Chapter Three - Instructions and Memories
Devon was away from the camp for another two weeks and during that time Aisha found that the ground beneath her feet shifted like sand in a breeze. Although the Colonel was away, Madhur has been commanded to remain. He smiled and bowed to his master, as this was what he wanted above all. He had deals to make and money to collect and slaves to sell. Being a natural entrepreneur, he had made sure that all valuable assets from the last battles had found their way to his skilled hands. Pretty girls taken from the rebel camps were to be sold off to traders, at a good profit and other plate jewels and gold were to be sold in the back street handlers and the money deposited in his accounts to the regimental bank, minus one half to be handed over in gold, to his master. Madhur had hoped for a greater prize, but the Colonel had not been forthcoming and had kept the rebel Aisha for himself.
This was a shock and dismay. The Colonel had always shared their conquests and it rankled.
He had been displeased and took out his anger on one of Fatima's camp whores and since returning to regimental quarters had selected the prettiest of the girls, destined for Durbar's back street brothels and houses, and had her installed in his own home on the south wall. There she stood, her eye furtive and looking for an escape.
"You are mine now. The quicker you grasp that reality you easier your life will be." Madhur growled and the girl looked downcast.
"What will you do with me?" The slender pretty-eyed girl asked. In truth, she was more than pretty but the journey had been hard on her. Bundled together with the 'spoils of war' with little food and water and the wandering hands of her captors had been almost too much to bear. The internal cat-fights too had drained her somewhat, as the more worldly women had already formed factions to bully the weaker girls. Madhur had spotted her and made sure she was unmarked and singled out upon arrival at Durbar.
" I will do what I want with you and you would be wise to be grateful. I picked you out and if you displease me, I can send you back. Do you know what is happening to the others in that wagon you arrived in?" Madhur smiled a predatory smile and looked at the girl.
"I know." Her reply was simple but a lie. She feared to know the answer, but Madhur delighted in outlining the fate of the women.
As the Colonel departed in the early morning, robbed of his ardour once again the previous evening by Aisha's skilfulness. She would come to him at the change of sentry, a vision of red. She divest herself of her sari, so he could gaze adoringly at her beauty. Although her firm was slender and toned, her breasts were like ripe pomegranates. When she walked to him, her pubis shone with oil, her pubic hair trimmed but still full. Her perfume robbed him of his senses. She would kiss him, undress him and stroke his prick to such rigidity. Each night she would show her submission to his prick by giving her cunny and arse. He could sustain his stiff more now, but she always coaxed the expulsion of his seed. Last night, she tantalised him further for as he was about to expel his seed, she took his prick in her mouth and sucked his prick and he convulsed into her throat. Each night, she would part and tell him that she was property.
A strange sensation gripped him, as he spurred his grey stallion away from the HQ in the early hours, on the endless patrols or summons from the General Staff, he felt a peculiar sense of satisfaction. A feeling he rarely felt, unless from Dante duels with his subordinates or the recent actions against rebels but now he could add a sexual satisfaction to his sense of well-being. When Aisha impales herself on his manhood, he did not feel the need to abuse her, take her from behind and roughly fuck her. She submitted to
him and him alone.
Colonel Charles Devon was a true English gentleman: a second son of a Lord, courageous, active, dashing and well used to ordering men about on his father's estate. Being the second son, he still carried out duties, bribing maids or occasionally coercing the younger wives of farm labourers to hitch their skirts for him and use up his adolescent arousal. Although often sexually excited, he knew not to
impregnate the unfortunate girls and would often expel himself pm their backsides.
Life was tolerable in his late teens but upon eighteen, a commission would be purchased and off he would go to war.
It was only when an older lady of a neighbouring estate took him under her wing, did he learn what sex was and how would shape him. She taught him power. She was a strong woman, with a dullard of a husband who liked to fuck the fat whores of Harrogate rather than his slender, smaller-breasted wife but she didn't mind.
She chose her men and women much more carefully. She chose men she could mould to satisfy her needs and women to serve her and submit to her bisexuality.
As Charles soon discovered, sex was power. Despite running the estate, managing cotton mills, and being at least outwardly a pillar of society, Lady Celia Somerset liked the riding crop, and she taught the young Charles how to use it on her maids and eventually on others including herself.
It was Charles's 18th birthday, and the farmers, lesser nobles and the neighbourhood estates had been invited to his party, his overly stern father even opened the cellar for the guests and after dancing, a generous meal and parlour games, Charles found himself out in the garden and came across the Lady Celia smoking a long cheroot,
"Your pardon Ma'am, I shall retire indoors and leave you in peace."
"Nonsense young man, sit with me and tell me something about yourself." The woman was older than Charles's usual choice, but she had a certain manner about her. That intriguing look and daring front split riding dress, tantalised him when he saw her ankle and shin in red stockings.
