Harold Saves Her Husband Part 01
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Harold Saves Her Husband Part 02 free porn video
Harold Saves Her Husband Part Two
Copyright Oggbashan November 2013
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
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“Why is it called The Dancing Room?” Lisa whispered to Queen Serena. I could hear Lisa’s question and Serena’s reply.
“He couldn’t call it a Ballroom, Serena whispered back. “We, and particularly he, don’t do that sort of dancing. Dancing is mainly a sexual display for men only. You will notice that you and I are the only women in this group.”
When we reached the Dancing Room it was obvious that this was a place for sexual titillation. The wall paintings, the erotic statuary and the furnishings were overtly sexual, celebrating dance as a means of seduction.
We four sat on cushioned gaddis. The rest of the company spread themselves on cushions against one wall. Musicians in a curtained gallery began to play, softly at first, then louder with a sinuous rhythm. Veiled dancers entered quietly from both ends of the room until the floor in front of us was covered with silk swathed bodies that began to writhe to the music.
The music became more insistent and the dancers’ veils were discarded. Their long hair whipped around them as they gyrated. Their hips thrust aggressively towards us.
One dancer appeared from the mass. As she did, another dancer pulled away some of the silken material to reveal a finely muscled midriff. All our eyes were drawn to her navel as she wriggled sensuously. Another length of material was removed to show her legs in translucent pantaloons decorated with gold coins that clinked as she danced.
She was joined by three other dancers, similarly revealed. All four positioned themselves before the four gaddis and directed their dancing at each individual notable. They gradually came closer and closer until they were within touching distance. Their midriffs wiggled in front of our faces for a few seconds before they retreated to be replaced by another four dancers who repeated the exhibition.
Soon all the men and the two women were confronted with almost naked dancers clothed only with gold embroidered panties. The jiggling breasts were mesmerising.
Lord Mohan clapped his hands. The dancers stopped before retreating a few yards.
“Honoured guests,” Lord Mohan said, “That is as far as I am prepared to let my dancers proceed in front of ladies. I suggest that we withdraw and let the dancers continue to the eventual climax which might offend you…”
I felt that Lisa might object that she could watch anything. I touched her arm. She nodded.
Lisa and I left with Queen Serena. Outside the Dancing Room Pushpa and Serena’s other female attendants were waiting.
“Mohan likes in-your-face sex,” Serena said. “We shouldn’t deprive him. While he’s busy we can make our own plans. Pushpa? Is there anywhere safe we can talk?”
“I think so, your Majesty. Harold’s friends tell me that there is one room that doesn’t have secret spy holes. It’s rather small but…”
“Take us there,” Queen Serena ordered.
Pushpa was right. The room was small. It was a dressing room, or probably a wardrobe, off Queen Serena’s suite. With the five of us in there we were touching each other. Lisa’s crinoline was jammed against my legs.
“OK, Pushpa. What have you found out?” Serena asked.
“It’s rather what I haven’t found out. King Vishaladeva isn’t held in any of the rooms of the palace that Harold’s friends have access to. They suspect that he might be in the old watchtower that is supposed to be derelict because they have seen men guarding it and food being taken into it. That hadn’t happened until after the King was k**napped. However they can’t be sure. It might be a trap designed to catch us. They are still listening for any clue to the King’s whereabouts but they suspect that very few people actually know about the k**napping.”
“What about the attack on us?” Lisa asked.
“That’s due tomorrow evening. You and the ladies accompanying Serena, but NOT the Queen, nor Harold, nor me, are to be invited to the zenana for folkloric entertainment. While there you will be served d**gged drinks. When you fall asleep you will be tied up and held in the zenana. Shortly before that happens, or at the same time, Harold will have been taken prisoner. He will be taken to the Goddess’ temple to face the ordeal. One of the priestesses related to Mohan doesn’t believe that Harold is beloved of the Goddess and intends to prove he isn’t by subjecting him to the ultimate test – the Ride to Heaven.”
Pushpa held up her hand to stop Lisa questioning her.
“Queen Serena, Lisa and I will be guests of the Dowager Lady, Mohan’s elderly mother. We should be safe with her. She doesn’t approve of her son’s activities. We might even find that she could be a willing ally in our search for the King.
I have made plans with Harold’s friends, the Goddess’s worshippers. First, the d**gged drinks will be switched. Our ladies will have unadulterated drinks. Their intending captors will be the ones to be d**gged and they will also have been considerate enough to bring with them the bonds that can be used to tie them up. Once the zenana is secure some of the Archers can visit the watchtower, possibly disguised as zenana ladies, and find out whether the King is inside. If he is, they will smuggle him out to the John Company encampment. If he isn’t, they might be able to find out from the guards where he might be.”
“The Ride to Heaven?” Lisa interrupted. “How dangerous is that?”
“I’m sorry Lisa, and Harold. It is very dangerous and usually fatal. It is used to select the next Chief Priestess. The failure rate, and fatality rate, is about nine out of every ten riders. The outcome is supposed to be decided by the Goddess herself but I suspect that there is some secret mechanism known to senior priestesses that allows them to choose who shall live and who shall die. Harold, of course, will be supposed to die. Ambika is the current Chief Priestess but even she doesn’t know how the Ride to Heaven works. The candidates for the post of Chief Priestess are d**gged u*********s before the ordeal. Harold won’t be. The plotters intend that he will know exactly how he will die.”
“But!” Lisa protested.
“There is a but… Almost all the Goddess’s worshippers and priestesses are on Harold’s side. They will do everything they can to save Harold. Can we trust them? If Harold isn’t k**napped and apparently out of action we have little chance of finding the King. Mohan thinks that Harold is the real danger. He doesn’t think that any woman is a threat to him. Once Harold is neutralised Mohan will relax and that will give the rest of us a chance. I think we can trust the Goddess’s worshippers but Harold must decide. It is his life we are staking.”
“I’ll trust my friends,” I said, “because you need the opportunity that will give you.”
I kissed Lisa before she could protest.
