Of Pain and Delight Read Free

the deepest regions of her soaking honeypot.
    But she also knew that she must have him.
    ‘Well, my princess,’ he said, as he gripped his cock firmly at the root to force the devil to even more immensity, ‘who is to be lord and master tonight?’
    Sahria said nothing. Instead, she fell to her knees at his feet and took the hard stalk in her hand with a gentleness that was all too uncommon in her. She stared in wonder at the gnarled pole, astounded that her fingers could barely encircle its girth. She leant forward and kissed the bulbous head, before running her tongue around the thick knob and then finally taking him within the silky sheath of her young mouth.
    Suddenly he pulled from her heavenly grasp, his penis waving like a triumphant flagpole at the scene of a battle and, grasping his cloak around his body he swiftly unbarred the door and threw it open. ‘Princess,’ he announced firmly, ‘there can be no greater cruelty than denial, and I have denied you the feel of my weapon within your loins tonight. One day I will return. You will not know when, but on that day I will conquer you and abuse you into spasms of total ecstasy that you will never have dreamt possible. For now, you may have the last sight of that which will impale you, to fill your visions until my return.’
    So saying, the Prince of Persia once more drew back his cloak and allowed his penis to thrust into the open. Sahria tried to fight her desire to stare at it, not wishing to appear weak, but the temptation was too great and she couldn’t resist quickly glancing at the proffered prize. She swallowed hard, his intimate taste still on her lips.
    Sarne covered himself again with a flourish and left the room, pushing past the handmaidens who returned to stare in astonishment at the sight of their vicious mistress, kneeling, her eyes glazed and her trembling body racked with lust.
     
    Princess Sahria sighed to herself as she remembered the event, then threw her head to one side in anger. A year had passed since that time, during which she had vented her fury and frustrations in ever more salacious pursuits, but she never either forgot or forgave Prince Sarne of Persia. Her exasperation filled the palace so that even Al-Fahoud himself lived in fear of her rage, and kept well out of her way. Tales of her lascivious acts spread throughout the country. The men – and indeed the women – lived lives of paradox; extreme fear mingled with an intense desire to sample the delights and mysteries of the court of the princess of pleasure. Many, very many, were to be successful.
    What little light chose to creep into her dank prison through the tiny barred window was fading fast. Although time was beginning to have little meaning for her, Sahria felt it was too soon for night to embrace the cold walls of the palace with its silent shroud. A storm must be imminent, she thought, the heavens preparing to unleash their fury upon the mortals below with an anger that could, nevertheless, scarcely match her own. She liked the storms, the ferocious blasts of power engulfing all unfortunate enough to be without shelter. In happier times she would have rushed out into the rain, naked, offering herself to the sheer power and seeking to sate herself within the energy to soak up its strength.
    Not this time.
    As the first flash of lightning seared its white light across her vision she struggled against her bonds. The tightness of the leather around her wrists and ankles gripped her unforgivingly and the pain in her nipples and labia became intense as the thin slivers of chain tugged her tender flesh mercilessly. She cursed loudly. Oh, how the pathetic animals would suffer!
    The thunder crashed as if to echo her anger and then roared into the distance like a wounded beast.
    The lightning flashed again, this time much brighter than before. Sahria closed her eyes and gritted her teeth in frustration. She strained against her bonds and experienced a brief feeling of