Fevered Fall part 15 of 16 (NND)

                                        Chapter Fifteen

         I squirmed on the wooden throne.  My feet dangled down, but
even with my toes pointed toward the floor, I could not touch it.  All
of my weight rested upon my small, slim-hipped bottom.  The hardness of
the wood, cold to the touch, pressed implacably against my flesh.  I was
drawn farther back upon the throne than the previous woman; she had been
sitting in it voluntarily, while I was drawn quite far back so that my
arms could be slotted into an opening at the rear and affixed.  The
opening was made of steel shackles that were mounted behind the back end
of my seat.  They were wide.  They captured my forearms, almost from my
wrists to my elbows, and held them tight.
         “Open them.  I wish to see their cunts,” the Sultan said.  He
sat down at the table covered with food.  He ordered the guards to bring
more.  One of the European women poured champagne for him and he drank
it.  Another woman, the one who had sat in my chair, offered to warm
grapes on her breasts and then feed them into his mouth.  The Sultan
accepted.
         I screamed as my knees were pulled apart by the guards.  There
were no arms to my throne, and so they could stretch me as wide as they
wished.  My legs would not bump the arms of the chair, no matter how
wide apart I was pulled, since the arms had been removed.  I struggled
as my legs were yanked painfully wide.  The women laughed at my small,
childish slit between my legs.
         “She must be rodded,” a woman said.  “How small her pussy is. 
She needs a man to work himself repeatedly in it so she can take big
cocks without pain.”  Both princes chuckled and offered their sexual
services to the Sultan, should he require them.
         “Perhaps,” the Sultan said, letting the woman who’d sat in my
chair pop grapes in his mouth.  “Perhaps.  But we have Rutland here, who
has a large cock and no place to put it.”
         Everyone laughed at that, except me and my auntie.  Jim sat
with his dick sticking up hard and engorged from between his legs.  When
my own legs had been opened, as well as those of my aunt, and secured
wide apart with iron shackles, the guards turned to Rutland.  They
yanked on his thighs.
         I stared.  The guards were strong.  The muscles of their arms
bulged.  But Rutland was strong too!  He’d willingly let his hands be
bound at his back, but he showed reluctance at having his legs forced
open.  The guards strained.  Rutland’s thighs fought hard to remain
closed.  The muscles in his thighs rippled and flexed.  Oh, how hard and
powerful his legs were.  More guards came forward to his chair and, with
a mighty effort, they finally managed to open Rutland’s legs.  His big
cock was displayed to the crowd, right down to its root.  Beneath, as I
could see from a mirror, his large testicle sac bulged.  It rested
heavily upon his chair.  I wondered how much sperm he held within that
sac.  He was voluptuously full; his hairy sac was round and looked like
a water balloon stretched to the point of bursting. 
         Noticing my view, the guards laughed and adjusted a mirror so
that I could see Rutland even better.  At the same time they angled it
so that he had a frontal view of himself.  Then, at a suggestion from
the Sultan, two more mirrors were brought in and erected, so that my
auntie and I could see ourselves too, and Rutland could see us.  How
obscene it all was!  They were taking special care to let us see
whatever they might do to us!
         Two of the European women, the two who had sat upon the chairs,
came forward.  My face still glowed with the wet sheen of their saliva. 
This time they went round behind my aunt and myself.  They checked our
arms, to make sure we were securely fastened.  Then, leaning forward,
their breasts pressing upon my back as well as my aunt’s, they kissed
each of us.  Then they piled my hair on top of my head, and pinned it
into place.  They did the same to my aunt.  With our long hair out of
the way, they caressed our backs.
         “Such lovely slim backs they both have!” one woman remarked to
the other.
         “Yes.  The whipmaster will like exerting himself upon them,”
the other woman replied.  “And how sweetly their bottoms both bulge,
beneath their narrow waists.”
         One of the women poked my ass.  She used her finger.  “How
white her bottomflesh is!” the woman exclaimed to her friend.  “The
whipmaster will enjoy tanning her ass for her!”
         “Yes!” the other woman giggled.
         I was about to protest, futile though it seemed, when it became
suddenly quite impossible.  A gag was slipped over my mouth.  Another
was put over the lips of my aunt.  I resisted; the woman trying to tie
the gag on me slapped my face.  Tears came to my eyes.  The people
sitting at the table in front of me laughed at my tears.
         I was gagged.  My lips forced themselves wide apart, as if to
speak, but that allowed the gag to sink deep between them.  My tongue
was pushed back into my mouth.  I tried working my jaw, I could not. 
The thick, heavy black gag forced my mouth wide open, like my legs, and
then prevented me from closing it.  Beside me, my aunt murmured some
kind of protest.  The gag in her mouth made her hoped-for words
unintelligible.
         “Ah, now they are ready,” the Sultan said.  “Little Chloe, her
aunt, and even Rutland there, with his big dick sticking up with such
desperation and pride.  Many have wished to sit on my throne.  Instead,
I give such insolent upstarts a seat on one of these thrones instead! 
And now our three new guests shall have a ride too, so that they will
never dare to challenge the authority of the Sultan!”
         My bare bosoms swayed and shook whenever I moved.  I tried to
break free of my chair;  I squirmed upon my small bottom, I pulled hard
with my legs and hands.  But I was fixed, most securely, and could do
nothing but hope that my ‘ride’ was a gentle one.
         The Sultan got up and came forward.  He held his glass of
liquor in one of his hands.  With his other hand, bending down, he
pressed a lever under my chair.  I heard a buzzing sound.
         I looked down between my legs.  From within the seat of the
chair, a small feather extruded.  It came up through a small hole in the
chair.  The very tip of the feather’s bristles were the same color as
the wood, disguising it.  But as the feather rose, it opened.  It was a
brilliant yellow in color.  
         “Observe, ladies and gentlemen, how delicately we begin,” the
Sultan said to his guests.  “They will each be able to endure their
torment more easily if they are sexually excited.  In Rutland’s case,
he’ll be made to suffer from the very first moment, given how desperate
he is to spend.  It is the fate of the man that he can have only a few
orgasms.  But girls are different.  Little Chloe and her aunt might cum
numerous times, and by teasing them repeatedly, taking them into orgasm
however much I wish, I shall distract them from the crack of the whip
upon their backs, and the pain of the impalement of their bottoms.”
         “NO!” I shouted through my gag, but the thick cloth over my
lips stifled my cry, and it went unheard, unheeded.  My aunt made a
similar plea.  It too was ignored.  
         The feather sprouted from my seat and began caressing my slit. 
Carefully it traced the outline of my lips.  I shuddered.  How
wonderfully soft and caring it felt!  Yet it was only a machine!  It had
no thought at all for me, or my cunny.  It was merely doing as it had
been programmed; it might have been caressing a kumquat!
         “Ohhhhh!” I gasped.  How delicious the soft, downy feather felt
against my split-apart sex.  How carefully it slipped between my lips,
to wet itself upon the juices gathering there.  How it probed; softly,
yet with the implacability of a machine.  Its soulless bristles tickled
me to a shivering bliss.  I came quickly; once, twice, three times!
         “Yes, Chloe.  The feather is highly effective for procuring
pleasure from a girl already feeling excited by her predicament,” the
Sultan breathed.  His voice was low and sinister, yet somehow strangely
loving.  I felt it was his hands that were giving me pleasure, though in
fact he was only speaking to me.  The feather was doing all the work for
him!  My eyes closed.  My mouth gasped through my gag.  Beside me, my
aunt suffered two orgasms of her own.  Each time she came a keening
whine escaped from her.

>: (    What are you doing reading this trash?!
         I told you to go to bed an hour ago!!!