Desert Wind

This was me trying to write an old-timey bodice-ripper thing, like those historical dirty romances about pirates and kidnappings and highwaymen from ages ago. So that, except, um, group sex and whips and slaves and pirates and princes. So there you go! Also sort of a warning!

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The day they sold me to the prince a hot dry wind was blowing off the desert. I remember that wind, and that the sand was gritty on my skin. The sold me bare, bare all over, shaved between my legs as well as naked, clothed in nothing but chains, harsh metal shackles on my wrists and ankles. They sold me perfumed, and with oiled scented hair, and after each had taken his pleasure one last time in my mouth.

That was how they bade me farewell.

They lined up, and had my mouth one after the other, the whole crew, every last one. They made me suck on their manhoods until I coughed and my jaw hurt, but even so, it was a joy. I had come to like them taking their pleasure that way. I had come to like their hands in my hair, holding my head, and their groans and grunts as they thrust at my mouth. I had come to like having all of them at once, to feel the watching eyes of those waiting their turn as I sucked the men ahead of them.

Until a few short weeks earlier, I had been an innocent, and had never even dreamed of acts such as this between men and women. But now I knew. Now I had come to enjoy it, and to touch myself and take my pleasure, too, as I sucked on them. I had come to like the hard feel of them, the thick man taste, and the urgent insistence as they thrust into my mouth, and pulled my hair, and pushed me around, and also to like the sudden spurt of their seed when they were done and finished.

I liked what they did to my mouth.

I think I would have come to like it any way they made me have them, in truth, but this was the only way they had me. They only used my mouth so as to preserve my value as a slave.

They had captured me from an English sailing vessel, on a voyage to the East. I had been travelling to the Indies, for an arranged marriage to a man who had courted my uncle by way of letter. He had courted my guardian uncle, rather than me, so it was not a terrible thing for me to be kidnapped and taken off to another life. Even one such as this, where I was degraded and used by a pirate crew every day.

We had been crossing the ocean between Zanzibar and Goa when the pirates came and took me. They took me, and tore the clothes from my body, and smiled nastily at my nakedness. I was to be naked for the rest of the voyage, except for my chains, but by the end of it I had lost my shame and no longer cared. That first day I had been embarrassed, though. That first day they had slapped me and hit me and made me pleasure them with my mouth, and scared and ignorant and unknowing of what it was they wanted me to do, I had needed to be made to comply. They had made me, and by the time I had pleasured them all, I understood what they wanted, and was beginning to enjoy it, too. I had sucked, as they wished, and had them spill their seed hot and salty in my mouth, and they had seemed pleased enough by the time I had practiced on all twenty of them. They looked at my body, and put their fingers inside me, feeling my woman's place, and then smiled, and told one another they would sell me for a fortune.

And although their fortune was not much, sell me they did.

They sold me to a prince, and he had me bathed again, to wash the gritty sand away, and then, scented and smooth, I was taken to him.

And he looked, at me, and found me wanting, and gave me to his guardsmen.

All his guardsmen.

I could not have been happier.

I knelt there in front of the prince and pleasured his guards with my mouth. I pleasured them as the pirates had taught me, licking and sucking, moaning with a pretended joy that was not entirely pretending at the unspeakable joy of having them in my mouth. I licked at their shafts, and at the firm balls which hung beneath, and at the folds of skin on the undersides of the ends too, tasting all of them that I could. I pleasured them until they finished, and then I drank their seed, and then I begged them for more, to give me more. So they turned me onto my hands and knees and had me in other ways too. Ways I expected, ways my maids had whispered of, and which the pirates had threatened to do to me. Ways I expected, but had never had before, because I was an innocent, and still chaste, until that day. I had felt fingers inside me, my own and others, and I'd had men in my mouth, but nothing more.