“Sorry, Lisa,” I said. “I know that you, Serena and Pushpa can take advantage of my absence. The King is more important than I am.”
Lisa objected but was persuaded. We modified the plans slightly. As soon as I disappeared, the Archers would try to take the watchtower. If they found the King they would be free try to rescue me before I faced the ordeal of the Ride to Heaven. If not? They would have more time to search and/or interrogate the watchtower’s guards.
The next morning started slowly. Lord Mohan didn’t appear until nearly noon. He and his nobles appeared worn and tired. Some of Lisa’s noble attendants also seemed exhausted. When asked, one of them admitted that acts of sexual congress had continued all night long until almost all the men were completely spent.
About one o’clock a messenger came for me. He conveyed Lord Mohan’s request that I meet him in the gun room to discuss improving his sporting arms. I couldn’t refuse. I suspected that this was a preliminary to my a*****ion. I warned Lisa and Pushpa. Pushpa would tell Ambika if Ambika didn’t already know.
The messenger led me by an unfamiliar route to the edge of the zenana’s outer wall. He pointed along the wall.
“The gun room is the first door after you pass through the passageway just around that corner, Prince Harold. Lord Mohan is inside waiting for you. Excuse me. Lord Mohan has asked me to bring one of his guns that was being cleaned. I have to fetch it now.”
The messenger turned on his heels and left me. I walked to the corner and turned into a narrow passageway. Just beyond the passageway ahead of me there were several zenana ladies examining material displayed on a table. Three of them were holding a sari length up to the light. I walked towards them, intending to pass to their left at the end of the passageway. I turned straight into another group of ladies holding up more material. Behind them I glimpsed a shrouded palanquin with women porters standing ready.
The ladies ran towards me, enveloping me in folds of silk. The other ladies moved quickly behind me to cut off my retreat with their length of silk. Before I knew what had happened I was cocooned in layer after layer of silk being swiftly tightened around me. My belt was unfastened, my sword and gun whisked away. I was just able to sense long scarves being tied around my encumbered body and a knotted scarf was thrust between my teeth.
I was pushed over to be caught by many hands. My legs and ankles were tied before I was carried to be thrust between the curtains of the palanquin. Face down, my head was clamped between silk clad thighs. More scarves tied me down to the base of the palanquin.
“Breathe deep, Englishman,” a sultry voice said. “I can cut off your breath just like this…”
The thighs squeezed around my head. She was right. She could cut off any air reaching me.
“Now relax and enjoy.”
Her hands pulled my head to rest against her silk sheathed yoni.
I felt the palanquin begin to move. I hoped that my a*****ion would give Lisa and Serena the opportunity they needed. I hoped that Ambika’s and her helpers would rescue me in time. With my silk-swathed mouth and nose pressed against my captor’s yoni I was only too aware how vulnerable I was. Her hands were stroking the silk around my head. Sometimes those hands would pull me hard against her, cutting off my breath. If she wanted to kill me now I was completely helpless wrapped tightly in layers of silken saris.
Even the jolts as the palanquin bearers turned corners and mounted steps were a risk to me because my own weight thrust my face against my captor’s warm yoni. Despite myself my lingam hardened.
The transit seemed interminable. When we began to descend my breathing could ease as my body slid slightly away from that warm damp threat. Finally the palanquin came to rest. My captor swung a leg over me.
“Wait there, Prince Harold,” she said. “You have to. I’ve given you no choice. Just wait.”
Once she had left I tried to struggle. My frantic writhing was useless. My captor and her assistants had tied me too tightly inside the enveloping saris and then lashed me to the palanquin’s webbed base. Exerting my full strength gave me little more than an inch of movement and seemed to tighten the knots holding me helpless. I relaxed and strained my ears for any clue about what might be happening around me. I thought I heard faint scuffling and the sound of silken d****ries swishing nearby.
“Now it is your turn, Prince Harold,” my captor announced. “Everything is prepared for you.”
Many hands untied the bonds holding me to the palanquin. Many hands lifted me out, carried me, lifted me upright, placed my feet carefully and stood me leaning against a hard surface. Many hands bound me to what seemed to be a round pillar. A few hands slackened the wrappings around my head gradually letting a dim light reach my eyes before the final layer of richly scented silk was slid away. I could see but I was still tightly gagged.
My eyes gradually adjusted to the light of many flaming torches flickering in a large pillared vault that extended into darkness on all sides. I was indeed tied to a pillar, my feet standing on the edge of its base. Facing me were five women, tied as tightly as I was, each to her own pillar. All were gagged. Four wore flaring blue skirts. One was dressed in a green and gold embroidered sari. I recognised Ambika’s eyes and forehead above her tight gag.
Beside Ambika stood my captor, dressed in a vivid red flared skirt. Ambika had warned me that a red skirt would be dangerous for me and that blue skirts would be safe. Something had gone wrong. Ambika and the ‘safe’ blue-skirted priestesses had been captured. I was in real trouble. Unless Lisa and Serena could find and release the King, no one would rescue me and my four allies.
“Prince Harold, perhaps I should introduce myself,” my captor said. “Although I have been a priestess of the Goddess, actually I serve another Goddess, not yours. I am the Priestess of Kali in her destructive death-dealing attribute. My real name, not the name that Ambika knew me as, is Kali on Earth. You should bow to acknowledge my embodiment as Kali but you are excused at present. Your obeisance will be required later.”
Kali walked over to Ambika’s restrained body.
“This fool spoke too freely in front of priestesses she thought were hers. They weren’t. They’re mine. So are these.”
Kali gestured at another woman previously hidden in the shadows. That woman came forward holding out my Colt’s revolver and sword. She buckled both around Kali’s body, struggling to support their weight as she tightened the gun belt around Kali’s waist, much slimmer than mine.
The result was ridiculous. My sword stuck out sideways at an angle. My revolver holster was canted by her hip bones so that the revolver’s handle dug into Kali’s side. She would have real difficulty if she wanted to draw either of the weapons.
