster."

Dried off, and pulling on his sandals and wool helmet, he scarpered from his room. Down the barrel-vaulted corridor with its prints of English pastoral scenes and portraits of the kings and queens he skipped, moving so swiftly that a drowsy sari-clad maid only noticed a disturbance in the shadows.

He unbolted the heavy timber door and slid outside so flightingly the lounging, barrel-chested, turbaned guard only rearranged his backside on his stool without opening his eyes. Nicholas sprang down the steps, running high across the lawn of the school grounds and out the iron gate. An Indian gazelle, fleeing a tiger on the Gangetic plains, would not have moved faster.

In seconds he was sprinting elegant long strides down the darkness of Coronation Parade, its villas sealed for the night and attendants asleep in sentry boxes. The smell of burning dung flavoured the air. He passed the Maharajah's city palace where khaki-uniformed Sikh guards with red turbans played dice in the drive way. He passed the neo-Gothic British Resident's building and the classical-revivial Secretariat, their windows darkened.

Dogs barked at his soaring form, pursued him, then lost interest and trailed away.

The driver of a crawling bullock cart saw the nude youth with genitals flying in his groin, but chose not to believe the evidence of his own eyes, the supernatural being part of Indian life, right down to gilded helmet and winged sandals.

Hermes rounded into Victoria Boulevarde.

A broad band of light fell from the colonnaded entrance to the Lancers and Cavalry Club in which Judge Humphrey Le Maistre of the Sessions Court, in white tie and tails, ushered his wife and daughter into a one-horse carriage. "Oh, my goodness!" exclaimed Mrs Le Maistre as the naked youth flew by, suddenly illuminated and his gilded helmet glistening. "What was that!" Her husband, flushed with brandy, bloated with Beef Wellington, staggered and his cigar sparked as it hit the ground. Nineteen year old Cassandra stood immobile watching the youth's buttocks power him quickly beyond the lamplight. A statue, sprung to life...an erotic vision from another world. She felt a queer emotion, a sudden yearning.

Nicholas capered along the line of 100 year old Banyan trees, leaping over their labyrinthine roots. The scent of open drains competed with jasmine. Then at the gate to the teachers' bungalow he stopped and kneeled and reached through the bars. He rootled in the bushes of flowering Bougainvillea. He produced a key planted by Fanny Goodman, let himself in and relocked the gate.

He padded down the driveway and, in the shadows, approached the building. He parted the branches of the Azaleas to peer through the bay window of the parlour...

...and the erotic tableaux it offered.

Four Indian servants were lined-up. Their brown bodies were naked. They were brazenly erect. The seven young women lounged or leant forward in their seats. That their eyes were riveted on the erections could not be denied.

Nude males, dressed females, the atmosphere electric.

The fire in the eyes of the females- as each girl dilated on cock- was visible even to Nicholas at the window.

His cock jolted, parallel to the ground. Through the branches and flowers of the shrub, he was able to press closer.

Hermione stood, lecturing the errant boys.

"So, I go to the door...and I find you. Crouching! Listening to us, hearing our every word as we read our stories! And naked! Without your loin cloths which we, in the goodness of our hearts, designed for each of you. Look at yourselves, without a stitch!"

The boys looked sheepish.

Embarrassed and naked.

"And, goodness, each in a state of engorgement!"

The other girls sniggered.

Four brown cocks pointed back.

The boys blushed with guilt and confusion.

Hermione, hand on chin, looked them over.

"Engorged,' indeed. Look, they are all...hard as hammers!"

The girls laughed lewdly.

"Hard as teak!"

"Bone hard!"

The boys flushed with a hue of shame.

"Well, friends, it's time to punish our boys."

"And how, I wonder, will we do that?"

"Leather belts?"

"Slippers? Hairbrushes?"

They were all suddenly animated.

"Oh joy! Oh joy!" exclaimed Penny. "A spanking party!"

"Just as in the story!"

"What happens to naughty boys!"

"And we don't even have to strip them!"

"They're already unrigged!"

Outside the window Nicholas felt his insides turn to hot treacle. His prick stretched and rose to full stand.

Girls bustled out of the parlour. The boys looked at one another. There was a whispered exchange in Hindi. Some nervous half smiles. Hands strayed to cocks, moving tentatively. A wait...and then...breathless, the young women returned, armed.