The first time I was taken as a woman, ten men had me one after another. Ten men, which was a lot, but it was good, and gave me pleasure, and by the time I had ten I wanted more. I was had by ten men in my woman's place, which I had expected, but then they had me other ways, as well. Ways that I, in my innocence, had never dreamed were possible. They took me by my backside, by my back passage, and it was a shock, a rude painful shock to be had like that so unexpectedly, but it was a delight too, almost immediately. I knelt, sobbing, startled at what was being done to me, as the first pushed himself inside me there. I sobbed with pain and fear and disgust at myself and them, and then, quite suddenly, I sobbed with joy. I gasped with pleasure, feeling him hard and hot, filling me. Feeling pain, and then a sudden, desperate, wonderful delight.

I felt pleasure. And so I whispered that I wanted them. I whispered I wanted them all there, too.

I whispered so, and then I had them all, and they had me. And the prince watched, disapproving, for this was meant to be a punishment, a shaming, but it was actually my pleasure.

The prince watched, and found me wanting again, and this time had me whipped. I was chained before him, and flogged until my back bled.

I was flogged. I felt sharp cutting slashes of pain on my back, but I could also still taste his guardsmen in my mouth. I could feel blood dripping from my cuts, seeping down my bottom and legs, but I could also still feel an odd memory of the guardsmen inside me, pleasuring me, having me. A memory of their bodies against mine, at the same time as I could actually feel their seed seeping from me, too. Their seed seeping from between my legs, just as my blood seeped from my back. That, and what had already been done to me, that made the whipping oddly exciting. I hung in those chains, and looked at the prince, and sighed with pleasure as his men flogged me.

The prince found me wanting again. He had me unshackled, and taken down, and brought over to him, bleeding and weak and suffering. He ordered me strangled, for there was no hope for me to be shamed, ever.

I was strangled. I was to die. A man closed his hands around my neck, but I didn't care. My hands were free again, so I touched myself. I stroked myself, and pleasured myself, as the guardsman strangled me.

I was lost, I thought, this was to be my fate, but I was not so very upset. I had taken some pleasure here with the pirates and guardsmen, and that was enough for me. A little pleasure and then death was better than an arranged marriage to a sickly merchant in Calcutta.

I pleasured myself and felt hands on my neck, and oddly, those squeezing clenching hands excited me.

It excited me even as I grew faint.

I felt my pleasure grow.

I had thought I was lost, but then the prince's sister, who had watched all this in silence, spoke up. She said no, that they should spare me, that she would have me instead.

The prince agreed, and so the guardsman stopped strangling me, and the guards dragged me to his sister's chambers instead.

They dragged me, weak and confused, and put me on her bed.

There, I lay, and bled on her sheets, and she whipped me again, for hours. She had her guards hold me down and flogged me with a thin cutting cane until I screamed and wept and bled. She flogged me carefully, artistically, making me turn this way and that so she could reach better, and hurt me more. She beat me precisely, hitting me where it hurt me the most, beating the ends of my breasts and the insides of my thighs and my armpits and the soles of my feet. I was in unimaginable agony, beyond even what her brother's guardsmen had done to my back and backside, and that made her happy, I think. She wanted my pain. She delighted in my pain. She wanted to know she was hurting me terribly. She admired the cuts she was making, admired my torn, bruised skin, and she admired my screams and tears, too.

She whipped me unbearably, until I thought I would faint, but I pleasured myself all the same. I rubbed between my legs with my hand, as she flogged me, and moaned with pleasure as I did. And she watched me touch myself, and smiled, and understood why, and then she whipped me more, as I rubbed myself.

She flogged me until I was slashed all over, and then she put down the whip and licked at my cuts. She pleasured herself, as I was pleasuring myself, while she licked the blood from my torn skin. She licked my back. She licked my poor hurt breasts. She licked the grazes and bruises on my tummy. She licked the smeared blood from the wounds all over my body, and then she licked between my legs.

She licked between them and I had never felt such pleasure, even as every part of me still burned with terrible pain. I felt pleasure. I felt what I had never known, my climatic pleasuring, and then, when it was finished, she made me lick her the same way, too.

And after that I was hers. Hers forever, like I had never been anyone else's. And every night she whipped me, and then we pleasured one another with our mouths, because that was what my princess liked to do. And later, once we knew one another better, she sometimes let her guardsmen all have me too, because she knew how I missed that being done to me. And I was grateful, and enjoyed that too, and it was wonderful, but not as wonderful as her.