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  • The Indian Prince Ch. 02

The Indian Prince Ch. 02

12

Mir Yusaf Adil met my limousine when it pulled up to what they said was the Sports House within the complex of pools and various game courts, in addition to stables and a polo ring, that was in fairly distant sight of the palace itself. The palace complex seemed to be huge—almost taking up, it appeared, half the territory of all of Balrampur.

"Come on through here, Mr. Townsend. I'll show you where the changing room is. And shorts only, please."

"Shorts only? Sun's pretty strong today."

"The Rawal sets the scenes around here. He's out there already without a shirt."

So, I just didn't shirt up in the locker room, but I did slap on the suntan lotion. It was fine with me. I was supposed to seduce this prince—and I didn't have anything to be ashamed of if he wanted to ogle my bare torso. It would enable me to cut closer to the chase in this assignment I had.

It turns out that the prince had a pretty impressive torso of his own, and it didn't hurt me in terms of getting in a mood to watch him playing. His mistress, who I had learned was a Bollywood actress going by the single name Aruna, sat beside the court at a table under an umbrella that the prince and I retreated to after the odd-numbered games. The rest of the retinue in attendance had to stand at attention in the sun in a semicircle around the table and play statue the entire match. Only Adil and General Sungar had the privilege of standing in the shadow of the umbrella—but they too played statue unless and until there was something the prince wanted from them.

Aruna sat there in a sky blue sari and those big-lens sunglasses, jangled her gold bangles on both wrists and ankles, and sipped on whatever pink-colored drink they kept exchanging for a new one before she hit bottom while taking little drags on a cigarette in a gold-plated holder. She looked extremely bored and not at all "there." As far as looks, though, she was quite "there."

I was halfway through the match—that was hard fought, but with the prince "miraculously" winning every strategic point—before I realized that Aruna was subtly changing her position. She was slouching farther back in her chair, with her hips forward in the seat, and the folds of her sari were progressively separating and inching off her long, long legs. Well into the second set, she was widening her legs. Her pubes were shaved in a precise triangle.

I didn't know whether Aruna was flashing for the prince or for me. I certainly hoped that the prince either assumed it was for him—I was quickly learning that he assumed everything was for him—or that he didn't mind sharing the sights.

At the end of the match, the prince just stalked over to Aruna, snapped his fingers, and the two of them, with the whole entourage in tow except for the Kshatriyas, Mir Yusaf Adil, walked off toward the Sports House. No "thank you for the match," or "you played well," or "get out of my sight" from Bhadur Khan, the Rawal, which I thought was a bit brusque of him. He did win, and I did make him look good doing it, so I couldn't see that he had a beef about anything—except maybe Aruna's exhibitionism. But that was her, not me. I didn't have my tongue hanging out or anything. Aruna didn't even glance my way, so I guess her show was for him.

"Do you ride?"

I looked around at Adil. For a brief moment I wondered if he was asking if I topped, and I wondered what was the magic answer that would set well with the prince. But then the Rawal's adviser brought focus to the question.

"The horses? Do you ride; play polo? I thought you might like to take a look at the stables and at the horses before you go back to the Sports House and shower. You did quite well at tennis, thank you. I could see that you were doing what needed to be done—and that perhaps you didn't need to."

"I have ridden horses, yes," I answered. "But usually only when there is no other form of transportation available. I normally like to fly."

"The Rawal likes to fly too. Perhaps you are thinking that flying is his sole interest in you?"

"I think I have been well briefed," I answered. At that point I wasn't sure that the prince had any interest in me at all. He didn't speak to me at all during changeovers, and I didn't get the looks of interests from him that usually clued me that a man was interested. He had been quite rigid and brusque with me, actually. But I did need to establish with Adil that I was available.

"So, you will know what is expected? And you remember that the prince must have his way in all matters? I do what I can for the interests of your country here. I don't think either your country or I would want there to be any misunderstandings."

"No misunderstandings. But I don't think I particularly impressed the prince."

"Don't let his manner deceive you. And when I asked about whether you rode, did you perhaps get the wrong first impression?"

