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Subject: Title story: "Prisoners of the Sultan" Author: Argus 109147057
From: TheXfan <ryzij@poczta.fm>
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Date: Tue, 12 Jun 2007 10:09:20 +0000
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Two lovely British sisters in colonial India are captured by evil men, one by a
cruel and sadistic Indian Sultan, the other by crude, sex hungry British army
deserters.
Miranda whimpered exhaustedly, hurting all over, sweating like a pig, gasping
for breath in the hot, humid, musky air of the dungeon. Her throat and jaw
ached. She was still in a state of shock at how vilely these savages had used
her. And then the sultan had accused her of being prideful for not enjoying it,
for not grovelling with more enthusiasm!
And so now she was in the dank, filthy dungeon beneath his palace. She was in a
small, barred cage. The cage was only a few feet high, yet made of strong bars
all around, narrow, like a bird cage. Her head brushed the top, her shoulders
the sides.
As to the bottom - the cage had none, save more bars. And one bar in particular,
one horizontal bar which she was straddling, her legs hanging loosely beneath,
outside the cage as it hung from the ceiling. The horizontal bar which her soft,
hairless mons was mashed down upon. Attached to that bar were two vertical bars,
fat, long, driven deep into her aching belly through her anus and pussy. She was
impaled upon them, her insides throbbing, cramping, straining to hold so much,
her sex lips and anal opening straining wide.
Her fingers gripped the bars before her feebly as she lay her forehead between
two of them, whimpering weakly. She had tried to support her weight to some
extent, but long given up on it, her muscles worn down to nothing.
She yelped and jerked her toes up again, fresh tears pouring down her red face.
Her legs were so tired, the muscles aching so badly.
The cage was suspended from the ceiling, her toes just long enough to reach the
floor, but not long enough to support any of her weight - at least not for long.
The floor was wet and sticky with slime, and she could hear the sounds of rats
scurrying back and forth hungry rats. Spiders crawled there, too, and huge bugs
the size of her hand. Snakes slithered back and forth, occasionally catching one
of the rats so that the sound of its death throes and frantic efforts to free
itself filled the closed in room.
Only a little light crept into the room from a narrow, barred window high, high
overhead. It was just light enough to make out herself and to see shadows, to
see a vague movement around the floor. She tried to keep her feet up, but her
legs had grown so very weary now, so very tired.
Where was her father, she thought despairingly, come to free her and
take her home?
Oh she would never complain about anything again if she could only leave this
beastly, horrific place and its savage, brutal people!
Her groin ached so badly! All her weight rested on it, on that soft, tender
portion of her anatomy, all her weight crushing down against the soft flesh
jammed against that hard, iron bar. She tried and tried to adjust herself, to
lean to one side or another, but that only eased the pressure and pain
temporarily, and shifted its locus an inch or two forward or back.
That pain was so steady, so sharp, and she thought she would give almost
anything to be free of it.
She sobbed in self pity, in pain, in misery and despair, her sobs growing
greater as a rat bit at her dangling toe and she yanked it up violently, sending
the rat flying up and back to tumble into the corner. It squealed as a snake
caught it.
The door gave a clang as the big iron bolt was shot back, then light flooded the
room as two men carrying flaming torches entered. The rats squealed and
scurried, the snakes and insects slithering and crawling rapidly away from the
twin pools of lights. Two turbaned Indians entered, coming over to her cage.
"Please," Miranda whimpered.
One went to a crank on the wall, and the chain holding the cage jerked and gave
way, lowering it until her feet were flat on the floor, then continued lowering
it as the second man opened the front and top of the cage to let the trembling
girl slide awkwardly out. The fat iron bars driven into her belly came free with
a dull, wet, slurping sound of flesh closing behind them, and strong male hands
caught at her arms and kept her from falling as she sobbed in relief.
But the relief was misplaced. The man guided her to a nearby wall, the stones
rough cut and filthy. The second man stuck his torch into a holder in the wall
to her right, and the other lit other nearby torches as the trembling girl
found her face and breasts pushed against the warm stones and her wrists lifted
up and apart.
Wh-what - p-please," she whimpered. "I-Ill do anything you want.
The men spoke no English. If they had they would have taken her admission as a
matter of course. She would indeed do anything they wanted.
Her arms were lifted up and apart and hard cold shackles were locked around
them. Miranda whimpered and jerked her head from side to side, trying to see the
men, trying to understand. "Wh ...
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