Jenny Garland held a leather belt, broad and heavy. She picked Lalo, the boy she had made slip out of his loin cloth and hold up his scrotum, so she could inspect his raphe- before Beverly had interrupted them. Yes, something drew her to the rangy boy with the dark skin.

With a prurient fire in her eyes she began applying wild lashes.

Whoosh!

Whoosh!

Whoosh!

Across his globes. Yes, that experience in a Home County school known for its robust disciplinary regime was was very much on display.

Lalo held onto his penis stem as if for life itself. It was black, veiny with a red cap and he moved his hand up and down, more and more urgently, skipping on the spot, as the belt blazed across his bottom. Striking his rear, Jenny was also focused on that offending cock. Engorged, Jenny thought as she lashed him. You are engorged, because you heard our story about a naked boy being spanked over the knee of his beautiful female teacher.

Slash! Across his left globe. Slash! Even then, more savagely, his right...then both thighs at once, very hard...then his "sit spot" or gluteal fold. Lash! "Owwwwwwwww!" The sting of this last made him leap! But still stiff, even as white ridges appeared on his brown skin. Still stiff.

Jenny thought of the lines from one of those Victorian novels. It was called First Training by Anonymous and she had read it so often this passage was glued to her brain. "Even when whipped or smacked their cocks stand up proudly for with brimming hearts and eager balls they know that they will be put to good use afterwards."

This boy's cock is standing up proudly, she told herself. Proudly. His balls are "eager."

Watching from the dark, Nicholas felt his insides light up.

Lalo's cock is as wicked as mine, he thought.

Cecilia sailed into Akim with the slipper. Slap! Slap! Slap! Fast and furious on his bottom cheeks. The boy grimaced, then smiled as his nates reddened. And his erection was bouncing as the slaps descended. Cecilia only became frustrated, lashing away with the leather sole at his bottom, then descending to his thighs. He now skipped on the spot, seemed close to giggling. His stiff rod bounced in front.

Those Indian servant boys are loving it, thought Nicholas, loving every minute of it. His hand dropped and fingered his own bolt-hard cock.

Three young women- Hermione, Gloria and Helene- converged on Johor. The exposed boy gulped, with fear or pleasure or an arousing commixture of both. Each female had a thin bamboo stick from the garden. They circled him.

Johor trembled, cock in hand, as the three of them, holding bamboo sticks, stood looking him up and down.

Up and down, flicked their appraising glances.

Yes, thought Nicholas, they are thrilled to the core by his nudity and, especially, the sight of that audacious, dangling ball, dragging his scrotal sac to hang low on the left.

Jenny, eyes flashing, was first. She came down on his left glute! Slash! A white line appeared on the reddish brown of his bottom. Then Hermione. She lashed his right thigh! Owwwwww! The boy sprang.

Gloria's turn. The girl was deep in thought as she surveyed his shameful vulnerability: his birthday suit nudity, the burst of dark hair in the middle of his chest and, yes, the low hanging testicle. Then she gathered strength and raised her arm and brought it down savagely. She caught him in the middle of his bottom, across both buttocks.

Both!

She made him leap and howl!

Which was an invitation for the three maidens to grin at one another and redouble their assault on the naked boy. What a choice! The middle of his glutes? His gluteal crease? His upper thighs?

Slash! Slash! Slash!

And as he hopped and staggered they saw his long ballsac swing. And his cock shrink and soften, even as he fondled it.

Beverly looked at Kama, deep into his lambert chocolate eyes. She nodded and with a light touch on his arm edged him to the couch. She noticed a sweet sense of surrender. Speaking in a whisper she told him to lie on his back. He obeyed, and wriggled into place. She then told him to raise his legs. She took hold of his ankles and pressed them back. This had his exposed rump tilted, ready for punishment.

This afforded her a view of his exposed genitals: his perky erection bubbled a clear fluid, his gauzy ballsac lolled upside down. Kama looked up, into her eyes, waiting.

With her right hand she held the outsize hairbrush made of plain, white, unvarnished wood.

Down she brought it, with all the surging lust that had gathered force during the day: the sight of George Applewhite and of Cyrus with his "mighty steed" naked in the corridor, then Cyrus in the bath and being spanked by Miss Maitland, and the story they had just read together, The Romance of Lust, with its romantic spanking and the sight tonight of bared cock and nates.

Again, her hairbrush came down with savage force. On Kama's tilted bottom, with its hairless peephole winking back at her.

Oh, his little hole- she had never glimpsed it before.

