King of a Distant Country Ch. 01-03

However, I was willing to go along with Cat but, at first, I was unable. Whether or not this was caused by the presence of over fifty pairs of eyes on me, all watching my performance or whether I was simply thinking too much about it, my lingam was as limp as a dishrag. Cat growled something at Meenah and the girl promptly dived down and drew my useless member into her mouth. She had an inordinately long tongue for, as she sucked upon the entire length of my none-too-co-operative lingam, she was able to slather my stones at the same time. Impressive as this undoubtedly was, it did not have the desired effect. I was simply too tense to perform. Fortunately, Cat knows me very well now and she muttered a command to another girl who leapt forward and eased me back onto the divan. She then squatted above me and lowered her plump yoni over my lips. When all else fails, it may be guaranteed that I will respond to the scent and taste of a ripe yoni, and so it proved.

While I was thus occupied, Meenah took matters into her own hands, so to speak. She grasped my member quite firmly and hurled herself onto it, impaling her virginity with a massive downwards thrust of her hips. I felt a monetary resistance but that was all. I could see nothing of her face, my vision being restricted by two silken cuntlips and my attention held entirely by this delightful sight, but if the noises she made were anything to go by, she did not find the loss of her maidenhead any great inconvenience. Meenah thrashed herself against me and I could feel the forceful grinding of her nether parts against me. All the while, she gave out a high, keening cry, not unlike the noise of a hunting falcon. The little flower above me was gyrating her hips quite nicely by now and Meenah plunged and reared on my lingam like one possessed. It was clear that her ‘punishment' had not spoilt her appetite. I felt the muscles of her tight yoni spasm as she reached her private peak and was quite prepared to go on with the next one save the little minx had not yet had enough.

No sooner had she passed one crisis than another approached and she howled like a mad wolf and pumped her thighs like pistons, rising up and thrusting back down on my lingam at a fearful rate. She would have gone for ‘thirds,' too, had Cat not dragged off me by the hair. By now I was more than equal to the task and I lifted my little helper off my face and spun her onto her back. To Hell with Cat's grand design, I just needed to fuck! I positioned myself at her glistening entrance and rammed into her. I saw her eyed widen with the shock but then I was beyond caring. She was as wet as could be and I was dimly conscious of the slurping and farting sounds emanating from our hectic thrashing. A tear squeezed out from one eye as I thrust myself right into her and mashed my body hard against her jewel. Her training had been thorough and she pushed back at me and swivelled her hips to increase the stimulation. My earlier ministrations had pushed to the brink, only interrupted by the pain of her defloration. Now she gasped and moaned and carried on and I felt her body tense as the delayed crisis hit her like a shot from an elephant gun. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she lay still.

I heaved myself upright and grabbed the next one. Cat wasn't happy that I was spoiling her plan but the other girls were obviously enjoying the spectacle. One little devil was frigging herself and thrusting her hips towards me with a lascivious grin on her face. I decided that she would be next and pushed her down onto the divan. I shoved her over onto her side and seized up her leg so that I watch my lingam penetrate her. She had one of those yonis with very pronounced inner petals and the sight of them spreading around my plunging lingam was utterly intoxicating. There was absolutely no resistance as I ploughed into her and the little so-and-so had the nerve to grin. Here was one ‘virgin' who needed no deflowering! I watched in fascination at the way her lips seemed to clasp at me as I pulled back and roll with me as I slid back in. I bade her continue frigging herself and this was the final straw. I felt the lightening building in my balls and shot a thundering load of seed deep within her. As I knelt there panting and trying to control the spinning in my head, she brought herself off with a shuddering sigh. I pulled my dripping lingam from her clenched yoni and sat back with a satisfied grin like Mr Carol's Cheshire cat.