“Now, Prince Harold, you must wait. When I am informed that your English ladies and Queen…” Kali almost spat that word “…Serena’s attendants have been secured we will proceed to your obeisance and introduce you to the Ride to Heaven. I know that Ambika has told you about that. What she couldn’t tell you, because she didn’t know, is that the priestesses of Kali control the result of the ride. Ambika was a mistake. She should have died with the other aspirants to be Chief Priestess to the Goddess. We don’t know what went wrong. The Ride won’t malfunction when you take it. Ambika will watch so that she’ll know exactly what will happen to her when she follows you. Now I must leave you for a while. I have an appointment with the Dowager Lady. She will be expecting me to be there before your wife arrives. Your wife and that stupid bitch Serena will join you shortly. Meantime? I’ll let my most loyal followers amuse themselves with you.”
Kali swept out of the room. Most of the other priestesses left too but about a dozen stayed. Four of them approached my pillar.
“Prince Harold,” one of them said sarcastically, “your position must be uncomfortable and inconvenient. We’ll make it just a little easier.”
She laughed.
“Easier for us, that is, not for you.”
She and the other two loosened the silk scarves tying me to the pillar. One grabbed my ankles and pulled hard. I slid down the pillar, banging my backside against its plinth. My still tightly-swathed legs were extended in front of me. My gagged head was now below the priestesses’ waists.
Another one of the three removed some of the layers holding my gag in place. I could breathe more easily but my mouth was still stuffed with silk. One of the priestesses whispered to the others.
“That’s a good idea,” the first priestess replied. “We don’t want those stupid women to see what happens to you. Their imagination will be much more inventive.”
The four left me to tightly blindfold Ambika and the four blue-skirted priestesses. When they returned to me the lead priestess raised her d****ries above her waist revealing a naked, shaven yoni. She placed one leg on my shoulder, transferred her weight, and then her other leg pressed on my other shoulder. Her friends held up her skirts as she wrapped her legs and arms around my pillar. Her yoni spread open as she thrust it against my face. I took a deep breath through my nose before her warm flesh closed over my nostrils and mouth.
She bucked hard against the pillar, banging my head against the stone. She used her fingers to hold the yoni’s lips tightly sealed so I couldn’t breathe. I tried to bite, anything to get freedom for a breath of air. The silk in my mouth made my bite wholly ineffectual. When the priestess felt my mouth move she thrust harder. I could feel my lungs straining for air, my face reddening with lack of oxygen. I thumped my swathed legs on the stone floor. I was unable to prevent her from doing whatever she wanted.
At last she leaned back. I panted through my nose grateful for the air I desperately needed. A few seconds later her yoni sealed me in its pitiless embrace. Now it was wet as well as warm. Her fluids began to dampen the silk over my mouth. Again she took me to the edge of u*********sness before relenting.
How long she continued to torment me I have no idea. I was never u*********s but all I could know was that inexorable yoni swallowing me time and time again. I couldn’t sense anything else, not the pillar I was tied to, the stone I was sitting on, the silken material holding me helpless, even my own body. All I knew was that I was drowning in her yoni, surrounded by her yoni, sinking into her yoni and swallowed whole by it.
Finally I could breathe again for a few seconds as that priestess had satisfied herself. But another one soon replaced her and I had to endure being suffocated by another yoni.
After the third and fourth priestesses had enjoyed humiliating me I was nearly u*********s. My gag was soaked with their juices and my face was dripping with them. I shook my head as far as my bonds would let me. My eyes took in the bound, gagged and blindfolded blue-skirted women. Our rescue attempt seemed doomed.
While I was being used as a sex toy the other priestesses had left the room. The four using me were alone. They were standing in a close group whispering together.
A familiar face peered around a pillar. It was Lisa. She put her finger to her lips. I thought that a distraction would help. I groaned and thumped my bound legs on the floor. I couldn’t make much of a noise but it was enough. The four priestesses looked at me.
Lisa led a rush of the Archers. The four priestesses were swamped by fit active Englishwomen who tied and gagged them mercilessly before they could raise an alarm. The priestesses were silk bound bundles struggling helplessly on the floor. Ambika and her blue-skirted allies were released.
Lisa kneeled beside me.
“Sorry, Harold.” She whispered. “We found out this was going to happen, but too late to warn you. Ambika and her friends knew they would be rescued by us. Their capture, and yours, has made Kali and her colleagues overconfident. We have imprisoned all those women who were left with you. If our plan is to succeed we have to leave you as a prisoner.”
I shook my gagged head. Lisa kissed my yoni-slicked forehead.
“You are too effectively bound to object, aren’t you? We are going to replace Ambika and her friends, but we haven’t got anyone who could be sufficiently like you to deceive Kali. Look.”
Ambika and her four blue skirts were stripping down to their underwear. With the help of many of the Archers the four red skirted priestesses who had used me were being dressed in blue skirts and tied, gagged and blindfolded, to the pillars vacated by Ambika’s friends. One of the Archers was dressing as Ambika.
Once the Archer was gagged and blindfolded, the resemblance was total. Her bonds were apparently tight but she could release herself easily. Her gag was loose. Her blindfold was a single layer she could see through.
Ambika, wearing a red skirt, led her allies, Lisa, and the Archers out of the room through a concealed doorway. Beside me the now blue-skirted priestesses writhed futilely against their pillars.
I saw Kali return with a small group of red skirts.
“Who left them alone?” Kali shouted. “They will be soundly whipped for disobedience.”
She came to me, knelt beside me and checked that my bonds were still tight. She stood up.
“Bring him!” she ordered. “We can leave the others to think about their imminent doom. They will die as offerings to Kali when we have succeeded totally.”
The blue skirted women struggled violently, trying to warn Kali that they were her allies, not her enemies. Their gags were too effective. Their best efforts emerged as strangled grunts.
“You struggle in vain,” Kali screamed. “You will wait for Kali’s deadly embrace. Think on that, bitches!”