"Yes, perhaps. But the answer is that I don't usually ride, I'm usually ridden, but if topping is what is called for—"

"Very good; that won't be a problem here. Part of the tension in our closed society is that most of the men of the court like to do the riding."

I gave him a glance, and he was smiling wryly. I certainly hoped that was the case with him as well.

"Come," he continued, "let us take in the stables. As you can imagine, we are quite proud of our thoroughbreds. And polo?"

"I haven't even watched. I'm afraid I know nothing about the game—other than that it requires a lot of skill."

"But if the Rawal wanted you to play?"

"I would play. And he, naturally, would win. If he asked me to ride, I'd ride. If he wanted to ride, I'd be ridden."

"Except, of course, the Rawal never asks. He demands. He also, I must add, never plays. Nothing is just play for him." That stung a bit, but Adil just smiled and led me toward the stables. I was actually grateful. He was educating me, which probably was the whole purpose of this little walk alone with him. And he was doing it as subtly and sensitively as I could expect.

When we came back, he guided me into the locker room again and handed me a towel—and then stood there and watched me as I showered. At first I had to turn away from him as best I could, because I found him highly desirable—and he'd be able to see that in his effect on my body. I had melted to his touch on my bare shoulders as he guided me around the stable area.

"No, please, Mr. Townsend. Do not turn from me. It is my duty to report to the Rawal what is on offer."

"Very well," I answered, and I turned full frontal to him, still embarrassed that I was hard—and getting harder under his scrutiny. If it had any effect on him, though, he didn't betray it.

"Thank you. Turn please and bend over."

I did so, and almost immediately he was behind me, with the palms of his hands on my buttocks.

"Hold them parted, please."

As I complied, I heard the snap of the latex glove, and thus I wasn't surprised—responding to the invasion with only a grunt—when I felt first one, and then a second, cold, gloved finger pushing into my channel. I felt his hand squeeze one of my butt cheeks when he had finished his examination, which I marked as the only sign from him that wasn't clinical. I felt the disappointment that he hadn't moved to invade me with more than his gloved fingers.

"Thank you. Tight, but it quickly opens. And clean, as requested. You may dry off and dress now."

The voice came from across the shower room, at the locker room door. When I stood and turned, he was gone.

When I came out and dried, he handed me a diaphanous white caftan he called a sherwani, telling me that was all that I needed, and then we padded down a corridor to a set of large, ornate-wood double doors, guarded by two burly guards in the elaborate Balrampur military livery. The two guards opened the door and, nudging me forward, Adil disappeared.

I was standing in a large, ornately furnished room, with so much vibrant color everywhere that I had difficulty focusing. The walls appeared to be white marble, as was as much of the flooring as I could see around the edges of Oriental carpets. Fabric pillows were strewn everywhere—in different, brilliant colors, probably all silk—and a king-sized platform bed between marble pillars draped with red silk stood in the middle of the room.

General Ambedkar Sungar was standing in the shadows, stiff and arms crossed, looking every bit like a stuffed eunuch in the background of an Arabian Nights film. His face was set in what I was beginning to think was a permanent scowl.

The prince and Aruna were on the bed, in the altogether other than Aruna's bangles on her wrists and ankles and a gauzy scarf around her torso that wasn't so thick that I couldn't make out one rouged nipple set in a pendulous breast or Prince Bhadur Khan's ringed hand covering the other under the scarf.

Aruna wasn't wearing her huge sunglasses now. She was wearing a smile and she was looking at me with that smile as I stood just inside the doorway—the doors of which were shut in simultaneous motions by the two guards. I could see the outline of the front of the prince's body, because he was larger and darker than the actress, but she was lying stretched out on his body, both of which were propped up by a sea of pillows. Both were facing me.

The prince tipped Aruna's body up to show that his cock was buried in her ass. The lips of her other opening were rouged and both that and her mouth seemed to be pouting at me. She had a nicely rounded belly, with what appeared to be a ruby in her navel. My first instinct was to want to fish that out with my tongue, which I bet was exactly her thought in having put it there.

"Join me. Inside her," That's all the prince said, and it didn't sound like a request.

I pulled the sherwani over my head, and stood there for a moment as I dropped it at my feet. Aruna laughed a low, throaty laugh, and I saw her lick her lips.