Celia was never coy and enjoyed shocking the polite society she dealt in. "It's my 18th today, Ma'am. I am of age now and soon to take my commission as a Second Lieutenant in the Indian Lancer regiment." Charles couldn't think of much else to say, that would interest the Lady. This woman was nothing like the others in his life.
"Tell me, how many young women have you given a good seeing to?" Lady Celia smiled stubbing out her cheroot.
Determined not to sound gauche in front of this captivating woman, "a few Milady." He smiled under his youth handlebar moustache.
"Oh well, you should try something other than household staff, young Charles!" She replied.
Charles knew a good thing when he saw it and pressed his advantage further,
"I would be grateful for your advice on this matter, Milady." Charles knew nothing of this eccentric, but incredible cigar smoking Lady but she was quick to bring into her world.
"Come and visit me next weekend, I shall send a letter to your father, requesting your visit on some farm business. He dares not refuse me, my estates are ten times the value of father's holdings. I would take your stock advice, as I find myself bereft of good breeding stock."
And so it began.
The following weekend, with his fathers urging and dressed in his Sunday best, Charles rode over to 'Rosieres', Lady Somerset's estate to begin his education.
For such a large house, Lady Somerset had only a small retinue, mainly maids and a formidable but deaf old butler, an outstanding cool and three kitchen maids and two young footmen. Before lunch, Celia Somerset was polite, engaging and although in her forties, still very attractive and with no children.
After lunch, they both retired to her private sitting room and Charles's instruction began.
Upon entering the comfortable panelled room, with a warm fire burning, Lady Celia pulled a tasselled bell rope to summon a maid and then upon entering, Lady Celia turned the key in the door and retook her place on the chaise lounges.
"Alice, the young gentlemen will be staying a few nights, as I instructed you earlier today. Are his rooms ready?"
Alice, a short, slender girl no older than Charles himself, shook her head. Charles regarded her, slight build but noticed that her maid's uniform was tightly fitted. It showed off her figure and more surprisingly her naked backside was completely uncovered.
He glanced at Lady Celica, who winked at him.
"You should submit for punishment: get my riding crop and bend over the chair."
The girl bobbed a perfunctory courtesy and marched quickly to a drawer in a nearby cabinet. Pulling an item
from the drawer, Alice retrieved a stiff black riding crop. Instantly Charles was fascinated with the girl's actions, he watched her return to her mistress and gingerly handed over the crop and then without further instruction, walked to a stout chair and put her hands on it and bent over provocatively. Charles could see her bare buttocks, with the merest hint of black pubic hair that covered her cunny.
"Young man," Lady Celia asked smiling a cat-had-got-the-cream smile, "please discipline my maid, for she has been most remiss!".
She held out the crop and Charles stood; walked over to Lady Celia, took the crop and walked up to the exposed buttocks. The maid looked over her shoulder and tensed herself.
"I have not performed my duties; I expect six of the best!" The maid sighed, already Charles could smell the young woman's cunny perfume in the air. She was getting aroused. He glanced back to Lady Celia,
"Do I strike at her?" He asked, still bewildered.
"Six and only six on her raw buttocks, please." The reply came.
Charles aimed the crop at the tight, tender right buttock and brought it down gingerly.
"No no... lay them on!" Celia tutted.
Charles gritted his teeth and delivered four hard swipes of the crop, two on each buttock.
"Oooooh," the maid cooed, and Charles was struck by the lack of screaming and the unmistakable musky smell of wet cunny,
Lady Celia, urging Charles on, watched her maid's reaction.
She wasn't disappointed.
"Ooh. Thank you Sir" she cooed. With each stroke, leaving a thin red line upon her white flesh, she cooed and wriggled suggestively.
Charles lashed out with the fifth stroke and became aware of two new events: his prick was stiffening alarmingly and even more surprisingly Lady Celia had risen from her seat, walked over to the maid and parted her skirts, to reveal her own naked and hairless cunny. As soon as the last crop stroke marked the reddened buttocks of the maid, Lady Celia grabbed a handful of the maid's hair and pulled it into her cunny. Surprisingly, the maid was not at all shocked by this nor did she struggle, as she gladly lapped at her mistress's sex. Not satisfied yet, Lady Celia looked at Charles,
"Well, what are you waiting for? Put your prick in this little whores' cunny and fuck her."
Without a moment's hesitation, he tugged at his breeches, popping the sturdy buttons, and pulled out his prick. With his left hand, he threaded two fingers into the maid's wet cunny and then put his head at her opening. The maid, sensing the imminent intrusion of her private parts, cooed her anticipation, then spread her legs to give him easier access. Burying his prick into her caused a muffled squeal but Lady Celia held the unfortunate maid's mouth to her sex and demanded she resume her oral pleasuring, despite her mistress's guest rogering her roughly from behind.