While she was shouting my body was detached from the pillar. Long scarves were tied around my body and attached to two long poles. Eight priestesses put the poles on their shoulders and carried me off, feet first as if I was in slung in a hammock.
Something strange happened. One of the two women by my head put her hand out and stroked my hair. Was that a message? From the other side a woman caressed my cheek. Although all eight carrying me were wearing red skirts I felt that at least some of them were our friends.
We went down some stairs and through several rooms. Many doors were shut and locked behind us. A secret door opened on a very narrow and long flight of stairs. The red skirts brushed against me as they tried to make themselves and their burden fit the restricted width.
We must be in the cellars of the Palace or even below them. I heard a rumble as if a heavy door was being opened. We went through a thick threshold. I looked at the door as we passed it. Its outer face was stone matching the room we had just left. When that door was shut it would seem to be a solid wall with no opening. It was heaved shut after we were inside.
Unless my friends were already with me, or ahead of me, it would be very difficult to get through all the barriers we had been through. Even the last door on its own would defy gunpowder.
Kali was beside me as I was lowered to the floor.
“Prince Harold,” she said quietly but her voice shook with emotion, “we are in the chamber of the Goddess Kali, where the Ride to Heaven begins. At the end of that ride you will be Kali’s prey, sacrificed by me to the success of our plan to depose Serena.
She will follow you within hours, as will your wife. I will keep your weapons…”
She rested her hand on the revolver dragging at her side.
“…as a souvenir of the helplessness of Englishmen against the power of Kali. Prepare him!”
Many hands unfastened me from the carrying poles, loosened the silk bonds on my legs and stripped my lower body. I was exposed from my feet to my waist before my ankles, calves and thighs were tied again.
Several hands stroked my exposed penis. Despite myself I became erect.
I was carried across the chamber, up a long flight of steps and turned so that I could see the Ride to Heaven. It was a large statue shaped like a woman with her legs splayed wide exposing her yoni. Her arms were at her side arched outwards from her body with her hands poised on her hips. Her mouth was open as if in a scream of sexual frenzy.
The statue was mounted on four large wooden wheels set on a very wide track of grooves cut into the stone. The Ride was resting against a block of stone richly carved with erotic couples. A few feet ahead the track began to fall away. I could see it disappearing into the darkness and dropping down a gradient. Once the wheels were over the edge of the drop they would accelerate down the track.
“Show him the Goddess!” Kali ordered.
The women carried me back down the steps and across the chamber. I could faintly see that the track was cambered for a tight curve and returned behind the ramp on which the Ride to Heaven was standing.
There was a massive statue of the Goddess. She appeared to be sitting against the wall with her legs splayed. The tracks ran between them and under her yoni’s lips. There wasn’t enough room for the Ride to pass beneath them. There were ominous stains between her lips. I suspected that those stains were the remains of the unsuccessful candidates for the post of Chief Priestess and victims of the Ride to Heaven.
While I was forced to watch, a very large soft cushion was strapped across the upper part of the lips of the stone yoni. Whoever impacted on that cushion might be shaken but would survive. All the stains were feet below that cushion.
The priestesses carried me back and laid me on my back on the statue. My legs were between her outstretched ankles and fastened to a ring set in the stone bed she was on. Silk scarves were tied to my bonds and to the statue’s arms. My head was secured against the statue’s belly.
Kali loomed over me. Her face was sneering at me as she lifted her skirts and impaled herself on my erection.
“You will be my victim as well as Kali’s,” she hissed.
“Wait!” A priestess said urgently. “You can’t ride like that, Kali. You’d be thrown off on the curve.”
“True. I had forgotten that,” Kali said. “What should we do?”
“Secure you loosely so that you stay on.”
“Do it!”
Kali bent forwards, her face inches above mine. Her hands and ankles were tied to the statue but with some slack between the tight knots on her and those on the statue. While she could move, there was no way she could release herself.
She tensed her yoni around my erection and squeezed.
“Start the ride!” she ordered.
The car began to move very slowly as its weight was pushed up to and over the edge of the ramp. It rumbled ominously as it started down the incline. Kali was pounding up and down on me as we accelerated across the chamber. As we entered the curve she was thrown to one side releasing my erection. She scrabbled to push her yoni back on my lingam, only to be thrown in the other direction as the Ride straightened out.
She was screaming in frustration as we rushed towards the fatal stone lips. I couldn’t see how far we had to go because her grimacing face was in the way.
I felt the stone belly beneath me split. My head and body dropped into a soft satin lined recess. Kali’s body was wrenched from above me with the sound of smashing bones. I fainted as the Ride slowed to a halt. Women rushed to me and quickly untied me. Ambika’s lips kissed me. She helped me off the Ride. As I stood up, staggering, I could see that at least a third of the women in the Chamber were standing with their hands in the air, covered by the Archers’ pistols.
The Archers were all dressed as red-skirted Priestesses. They had thrown their veils back to reveal their friendly English faces. One by one the captured Priestesses had their hands tied behind them, their ankles hobbled, and hitched into a long line. They were led out of the chamber.
Lisa grabbed me and kissed me fiercely.
“We didn’t expect Kali to go on the Ride so soon. We had meant to save you before then. But… She’s dead. You’re not, and we have captured her supporters.”
Ambika brought my belt with weapons. My revolver was as I had left it. The cylinders were still uncapped. I took six percussion caps out of the pouch on the belt and fitted them. Kali couldn’t have fired my revolver without them. Even if she had remembered the caps, the recoil would have knocked her over.
“We have stopped Kali’s attempt,” I said, “but we haven’t found Serena’s husband the King. Or have you?”
“No,” Lisa said sadly. “We still haven’t found him. Some of the more senior of Kali’s priestesses will be interrogated and threatened with the Ride to Heaven, but I think it will be useless. I don’t think they know, and that Kali didn’t.”
“So we still have to foil Lord Mohan?” I asked.
“Yes, Prince Harold,” Ambika said. “We still have work to do.”