It was hairless, a mauve pout, set in the suede skin of his exposed cleft.

Slap! Slap! Slap!

And at each blow Kama's neat, little ball bag wobbled and his urgent erection shook, while he looked up into the flushed face of his protectress, more like a stern matron.

Did she hear him correctly? Between the slapping of the hairbrush?

"Mommy..."

So low, none of the others might hear.

"...I loves you, Mommy."

When had he learnt this nursery expression? From whom? And the force of nature that had impelled the boy also infected her. She replied, "But you have been a naughty boy..."

Kama nodded his head.

"...and therefore Mommy must punish your naughty little bottom..."

He nodded again.

And dribbled out the words, "...punish my naughty little bottom..."

And, while her very insides melted, Beverly kept up the spanking on the boy's roundest bits.

Although not, it must be said, of the most savage kind.

Fanny saw the problem with Akim- Cecilia's assaults with the slipper were stimulating, not stinging, him. With a look at Cecilia which said, "I'm taking over," she took the dark, rangy boy by the arm, steering him to the chair where, in a flash of boldness, she eased him over her lap. She had read the story of the spanking of the schoolboy, and it had excited her beyond measure and she had thrilled to its forbidden words. Now she would perform a spanking herself. Just like the one she had read from The Romance of Lust.

Her dress was of the lightest material and she must have felt Akim's erection press resolutely into her lady bits. If so, it did not incommode her one little bit. She took hold of his bottom and rearranged it, even to the point where his determined stiffness pressed deeper. Then she started to spank him with her open palm...

...as hard as she could manage.

Some instinct made the boy grip the crossbar of the chair while he pressed his toes into the floor. He made muffled sounds and shifted his position. To the observers he was plainly wriggling his penis into her mount.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Akim was soon purring like a cat. And tapping the floor with his toes.

From the window Nicholas' eyes were bulging. He was witnessing an old fashioned, over-the-knee spanking- the boy in his birthday suit, the female dressed, the way Sarah Maitland had always decreed- "total clothing deprivation," she always put it...

In this fashion Fanny took to Akim, with her palm striking the mahogany curves on her knee.

Slap! Slap! Slap!

Oh, thought Nicholas, pressed against the window, how that must be tingling! He moved his hand up and down his penis stem...

Fanny's slaps quickened, her eyes blazing...

No, thought Nicholas, this goes beyond tingling, his bottom is really stinging...

...yes, and from the twisting of the boy, it was clear the stimulus to his rear- the painful accumulation of those slaps- was making him wriggle his erection right into the tender spot of the young woman.

Nicholas quickened his own stroking.

Slap! Slap! Slap!

Fanny's eyes were on fire, hypnotised by the dancing buttocks on her knee. The boy's movement was lewd. She felt his prick wriggling and thrusting at her cunny. And the watching girls knew it too, as they ended their own punishments and gathered around. Even Beverly's chastisement of Kama had halted. She moved in to watch Fanny at work.

They all looked at the girl with the boy over her knee.

As for Akim his movements were becoming more urgent. He was moving towards his climax.

The two other boys, standing behind the absorbed girls, were stroking their cocks, mesmerised.

Akim was bucking on her lap. And his moans turned into a long, animal exhalation.

Without any caution now, he was driving his cock into the space between Fanny's thighs. Fast and urgent. She slapped harder and quicker. His globes were now lacquered a bright red.

The girl looked transfixed as the two nates leapt around on her lap, just below her nose.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" came his strangulated cry.

The girls moved in close.

"OOOH-HAAAAR!"

And his upper body shot out...

...parallel to the floor, like a jutting gargoyle on a cathedral roof.

"FEEE-OOOOH!"

And then collapsed, spent. His face hung just inches from the floor.

Perfectly still.

Clearly something had happened. There had been a release.

The girl who had brought him to the climax stopped her hand, and looked down, flushed, exhausted.

The two standing boys were now urgently masturbating, eyes fastened on their friend's reddened glutes lying prone over the knees of the merciless girl.

With a prurient greed on their faces the females pulled back, all the better to view what Johor and Lalo were doing.

"Like monkeys, in the town gardens," thought Hermione.

"Boys...they can't help themselves," thought Gloria.

Only their arms moving, eyes hypnotised by the sight of their friend's blazing bottom in the lap of the young woman.

Stroking their turgid cocks.

Only the soft watery sound of skin on skin disturbed the air.