I definitely needed a breather by this point and sent out for refreshments while two of the girls bathed my aching lingam. It was clear to me that if I was going to perform my royal duty, I would need to practice some of those Tantric arts as demonstrated by my friendly guru. The old charlatan set much store by the way one breathes and I resolved to essay his disciplines in this regard when the action resumed. Cat was hissing and spitting at me like the animal for which I named her. I waved her off but then relented. I told her that she might select the girls but that I would choose how to do ‘em. This left her little mollified so I promised her that I would take each in a different fashion – but of my own devising. And so it proved to be. I cannot claim to recall each individual that followed. I tried my Tantra tricks and managed the full half dozen more before once again spending my seed. I can tell you I was feeling mightily pleased with myself.

We had another break and this time, I took a short nap before resuming. Thus restored, I resorted to my unfailing remedy for a flagging lingam and pushed my face into a couple of sweet yonis before I was ready again to finish the task. The aching of my thigh muscles was a perfect antidote to the arousal afforded by so much succulent young flesh. I penetrated on. The girls' reactions were all fairly similar. A tightening of the face or an indrawing of the breath at the first encounter and then the training took over. Each, obedient to that she had been taught, returned my pumping ardour with a will – or so it seemed, at least. Truth to tell, I thought little of it. It had the semblance of passion only. One cannot, in such circumstances, truly give oneself up to the game. It was of the nature of a ritual and this is how I viewed it – a pleasant interlude but a ritual just the same.

I reached the end at last – or, at least, I thought I had. Cat indicated one final girl as I paused to take a long drink and splash some water on my face to cool off a little. I thought nothing of it, I had not yet spent for a third time and merely assumed that I had miscounted. The last girl was crouched at the edge of the divan presenting her pert backside towards me. I was instantly drawn to her yoni – it was perfect! The inner petals peeped out between the rounded outer lips in perfect symmetry. They were neither too long nor too short and free from any of the heavy wrinkles and creases that one sometimes encounters. I knelt behind this prodigy and gently separated the petals to view the jewel within. It was instantly clear to me that this virgin was truly overawed by the experience – there was no sign of the jewel, hiding, as it was, deep within its hood. Also, there was no telltale trace of moisture at her entrance. She shuddered at my touch.

I placed two fingers on the plump outer petals and pushed gently. I was delighted to see that this had the predictable effect of exposing more of those delicate inner lips to my gaze. Still pressing gently, I leant forwards and drew one of those deliciously fragrant flaps into my mouth, sucking upon it as gently as a newborn babe and lapping it my tongue. The girl wriggled slightly in appreciation so I repeated the process with the other side and then switched back and forth at will. After a few minutes of such treatment, her little jewel overcame its former reticence and peeped out from its hood as if viewing the world for the first time. Drawing upon the lessons of my former Persian concubine, I made no direct contact but instead, ran the tip of tongue along the sides and over the top of the hood. She gasped and stiffened. I thought for a moment that she had reached her peak and was somewhat surprised. Then I realised that it was just that her senses were so heightened at this point that every touch rippled through her with rising intensity.

I flicked my tongue into her – feeling that restricting web of maidenhood – and she groaned aloud. I flickered it in and out of her like a serpent tasting the air and she pushed back towards me to afford me greater access to her sweet depths. I reached forward then with both hands and cupped her firm breasts, gently teasing her nubbins into hard little pinnacles between forefinger and thumb while all the while running my tongue and lips around that perfect yoni. I then judged her ready for her initiation and rose behind her. She knew instantly what was coming and lowered her head onto her arms, raising her rump a little more in the process. The discovery of this perfect little treasure at the last had truly enchanted me. I cannot else explain why I chose, at this moment if no other, to be gentle.

I grasped my lingam and slowly stroked it between those perfect lips, nudging its slick, swollen head against her jewel. Her hips began to undulate very slightly in time with my sensual probing. With something approaching ecstasy, I eased the tip of lingam into the very portal of delight. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Cat watching me with an inscrutable expression. The girl whimpered as I pushed forward slightly but then, obviously remembering her training, thrust back at me. This time I felt that little membrane tear and heard the hiss of indrawn breath as the sharp pain took her. Then I was in. She opened like a flower. I reached under her and gently strummed my fingers on her button. She rolled her hips a little. I kept it slow, revelling in that tight, wet embrace. I glanced down and watched my lingam appearing and disappearing by turns. Her inner lips clasped me as I did so. They were darker than the rest of her and she was one of the darker hued girls. Her inner petals were almost black.