To be continued.
Copyright Oggbashan November 2013
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
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“Why is it called The Dancing Room?” Lisa whispered to Queen Serena. I could hear Lisa’s question and Serena’s reply.
“He couldn’t call it a Ballroom, Serena whispered back. “We, and particularly he, don’t do that sort of dancing. Dancing is mainly a sexual display for men only. You will notice that you and I are the only women in this group.”
When we reached the Dancing Room it was obvious that this was a place for sexual titillation. The wall paintings, the erotic statuary and the furnishings were overtly sexual, celebrating dance as a means of seduction.
We four sat on cushioned gaddis. The rest of the company spread themselves on cushions against one wall. Musicians in a curtained gallery began to play, softly at first, then louder with a sinuous rhythm. Veiled dancers entered quietly from both ends of the room until the floor in front of us was covered with silk swathed bodies that began to writhe to the music.
The music became more insistent and the dancers’ veils were discarded. Their long hair whipped around them as they gyrated. Their hips thrust aggressively towards us.
One dancer appeared from the mass. As she did, another dancer pulled away some of the silken material to reveal a finely muscled midriff. All our eyes were drawn to her navel as she wriggled sensuously. Another length of material was removed to show her legs in translucent pantaloons decorated with gold coins that clinked as she danced.
She was joined by three other dancers, similarly revealed. All four positioned themselves before the four gaddis and directed their dancing at each individual notable. They gradually came closer and closer until they were within touching distance. Their midriffs wiggled in front of our faces for a few seconds before they retreated to be replaced by another four dancers who repeated the exhibition.
Soon all the men and the two women were confronted with almost naked dancers clothed only with gold embroidered panties. The jiggling breasts were mesmerising.
Lord Mohan clapped his hands. The dancers stopped before retreating a few yards.
“Honoured guests,” Lord Mohan said, “That is as far as I am prepared to let my dancers proceed in front of ladies. I suggest that we withdraw and let the dancers continue to the eventual climax which might offend you…”
I felt that Lisa might object that she could watch anything. I touched her arm. She nodded.
Lisa and I left with Queen Serena. Outside the Dancing Room Pushpa and Serena’s other female attendants were waiting.
“Mohan likes in-your-face sex,” Serena said. “We shouldn’t deprive him. While he’s busy we can make our own plans. Pushpa? Is there anywhere safe we can talk?”
“I think so, your Majesty. Harold’s friends tell me that there is one room that doesn’t have secret spy holes. It’s rather small but…”
“Take us there,” Queen Serena ordered.
Pushpa was right. The room was small. It was a dressing room, or probably a wardrobe, off Queen Serena’s suite. With the five of us in there we were touching each other. Lisa’s crinoline was jammed against my legs.
“OK, Pushpa. What have you found out?” Serena asked.
“It’s rather what I haven’t found out. King Vishaladeva isn’t held in any of the rooms of the palace that Harold’s friends have access to. They suspect that he might be in the old watchtower that is supposed to be derelict because they have seen men guarding it and food being taken into it. That hadn’t happened until after the King was k**napped. However they can’t be sure. It might be a trap designed to catch us. They are still listening for any clue to the King’s whereabouts but they suspect that very few people actually know about the k**napping.”
“What about the attack on us?” Lisa asked.
“That’s due tomorrow evening. You and the ladies accompanying Serena, but NOT the Queen, nor Harold, nor me, are to be invited to the zenana for folkloric entertainment. While there you will be served d**gged drinks. When you fall asleep you will be tied up and held in the zenana. Shortly before that happens, or at the same time, Harold will have been taken prisoner. He will be taken to the Goddess’ temple to face the ordeal. One of the priestesses related to Mohan doesn’t believe that Harold is beloved of the Goddess and intends to prove he isn’t by subjecting him to the ultimate test – the Ride to Heaven.”
Pushpa held up her hand to stop Lisa questioning her.
“Queen Serena, Lisa and I will be guests of the Dowager Lady, Mohan’s elderly mother. We should be safe with her. She doesn’t approve of her son’s activities. We might even find that she could be a willing ally in our search for the King.
I have made plans with Harold’s friends, the Goddess’s worshippers. First, the d**gged drinks will be switched. Our ladies will have unadulterated drinks. Their intending captors will be the ones to be d**gged and they will also have been considerate enough to bring with them the bonds that can be used to tie them up. Once the zenana is secure some of the Archers can visit the watchtower, possibly disguised as zenana ladies, and find out whether the King is inside. If he is, they will smuggle him out to the John Company encampment. If he isn’t, they might be able to find out from the guards where he might be.”
“The Ride to Heaven?” Lisa interrupted. “How dangerous is that?”
“I’m sorry Lisa, and Harold. It is very dangerous and usually fatal. It is used to select the next Chief Priestess. The failure rate, and fatality rate, is about nine out of every ten riders. The outcome is supposed to be decided by the Goddess herself but I suspect that there is some secret mechanism known to senior priestesses that allows them to choose who shall live and who shall die. Harold, of course, will be supposed to die. Ambika is the current Chief Priestess but even she doesn’t know how the Ride to Heaven works. The candidates for the post of Chief Priestess are d**gged u*********s before the ordeal. Harold won’t be. The plotters intend that he will know exactly how he will die.”
“But!” Lisa protested.
“There is a but… Almost all the Goddess’s worshippers and priestesses are on Harold’s side. They will do everything they can to save Harold. Can we trust them? If Harold isn’t k**napped and apparently out of action we have little chance of finding the King. Mohan thinks that Harold is the real danger. He doesn’t think that any woman is a threat to him. Once Harold is neutralised Mohan will relax and that will give the rest of us a chance. I think we can trust the Goddess’s worshippers but Harold must decide. It is his life we are staking.”
“I’ll trust my friends,” I said, “because you need the opportunity that will give you.”
I kissed Lisa before she could protest.
“Sorry, Lisa,” I said. “I know that you, Serena and Pushpa can take advantage of my absence. The King is more important than I am.”