Although this was unexpected, I was ready for it. I'd been on the rise since Adil watched me shower, and the view of the prince, who at least from what I could see of the base of his cock was well hung, fucking the gorgeous, almost alabaster-skinned actress in the ass, brought me to full staff.

Something about the way the Rawal had given his command made me decide I wouldn't want him to have to repeat it, so I strode over to the bed and climbed up onto it on my knees and crawled over their bodies. I leaned down and tongued around Aruna's navel to let her know I could have claimed the ruby with my teeth if I'd wanted to, and her rounded little belly shook like a bowl of Jell-O. I then lifted my head and took her lips in mine, while I fisted my cock to between her rouged nether lips. I found her clit with it and rubbed the tip of my staff up and down there until I felt her shudder and her lips—both above and below—open wider to me and she took my tongue lightly between her teeth.

I allowed the head of my cock to lower to between her labia and press there ever so slightly until Aruna moaned in anticipation of the long, deep slide. Then I dragged it back to rub against her clit, eliciting the same moan. Dragging back down, poising, and then the long sheathing as she shuddered and groaned.

I could feel him as I entered her, churning in her other channel, and I worked to adjust my rhythm to his as I ran my hands up her sides and under the scarf. I buried my face between her breasts and I could feel the prince squeezing them. Aruna twitched as he gripped her nipples between thumb and forefinger. He tugged at my hair and moved my face up and over her breast and I sucked on her nipple.

"Both. The ass," he hissed. And I accommodated him, pulling my hips back, as her body trembled form the loss of me, and then moving my cock to Aruna's ass with my hand, finding the base of the prince's cock still there, and slowly working my cock in over his. It was truly cock rubbing on cock inside her now. That lasted only a few moments. I felt Aruna shaking uncontrollably, and I knew she was trying to suppress groans, but wasn't completely able to do so.

I felt him pull out of her ass and then move from underneath her. He was gone from us, and I moved my cock from her ass back to her cunt. She murmured her thanks. I felt the prince's hands on my hips, so I was prepared for what was coming. But still I gasped and arched my back as he worked his cock inside me.

I fucked Aruna in the cunt and Bhadur Khan fucked me in the ass for several minutes. The prince said nothing for that time. He just grunted and groaned and did what he could do to reach for my tonsils from the inside. Aruna was moaning in measured waves that matched my rhythm—which matched the prince's rhythm. Women weren't my favorite, but I knew what to do, and she seemed to be enjoying it. I wasn't minding the back channel work myself. He was both long and thick—and in good shape.

"Aruna. Leave."

I pulled out to help Aruna squirm out from underneath me.

When we were alone, the prince pulled out of me and signaled with the movement of his hands that I was to turn on my back, which I did. He was standing between my legs, and I reached up with my hands and cupped his pecs—which obviously wasn't what he wanted, because he backhanded me hard across the cheek, with the ruby in the big ring on his finger slashing a line of blood under my cheekbone, and knocked my arms to the side.

I laid back then, leaving it for him to show me what he wanted. What he wanted was to piston me deep and thump on my chest and abs with his fists and twist my nipples until he brought tears to my eyes.

My second mistake was to suggest he might want to lighten up, which only upped the action. His cock was big enough, but he moved a hand down there as well, and slid fingers in around his cock and stretched my channel to where I was afraid I'd be split. If he'd wanted to double me with one of the guards at the door, it could have been done. And having been with him inside Aruna, I wouldn't have been surprised if that was where we were going. I needed to make him explode and simmer down.

So, I went in the other direction, pumping him back hard with my hips and rotating my channel on his cock and being very vocal. This eventually made him come inside me with a huff on each of three final plunges.

Then he just backed up, turned around, and headed for the doors that I had entered. I gasped, I hoped not audibly, when I saw his back, buttocks, and the backs of his legs as he walked away. There were welts on them. Taking into account the demeanor he'd been showing me, I had visions of an ascetic monk, flagellating himself in a barren stone cell. This was one weird prince.

The double doors opened simultaneously as he approached them and then closed again in his wake. Just like on the tennis court. No smile or frown or a word to give me any clue at all what the sex had done for him. Just like that, he was gone.