I picked up the pace and she matched me, urging me onwards. The delight I felt increased. Here was none of the artfulness that some of the girls displayed, she was living the moment with me. I felt the roaring in my ears and my legs felt weak. Her rump was bouncing now in time to my urgent forays. A guttural moan escaped her. I strummed harder. We peaked at the same instant. She thrashed and rolled as I yelled and pumped my scalding seed deep within that ready vessel. I felt the tremors or her inner muscles; saw her buttocks tighten and twitch before I collapsed on top of her. I kissed her neck and buried my face in her hair. It was only when I had recovered a trifle and could focus again that I saw a pair of large, brown, adoring eyes gazing back at me with dreamy satisfaction. The last virgin was Baljit.

1st January 1871

It has taken me some days to get used to my new domestic arrangements. Of course, it was a conspiracy. Cat was at the bottom of it, if that isn't too awful a pun. It appears that Baljit was convinced that I thought her ugly and would never choose her as my consort. Of course, this was far from the truth but there was no reasoning with the girl. The upshot of the matter was that Cat suggested that Baljit insinuate herself into the Grand Deflowering – after all, she reasoned, there was a vacancy and Baljit was certainly ready. My own feelings in the matter were entirely disregarded but I console myself that many young maids her age are married and have children at their breasts. Baljit has proved her devotion to me on numerous occasions and she and Cat are really my only true friends in this place.

Both now sleep with me each night but Baljit refuses all Cat's advances to play those female games of which Cat is so fond. Apparently, Baljit is repelled by the idea of lovemaking with another woman. Of course, she did not have the years of the boredom in the old Nizzam's seraglio to warm to her to the idea. Thus Cat has to resign herself to sharing me with Baljit but displays not the slightest hint of jealousy. It is, all things considered, an harmonious arrangement and one that suits me very well. Baljit brings a freshness and naivety that balances nicely with Cat's somewhat worldly-wise approach to matters of the flesh. It is the contrast of the virgin and the whore, although, to be fair, Cat is no common trollop. She rejoices in her body – and anyone else's that she can get her lascivious hands on. Baljit, on the other hand, is still quite shy and sometimes squirms with embarrassment when I spend time studying her delicious yoni.

It truly is a thing of great wonder and beauty and I sympathise with poor Cat that this prodigy should be denied her. It resembles nothing so much as an exotic flower: a dark orchid, perhaps. Cat removed the covering of downy fleece so that I should take Baljit for just another of the new recruits and the effect is quite stunning. I have instructed Baljit to keep it naked, the better to view this marvel. The outer lips are soft and silky to the touch with that wonderful plumpness that I find irresistible. The little jewel is hidden by a long hood and is quite large when teased forth from hiding. The inner petals are simply sublime; smooth and symmetrical and open at the slightest touch of my finger or tongue. I have taken to positioning Baljit over my face so that I may lap her while Cat rides upon my lingam. Baljit's heady fragrance and delighted little sighs are a powerful aphrodisiac and I fear that I spend almost at once when thus engaged. However, such is the power of her yoni over me that it takes me no time at all to regain my manly stature and continue to a second and even a third climax. Cat swears that my lingam grows by an extra inch or so whenever we disport ourselves thus.

Later that same month

Bad news has reached me from the northern borders. A particularly troublesome rogue by the name of Shohib Khan has captured my tame German engineers and is demanding an extortionate ransom. If he contented himself with the already generous sum on the ghooley chits, there would be no problem. However, the man is either mad or insatiably greedy and I cannot countenance his demands. Trouble has been fomenting in that area for some time now. Rumour has it that Shohib Khan has relations across the frontier in Afghanistan and, probably encouraged by successes there against the British, he has decided to stir things up here. There is nothing for it but to mount a punitive expedition, although I am not filled with an abiding sense of deep joy by the prospect. Warfare in the hill country is a chancy business. Each pass and defile offers a splendid opportunity for ambuscade and the wild tribesmen who inhabit that area are past masters at taking every advantage that is to be had from the awful terrain.