Lisa objected but was persuaded. We modified the plans slightly. As soon as I disappeared, the Archers would try to take the watchtower. If they found the King they would be free try to rescue me before I faced the ordeal of the Ride to Heaven. If not? They would have more time to search and/or interrogate the watchtower’s guards.
The next morning started slowly. Lord Mohan didn’t appear until nearly noon. He and his nobles appeared worn and tired. Some of Lisa’s noble attendants also seemed exhausted. When asked, one of them admitted that acts of sexual congress had continued all night long until almost all the men were completely spent.
About one o’clock a messenger came for me. He conveyed Lord Mohan’s request that I meet him in the gun room to discuss improving his sporting arms. I couldn’t refuse. I suspected that this was a preliminary to my a*****ion. I warned Lisa and Pushpa. Pushpa would tell Ambika if Ambika didn’t already know.
The messenger led me by an unfamiliar route to the edge of the zenana’s outer wall. He pointed along the wall.
“The gun room is the first door after you pass through the passageway just around that corner, Prince Harold. Lord Mohan is inside waiting for you. Excuse me. Lord Mohan has asked me to bring one of his guns that was being cleaned. I have to fetch it now.”
The messenger turned on his heels and left me. I walked to the corner and turned into a narrow passageway. Just beyond the passageway ahead of me there were several zenana ladies examining material displayed on a table. Three of them were holding a sari length up to the light. I walked towards them, intending to pass to their left at the end of the passageway. I turned straight into another group of ladies holding up more material. Behind them I glimpsed a shrouded palanquin with women porters standing ready.
The ladies ran towards me, enveloping me in folds of silk. The other ladies moved quickly behind me to cut off my retreat with their length of silk. Before I knew what had happened I was cocooned in layer after layer of silk being swiftly tightened around me. My belt was unfastened, my sword and gun whisked away. I was just able to sense long scarves being tied around my encumbered body and a knotted scarf was thrust between my teeth.
I was pushed over to be caught by many hands. My legs and ankles were tied before I was carried to be thrust between the curtains of the palanquin. Face down, my head was clamped between silk clad thighs. More scarves tied me down to the base of the palanquin.
“Breathe deep, Englishman,” a sultry voice said. “I can cut off your breath just like this…”
The thighs squeezed around my head. She was right. She could cut off any air reaching me.
“Now relax and enjoy.”
Her hands pulled my head to rest against her silk sheathed yoni.
I felt the palanquin begin to move. I hoped that my a*****ion would give Lisa and Serena the opportunity they needed. I hoped that Ambika’s and her helpers would rescue me in time. With my silk-swathed mouth and nose pressed against my captor’s yoni I was only too aware how vulnerable I was. Her hands were stroking the silk around my head. Sometimes those hands would pull me hard against her, cutting off my breath. If she wanted to kill me now I was completely helpless wrapped tightly in layers of silken saris.
Even the jolts as the palanquin bearers turned corners and mounted steps were a risk to me because my own weight thrust my face against my captor’s warm yoni. Despite myself my lingam hardened.
The transit seemed interminable. When we began to descend my breathing could ease as my body slid slightly away from that warm damp threat. Finally the palanquin came to rest. My captor swung a leg over me.
“Wait there, Prince Harold,” she said. “You have to. I’ve given you no choice. Just wait.”
Once she had left I tried to struggle. My frantic writhing was useless. My captor and her assistants had tied me too tightly inside the enveloping saris and then lashed me to the palanquin’s webbed base. Exerting my full strength gave me little more than an inch of movement and seemed to tighten the knots holding me helpless. I relaxed and strained my ears for any clue about what might be happening around me. I thought I heard faint scuffling and the sound of silken d****ries swishing nearby.
“Now it is your turn, Prince Harold,” my captor announced. “Everything is prepared for you.”
Many hands untied the bonds holding me to the palanquin. Many hands lifted me out, carried me, lifted me upright, placed my feet carefully and stood me leaning against a hard surface. Many hands bound me to what seemed to be a round pillar. A few hands slackened the wrappings around my head gradually letting a dim light reach my eyes before the final layer of richly scented silk was slid away. I could see but I was still tightly gagged.
My eyes gradually adjusted to the light of many flaming torches flickering in a large pillared vault that extended into darkness on all sides. I was indeed tied to a pillar, my feet standing on the edge of its base. Facing me were five women, tied as tightly as I was, each to her own pillar. All were gagged. Four wore flaring blue skirts. One was dressed in a green and gold embroidered sari. I recognised Ambika’s eyes and forehead above her tight gag.
Beside Ambika stood my captor, dressed in a vivid red flared skirt. Ambika had warned me that a red skirt would be dangerous for me and that blue skirts would be safe. Something had gone wrong. Ambika and the ‘safe’ blue-skirted priestesses had been captured. I was in real trouble. Unless Lisa and Serena could find and release the King, no one would rescue me and my four allies.
“Prince Harold, perhaps I should introduce myself,” my captor said. “Although I have been a priestess of the Goddess, actually I serve another Goddess, not yours. I am the Priestess of Kali in her destructive death-dealing attribute. My real name, not the name that Ambika knew me as, is Kali on Earth. You should bow to acknowledge my embodiment as Kali but you are excused at present. Your obeisance will be required later.”
Kali walked over to Ambika’s restrained body.
“This fool spoke too freely in front of priestesses she thought were hers. They weren’t. They’re mine. So are these.”
Kali gestured at another woman previously hidden in the shadows. That woman came forward holding out my Colt’s revolver and sword. She buckled both around Kali’s body, struggling to support their weight as she tightened the gun belt around Kali’s waist, much slimmer than mine.
The result was ridiculous. My sword stuck out sideways at an angle. My revolver holster was canted by her hip bones so that the revolver’s handle dug into Kali’s side. She would have real difficulty if she wanted to draw either of the weapons.