I was alone in the dimly lit room then. But not really alone, I realized, as I sensed movement off in the shadows. The seemingly stuffed eunuch came to life. General Sungar moved over toward the bed. I froze when I saw the cruel leer on his face and the riding crop in his hand. Drumming in my brain was Allard's admonishment to avoid him, if possible, but to accommodate him, if necessary. There was no avoiding him here and under these circumstances, so, as he approached, I smiled up at him and widened my legs as he grabbed for one of my ankles.

His other hand went up into the folds of the draperies of one of the stone pillars at the bottom corner of the bed, and I tensed in recognition as he extracted and pulled down black nylon ankle restraints. I just laid there and watched as he trussed up, first one of my legs, and then the other to a restraint pulled down from the other pillar. I made the mistake of trying to raise my torso then, thinking to draw him down to me to show that I would obey whatever he asked of me, but he caught me on the chin with a slap of the riding crop and I fell back onto the bed as my head snapped back.

He didn't have to say a word. I knew what was coming—and that it was a test of whether I would just go with it.

He came around to one side of the bed and, resigned, I extended my arm to be restrained by a cuff brought up from the bed frame at the side. I hadn't quite prepared for his next move. I assumed he would fuck me then, just to show me the power he had in this palace. But he didn't do that right away. He stood between my legs and began to flick at my cock and balls with his riding crop. The more I writhed—more at the fear of what might be than what he was actually doing—the harder and faster he flicked. I tried to contain myself, tears forming in my closed eyes, but, not being able to help myself, I howled my pain and frustration. That was what he was waiting for. I heard him laugh, and then I opened my eyes and looked down my body to see him jack up his sherwani to reveal a hairy belly and pubes and a thickish, hard cock.

His thrust inside me was powerful, brutal, and all consuming. When he was fully saddled, and I could feel the tickle of his hairy balls against the tender skin of my inner thighs, he held. All of my senses went to the throbbing of his thick staff inside me, wondering, fearing, how brutally he would pump me.

When the fucking began, it was total, his bulb finding air, fully evacuating, and then slurping just inside to the rim of the glans, a gentle rotation, and then the long slide to full sheathing. This was followed by another total withdrawal. Me gasping at both points—the denial and the total possession.

He fucked me slowly, with little flicks on my chest, belly, cock and balls with his riding crop. His flow was long, drowning, delivered as deep inside me as he could reach. As cruel as he was, I wanted it to go on and on. I told him so—not just because I was mindful of my instructions to accommodate him, but also because I wanted him to take me again, there and then. He laughed a low, guttural laugh.

"I was going to take from you again, anyway," he growled.

And then he did.

Finally done, he simply released me from my bonds and turned and left the room via a small door at the back of the room. I moved my body up to where I was fully on the bed and lay there, moaning, and eventually dozed off.

When I was fully awake again, I waited there, wondering what was going to happen next. Nothing did. I seemed to have been forgotten. With a groan, I pulled myself off the bed and leaned down and scooped up the sherwani I'd come in with. I shrugged into it and walked toward the doors I had entered. Just as for the prince, they opened for me as if automatic. When I got to the other side, though, I saw that it was Indian automatic, where human power was cheaper and less complicated than anything technical.

I asked the guards who had opened the door which way was to anywhere I should be going, not knowing where I was going. But I thought that, if I got back to the locker room, I could dress in my street clothes and maybe, while I was doing that, give some thought on how to get back to the station and let Roger know that my usefulness was over. The prince obviously was a one-night stand type of guy and had taken what he wanted from me and had now lost interest—if he'd ever been interested in more than just getting his rocks off with someone new each time.

Of course neither of the guards responded to my questions. They undoubtedly had been told that I wasn't really even there—and they only kept their cushy jobs on either side of these doors because they did exactly what they were told.

I found that I knew my way back to the locker room, but I didn't make it there. As I was walking down the corridor, I heard a woman's voice—Aruna, I presumed—really going to town in angry Hindi. I'd started to learn the language, but there was no way I was keeping up with what she was jabbering about. When she screamed, I instinctively turned and opened and door to the room where I thought the scream was coming from.

12
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