I summoned a council of war today and we discussed how best we might set about the task ahead. Cavalry is both a blessing and a curse in such fighting. One needs the mobility, of course, but in some places, only a mountain goat or a hairy-arsed Pathan can go. This inevitably means a pursuit on foot and this leaves the horse-holders vulnerable to attack unless one leaves a heavy screen to protect them. Of course, this, in turn, reduces the numbers available for the pursuit. It's a ticklish problem. We have resolved to go bull-headed straight for the valley where Shohib's people have their main villages. We thus hope to make them come to us rather than chase them through the high country. The obvious weakness of this strategy is that we shall probably have to fight our way through a succession of guarded passes unless we can find a way that they don't expect us to use. If only I had those bloody Germans' maps! Still, it can't be helped.

Fortunately, my second-in-command, Ramnesh Lal, has some experience of this sort of fighting and believes he knows a way around the main route. We have resolved, therefore to take something of a gamble and send the main body of the army to demonstrate in the passes while Ramnesh and I take three hundred of the best lancers through the back way. It's a huge risk, of course, but it seems better than waiting to be picked off piecemeal. The main army will bombard each pass with artillery before entering. The one good thing is that the rocky ground increases the effectiveness of the shells- stone splinters will kill and maim as effectively as shrapnel. I have ordered Baljit to stay at home and, for once, she has accepted my orders without arguing. All being well, the main body will march in two days and I shall follow with the Lancers a day or so later. We need to be sure that Shohib knows the army is coming. The Lancers will march by night and lay up during the day. In this way, we hope to distract our wily friend from out true intentions.

March 1871

We returned to the city yesterday, if not quite in triumph, at least victorious. My German friends are safe and well, if somewhat thinner than of yore. The campaign was bloody and the fighting as vicious as I have known in my time as a soldier. The main army turned the trick of attracting all the attention initially and they ably did their part with few casualties while giving Shohib's men something of a bloody nose. Unfortunately, our plan did not survive contact with the enemy. We must have been spotted at some point for, as we, made our way into the valley, we were ambushed by at least an equal number of tribesmen. What followed was highly unsatisfactory. There was nothing for it but that we must withdraw to the high ground. Thank the Lord I had taken the precaution of bringing along a half-battery of galloper guns for these three pieces surely saved our bacon. They were able to deploy on a slight reverse slope, out of range of the jezreels. From there, they kept up a steady fire to good effect and we were able to advance on foot under cover of the bombardment and take the tribesmen in the flank.

The battle lasted all afternoon and was brought to a conclusion only by the onset of darkness. Some very nasty skirmishing continued throughout the night with knife and sabre. The tribesmen had the distinct advantage in that they knew those hills like the backs of their hands. My boys stuck to their duty, though and although we suffered about a dozen casualties during the hours of darkness, we gave at least as good as we got. Then Shohib made a big mistake. He abandoned his defence of the main passes to rush back to protect the villages in the valley. By a stroke of good fortune, we were able to contact the main body by heliograph and had them force the pass straight away with the remaining cavalry and guns, the infantry following as best they could. We were hard-pressed for a few hours before the reinforcements could come up but, by then, we had established a position in some rocks on the southern shoulder of the valley.

Our Enfields out-ranged the old jezreels and were able to do some fearful execution before the beggars tried to rush us. About a thousand of them broke cover and hurled themselves towards our position. Had they but tried this even so much as a quarter hour earlier, I should not be writing this entry now but would probably be screaming my lungs out as they cut off my stones. However, poor old Shohib was not quite as enterprising as he needed to be and the whole pack of them were caught in open country by the arriving cavalry of the main army. We mounted up forthwith and joined in the mayhem. We rode them down, stabbing with lance and sabre and no quarter given. It was a massacre. Some got away by running up into the rocks and we shelled them to blazes. The infantry mopped up when, eventually, they arrived. We rounded up about six hundred survivors, including the head villain himself, and marched them into the largest village. There, I held a Durbar and read the riot act.