“Now, Prince Harold, you must wait. When I am informed that your English ladies and Queen…” Kali almost spat that word “…Serena’s attendants have been secured we will proceed to your obeisance and introduce you to the Ride to Heaven. I know that Ambika has told you about that. What she couldn’t tell you, because she didn’t know, is that the priestesses of Kali control the result of the ride. Ambika was a mistake. She should have died with the other aspirants to be Chief Priestess to the Goddess. We don’t know what went wrong. The Ride won’t malfunction when you take it. Ambika will watch so that she’ll know exactly what will happen to her when she follows you. Now I must leave you for a while. I have an appointment with the Dowager Lady. She will be expecting me to be there before your wife arrives. Your wife and that stupid bitch Serena will join you shortly. Meantime? I’ll let my most loyal followers amuse themselves with you.”
Kali swept out of the room. Most of the other priestesses left too but about a dozen stayed. Four of them approached my pillar.
“Prince Harold,” one of them said sarcastically, “your position must be uncomfortable and inconvenient. We’ll make it just a little easier.”
She laughed.
“Easier for us, that is, not for you.”
She and the other two loosened the silk scarves tying me to the pillar. One grabbed my ankles and pulled hard. I slid down the pillar, banging my backside against its plinth. My still tightly-swathed legs were extended in front of me. My gagged head was now below the priestesses’ waists.
Another one of the three removed some of the layers holding my gag in place. I could breathe more easily but my mouth was still stuffed with silk. One of the priestesses whispered to the others.
“That’s a good idea,” the first priestess replied. “We don’t want those stupid women to see what happens to you. Their imagination will be much more inventive.”
The four left me to tightly blindfold Ambika and the four blue-skirted priestesses. When they returned to me the lead priestess raised her d****ries above her waist revealing a naked, shaven yoni. She placed one leg on my shoulder, transferred her weight, and then her other leg pressed on my other shoulder. Her friends held up her skirts as she wrapped her legs and arms around my pillar. Her yoni spread open as she thrust it against my face. I took a deep breath through my nose before her warm flesh closed over my nostrils and mouth.
She bucked hard against the pillar, banging my head against the stone. She used her fingers to hold the yoni’s lips tightly sealed so I couldn’t breathe. I tried to bite, anything to get freedom for a breath of air. The silk in my mouth made my bite wholly ineffectual. When the priestess felt my mouth move she thrust harder. I could feel my lungs straining for air, my face reddening with lack of oxygen. I thumped my swathed legs on the stone floor. I was unable to prevent her from doing whatever she wanted.
At last she leaned back. I panted through my nose grateful for the air I desperately needed. A few seconds later her yoni sealed me in its pitiless embrace. Now it was wet as well as warm. Her fluids began to dampen the silk over my mouth. Again she took me to the edge of u*********sness before relenting.
How long she continued to torment me I have no idea. I was never u*********s but all I could know was that inexorable yoni swallowing me time and time again. I couldn’t sense anything else, not the pillar I was tied to, the stone I was sitting on, the silken material holding me helpless, even my own body. All I knew was that I was drowning in her yoni, surrounded by her yoni, sinking into her yoni and swallowed whole by it.
Finally I could breathe again for a few seconds as that priestess had satisfied herself. But another one soon replaced her and I had to endure being suffocated by another yoni.
After the third and fourth priestesses had enjoyed humiliating me I was nearly u*********s. My gag was soaked with their juices and my face was dripping with them. I shook my head as far as my bonds would let me. My eyes took in the bound, gagged and blindfolded blue-skirted women. Our rescue attempt seemed doomed.
While I was being used as a sex toy the other priestesses had left the room. The four using me were alone. They were standing in a close group whispering together.
A familiar face peered around a pillar. It was Lisa. She put her finger to her lips. I thought that a distraction would help. I groaned and thumped my bound legs on the floor. I couldn’t make much of a noise but it was enough. The four priestesses looked at me.
Lisa led a rush of the Archers. The four priestesses were swamped by fit active Englishwomen who tied and gagged them mercilessly before they could raise an alarm. The priestesses were silk bound bundles struggling helplessly on the floor. Ambika and her blue-skirted allies were released.
Lisa kneeled beside me.
“Sorry, Harold.” She whispered. “We found out this was going to happen, but too late to warn you. Ambika and her friends knew they would be rescued by us. Their capture, and yours, has made Kali and her colleagues overconfident. We have imprisoned all those women who were left with you. If our plan is to succeed we have to leave you as a prisoner.”
I shook my gagged head. Lisa kissed my yoni-slicked forehead.
“You are too effectively bound to object, aren’t you? We are going to replace Ambika and her friends, but we haven’t got anyone who could be sufficiently like you to deceive Kali. Look.”
Ambika and her four blue skirts were stripping down to their underwear. With the help of many of the Archers the four red skirted priestesses who had used me were being dressed in blue skirts and tied, gagged and blindfolded, to the pillars vacated by Ambika’s friends. One of the Archers was dressing as Ambika.
Once the Archer was gagged and blindfolded, the resemblance was total. Her bonds were apparently tight but she could release herself easily. Her gag was loose. Her blindfold was a single layer she could see through.
Ambika, wearing a red skirt, led her allies, Lisa, and the Archers out of the room through a concealed doorway. Beside me the now blue-skirted priestesses writhed futilely against their pillars.
I saw Kali return with a small group of red skirts.
“Who left them alone?” Kali shouted. “They will be soundly whipped for disobedience.”
She came to me, knelt beside me and checked that my bonds were still tight. She stood up.
“Bring him!” she ordered. “We can leave the others to think about their imminent doom. They will die as offerings to Kali when we have succeeded totally.”
The blue skirted women struggled violently, trying to warn Kali that they were her allies, not her enemies. Their gags were too effective. Their best efforts emerged as strangled grunts.
“You struggle in vain,” Kali screamed. “You will wait for Kali’s deadly embrace. Think on that, bitches!”
While she was shouting my body was detached from the pillar. Long scarves were tied around my body and attached to two long poles. Eight priestesses put the poles on their shoulders and carried me off, feet first as if I was in slung in a hammock.