The girls watched the obscene display of frantic self pleasuring.

Johor exploded first with a high intensity shot that flew high and fell to the blouse of Cecilia. The girl looked down open mouthed. "What's that?" she gasped. Another pearly explosion fell at her feet, a third hit the carpet, adding a silvery curlicue to the Rajasthani design.

There was a collective gasp from the young women. A few giggled nervously. They stared at the final jets and dribbles from his cockhead.

The boy stood transfixed, arms askew. A trail of pearly fluid dangled from his meatus. It looked guilty, hideous, something from a medical textbook.

Lalo now grabbed their attention. He was standing with blazing eyes fixed on Akim's reddened nates and stroking his erection even more frantically.

Splosh! He erupted...and his pearly explosion shot across the room to splash on the blouse of a shocked Jenny.

Further cannonades landed at the feet of three young ladies. Splop! Splop! Splop! There were more gasps.

Beverly, who had stopped the rat-a-tat-tat on the tilted bottom of Kama now helped the boy from the couch. All turned to him. His dark eyes darted furiously. His fingers fluttered to his groin and began their work. Up and down the rigid stem. Again, the soft watery sound of skin on skin and the boy's heavy breathing.

But something was missing.

His hand movement came to a halt.

Why had he stopped?

Both his hands rose to his nipples...and squeezed. His nipples? The girls watched intently.

His erection perked up. A new glob of resin appeared as if by magic on the glans.

And, also as if by magic, or at least the potent force of hypnosis...

...Beverly took three steps towards him- this shy girl with unguessed depths to her soul and yearnings- and paused in front of him.

What might she do, this rosy cheeked girl who had been captured by the desire to spy on naked boys stripped for punishment? She soon answered the unasked question.

She reached out and with the thumb and index finger of each hand she secured Kama's brown, thrusting, cylindrical nipples and squeezed harder than pliers.

His neck tendons stood out as surely as the veins on his tool. His eyes clenched shut and he groaned...and gurgled...

"NEEEEEEE-YAAAAAAA!"

...and mumbled something in which the noun "Mommy" might have been identified...and Whoosh!

He let froth a thick line of fluid that struck the young woman on her chin and began trailing to the floor...

...another that landed on her cotton-clad bosom...

...and a third that splashed to her feet.

"Gaaaaaaarrr..."

Kama slumped, a dangling stretch of silver fluid falling from his cockhead. And a searching expression on his face. He looked at Beverley for a hint, a sign.

Her love danced from lambert eyes. It answered his request.

She released her grip.

None of them arranged in this touching tableau- decorous English maidens, nude Indian servant boys- heard the splash of another grand pearly explosion. It took place outside the bay window, in the dark, from the branches of the azaleas. Nicholas Elliot let forth his emission against the side of the bungalow, accompanied by a tortured grunt.

So for a moment at least all was frozen.

For a magic moment...

Until Fanny remembered her tryst with Nicholas and, with a glance at the window and the outside darkness, drifted ethereally to the door.

Until Akim raised himself from the lap of Fanny exposing the wet deposit that weighed heavily in the depression of her cotton frock.

Until all four boys, with stuttering apologies and by-your-leaves and nodding and bowing, backed their way to the door, shyly sheltering their dripping pricks.

Until Jenny Garland with a restless hunting look in her eye directed at Lalo's nates, followed the boys' steps and, like them, vanished into the corridor.

Until the three girls who shared a room and a fondness for love between ladies- Gloria, Cecilia and Helene- looked around with far-off smiles and a shrug of their shoulders and drifted too, arm in arm down the corridor.

Until Beverly, too, with roiling insides stirred by the- goodness gracious- six naked males she had seen today close up- six! Six cocks, six sets of testicles, six delicious bared bottoms! For a lonely, shy girl, raised in rural England, six stiff pricks...and, just now- and earlier with George Applewhite- the fragrant scent of young male ejaculations. This all in one magical, tropical day! In all her life in Dorset there had been one only, that fleeting encounter with the nude milk boy, Daniel, in the stables, displaying himself stitchless. But here, in India! To say she was a girl transfused was to merely hint at the forces that worked inside her.

What possessed her now, reared in chapel and village life? Nothing less than Kama, and the delicate cock and sweet ballsac that had wobbled under her eyes. Nothing less than the reared bottom on which she had landed spanks with the hairbrush, that bottom with its shockingly opened cleft and the taunting eye that peeped out from it.