My Swami's Birthday - Part III

I struggle to keep my heels from touching the ground. I am on the toes of my feet, my legs shoulder length apart. My hands are raised straight up with very little flex, each tied to a hook hanging from our bedroom ceiling. We had installed them when we are initially thinking of having an ornate Indian swing in our bedroom. Now, they are being used for an entirely different purpose. 

The hooks are drilled into the support joists and can support 300 pounds, so they don't even budge as my 100 pound frame pulls on them. I have clover clamps on my nipples and they are attached with a string to a small hook on the ceiling. The string is taut with absolutely no flex. If I try to stand flat on my feet, my body moves down by three inches or so, but since there is no give on the string that is tied to my nipple clamps, they pull sadistically on my nipples sending waves of shooting pain thru them. My calf muscles are getting quite a workout as I struggle to hold myself up and remain still in an effort to prevent the clamps from crushing my nipples. My body is bathed in sweat from all the exertion and mental strain.

"Is this how  rendition victims felt when being interrogated by the CIA?" I wonder and yet unlike a rendition victim, I am here voluntarily and I am so sexually aroused that I can feel my pussy juices run down my inner thighs.

I try to distract myself from the pain, and think about how I landed up tied and naked in my Swami's bedroom.

During the past week, I had been working on a fantasy theme for my Swami's birthday.

It is 10th century India. I am the princess of a small kingdom ruled by an Hindu king in what is now Northwest Pakistan. Our small kingdom is under assault from the west by a Muslim usurper called Mahmud. He has sent word to my Dad the king, that he comes in the name of the one true God Allah and he is on the mission to eliminate idolatry and infidels from this earth. 

He has ordered my Dad thru his envoy to submit to Islam as the true religion, convert and accept his over lordship or face the consequences.  My Dad is outraged. He sends a strongly worded message back berating him. My Dad is confident that his army will prevail in beating back this upstart. He has done it many times before. But alas this time the usurper has the help of one of my Dad's ministers and bribes him with promises of the kingdom. A large part of my Dad's army defects and in the battle that ensues, my Dad is defeated and captured.  The minister whispers to Mahmud that he should take the king's daughter as his prize. I am dragged before Mahmud and his generals in open court.  His eyes narrow as he sees me. I despise the look of this man. His long beard with no moustache, the scars on his face, the foul smell of his body, his cruel eyes and stained teeth. I am also terrified of him.

He confers with his religious adviser on how I should be treated. That spineless wretch tells his master that since I am an idolater, an infidel, Allah would approve of me being sold into slavery. Humiliating the unbeliever and showing them that they have to submit to the one true faith will send the right message, Besides, I would make a good addition to his majesty's harem, he says stroking his white beard.  I am horrified as Mahmud nods and one of his generals grabs me and tears my royal clothes. I yell and scream and even my Dad's old minister looks away in horror. He whispers something to Mahmud and Mahmud smiles.

"Take her to my bed chamber and show her the ways of a slave" he orders and I am dragged away in tears. My life is about to turn into a nightmare.

In Mahmud's harem, I am quickly stripped of my royal attire of fine silk and expensive jewelry and forced to wear a slave's dress. I am shocked at the immodesty of the dress. It barely covers my body. A thin piece of soiled linen that barely covers my vagina and butt is wrapped around my lower waist and kept in place with a simple knot. A rag with no arms and a wide neck is pulled over my head and settles over my young breasts. It barely covers my nipples. The bottom and side of my breasts are visible. The attendants are cruel and laugh when I tell them that I am a princess and I deserve better treatment.

One of them whispers in my ear. "Your days as a princess are over. Now you are nothing but a sexual toy for our Lord and the sooner you give up your modesty and false pride and learn of your new place, the easier it will be for you". I try to slap her but she is too quick for me and my hands sail past her harmlessly.

They leave me alone and terrified in this big room. I try desperately to pull the linen to make it cover more of my body, but there just isn't enough fabric to make any difference.

Suddenly, I hear the bed chambers door open and Mahmud walks in. I run and try to hide behind the bed. I yell at him and ask him to stay away. I implore with him that as one royal to another, he owes me some respect even if I am his prisoner. I warn him that he will stand before his God one day and will have to answer to his actions, but he just laughs hysterically. I try to move away, but he lunges after me. His hand grabs the thin piece of linen covering my lower body and as I pull away from him it rips and is left in his hand. I start sobbing and try to cover my dignity with my hands. He grabs me and with one swift motion pulls the upper garment off. I scream and try to cover my breasts with my left arm, while my right hand covers my vagina. He stands and stares at me. I whimper and try to roll myself into a ball. He slowly backs away and suddenly claps his hand. Two female attendants enter, with heads bent. He whispers something to them and leaves.

I look wild eyed and terrified when they leave and return with two burly looking eunuchs. As I scream and try to kick them they tie my hands and pull it high and tie it wooden beam running across the ceiling. They attach jagged brass clamps on my nipples and laugh as I scream in pain. They then start pulling the rope and I feel my body being raised slowly. As soon as I am on my toes, they roughly spread my legs and insert a rod between my legs and clamp it to my thighs. The rod is pointed at both ends and when I try to bring my legs together it pierces my tender inner thighs sending bolts of pain to my brain.

I whimper and plead with them but they just ignore me and when they are finally finished,  leave me there hanging, naked, vulnerable and in great pain.

They leave shutting the door behind them and after a few minutes I hear the door open, I look up and see my Swami, dressed as Mahmud enter the room. He has a leather flogger in his hands.

Will he play his part well, I wonder. When we were driving home, I had claimed my wish that I had earned in the shower earlier in the morning. I had told him that for his birthday I wanted to be a young Hindu princess sold into sexual slavery to him a cruel Muslim ruler.  He seemed reluctant at first, but warmed up to the idea when I showed him all the toys I had bought just so that we could act out this fantasy.

So he tied me up in our bedroom and left me there while he went into the guest bedroom and transformed himself into Mahmud. He refused to put the rod between my legs, because he worried it would be too intense since I was fasting so we left that part out.

I waited as he approached me. He looked the part. The hideous beard, the painted scar on his face, the tobacco stained teeth, the Arab costume. Oh my!

"Allah-O-Akbar"(God is great) he yelled suddenly, startling me.  "You are an infidel and are filled with pride". You refuse to submit to Allah. You must be taught a lesson that you will never forget Kaneez ( Slave girl in Arabic). With that he swung the flogger and it landed hard on my bare breasts.....My Swami's slave girl was ready to serve him for his birthday...

To be continued......