Something strange happened. One of the two women by my head put her hand out and stroked my hair. Was that a message? From the other side a woman caressed my cheek. Although all eight carrying me were wearing red skirts I felt that at least some of them were our friends.
We went down some stairs and through several rooms. Many doors were shut and locked behind us. A secret door opened on a very narrow and long flight of stairs. The red skirts brushed against me as they tried to make themselves and their burden fit the restricted width.
We must be in the cellars of the Palace or even below them. I heard a rumble as if a heavy door was being opened. We went through a thick threshold. I looked at the door as we passed it. Its outer face was stone matching the room we had just left. When that door was shut it would seem to be a solid wall with no opening. It was heaved shut after we were inside.
Unless my friends were already with me, or ahead of me, it would be very difficult to get through all the barriers we had been through. Even the last door on its own would defy gunpowder.
Kali was beside me as I was lowered to the floor.
“Prince Harold,” she said quietly but her voice shook with emotion, “we are in the chamber of the Goddess Kali, where the Ride to Heaven begins. At the end of that ride you will be Kali’s prey, sacrificed by me to the success of our plan to depose Serena.
She will follow you within hours, as will your wife. I will keep your weapons…”
She rested her hand on the revolver dragging at her side.
“…as a souvenir of the helplessness of Englishmen against the power of Kali. Prepare him!”
Many hands unfastened me from the carrying poles, loosened the silk bonds on my legs and stripped my lower body. I was exposed from my feet to my waist before my ankles, calves and thighs were tied again.
Several hands stroked my exposed penis. Despite myself I became erect.
I was carried across the chamber, up a long flight of steps and turned so that I could see the Ride to Heaven. It was a large statue shaped like a woman with her legs splayed wide exposing her yoni. Her arms were at her side arched outwards from her body with her hands poised on her hips. Her mouth was open as if in a scream of sexual frenzy.
The statue was mounted on four large wooden wheels set on a very wide track of grooves cut into the stone. The Ride was resting against a block of stone richly carved with erotic couples. A few feet ahead the track began to fall away. I could see it disappearing into the darkness and dropping down a gradient. Once the wheels were over the edge of the drop they would accelerate down the track.
“Show him the Goddess!” Kali ordered.
The women carried me back down the steps and across the chamber. I could faintly see that the track was cambered for a tight curve and returned behind the ramp on which the Ride to Heaven was standing.
There was a massive statue of the Goddess. She appeared to be sitting against the wall with her legs splayed. The tracks ran between them and under her yoni’s lips. There wasn’t enough room for the Ride to pass beneath them. There were ominous stains between her lips. I suspected that those stains were the remains of the unsuccessful candidates for the post of Chief Priestess and victims of the Ride to Heaven.
While I was forced to watch, a very large soft cushion was strapped across the upper part of the lips of the stone yoni. Whoever impacted on that cushion might be shaken but would survive. All the stains were feet below that cushion.
The priestesses carried me back and laid me on my back on the statue. My legs were between her outstretched ankles and fastened to a ring set in the stone bed she was on. Silk scarves were tied to my bonds and to the statue’s arms. My head was secured against the statue’s belly.
Kali loomed over me. Her face was sneering at me as she lifted her skirts and impaled herself on my erection.
“You will be my victim as well as Kali’s,” she hissed.
“Wait!” A priestess said urgently. “You can’t ride like that, Kali. You’d be thrown off on the curve.”
“True. I had forgotten that,” Kali said. “What should we do?”
“Secure you loosely so that you stay on.”
“Do it!”
Kali bent forwards, her face inches above mine. Her hands and ankles were tied to the statue but with some slack between the tight knots on her and those on the statue. While she could move, there was no way she could release herself.
She tensed her yoni around my erection and squeezed.
“Start the ride!” she ordered.
The car began to move very slowly as its weight was pushed up to and over the edge of the ramp. It rumbled ominously as it started down the incline. Kali was pounding up and down on me as we accelerated across the chamber. As we entered the curve she was thrown to one side releasing my erection. She scrabbled to push her yoni back on my lingam, only to be thrown in the other direction as the Ride straightened out.
She was screaming in frustration as we rushed towards the fatal stone lips. I couldn’t see how far we had to go because her grimacing face was in the way.
I felt the stone belly beneath me split. My head and body dropped into a soft satin lined recess. Kali’s body was wrenched from above me with the sound of smashing bones. I fainted as the Ride slowed to a halt. Women rushed to me and quickly untied me. Ambika’s lips kissed me. She helped me off the Ride. As I stood up, staggering, I could see that at least a third of the women in the Chamber were standing with their hands in the air, covered by the Archers’ pistols.
The Archers were all dressed as red-skirted Priestesses. They had thrown their veils back to reveal their friendly English faces. One by one the captured Priestesses had their hands tied behind them, their ankles hobbled, and hitched into a long line. They were led out of the chamber.
Lisa grabbed me and kissed me fiercely.
“We didn’t expect Kali to go on the Ride so soon. We had meant to save you before then. But… She’s dead. You’re not, and we have captured her supporters.”
Ambika brought my belt with weapons. My revolver was as I had left it. The cylinders were still uncapped. I took six percussion caps out of the pouch on the belt and fitted them. Kali couldn’t have fired my revolver without them. Even if she had remembered the caps, the recoil would have knocked her over.
“We have stopped Kali’s attempt,” I said, “but we haven’t found Serena’s husband the King. Or have you?”
“No,” Lisa said sadly. “We still haven’t found him. Some of the more senior of Kali’s priestesses will be interrogated and threatened with the Ride to Heaven, but I think it will be useless. I don’t think they know, and that Kali didn’t.”
“So we still have to foil Lord Mohan?” I asked.
“Yes, Prince Harold,” Ambika said. “We still have work to do.”
To be continued.
Annalisa
- 24.05.2021
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Harold Saves Her Husband Part 03 and Last
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