 |
|||
|
|
Taming Sayali - Chapter 39
It was quite apparent that these monks had disciplined other women in the past. The pair worked as one, the moment the first had struck sending a shower of tiny beads from Kanan's cunt into the air, the second was on its way to the cleft between her muscular buttocks, landing precisely in exactly the same spot over and over to add to the agony of the handmaiden of the demons. The noises that came from her mouth were animalistic, birdlike perhaps in keeping with her emaciated body. The monks moved outward, the limber shoots leaving their marks on her taut thighs that were carefully covered with deep lacerations that bled freely. At a nod from the old monk another pair of monks replaced the first pair, starting where the other had stopped. Kanan's hoarse screams never wavered as the second pair found all those sensitive spots on the thighs, backs of her knees and her calves, alternating to cover the same area over and over. A brief halt was decreed so that another monk could evaluate the sinner's physical condition.
Kanan was shivering from the pain; this was a beating the likes of which she never had experienced. The monk doing the examination took liberties with his subject, pulling and twisting the rings hanging from her cunt lips, and laughing at the noises he could force from the sinner. He spoke to the elder monk who signaled for the next pair of monks to come forward and begin. These two carried sticks, perhaps a meter in length and thicker around than a large man's thumb. Unlike their predecessors, these two used both hands to strike at the helpless wretch dangling by her ankles, a steady trickling of blood seeping from her various wounds.
I found myself attracted to Kanan's shaved cunt; it made her quite sexually attractive to me and my erect cock bore testimony of that. I would have given a great deal to exchange places with one of the monks now wielding his stick. I walked around to make sure I got a good view of Kanan's cunt while her flat belly was hammered by each two-handed stroke from the monk. The pair worked in tandem, one striking her belly to make her gasp for air and then the other slamming his hard length of wood across the base of her spine. To me it was a miracle that Kanan's spine was not snapped in two by one of those brutal blows. The sounds from her weakened as the awful beating continued, each stroke threatening to break her bare body in half. I began to fear that they might either kill or incapacitate her for life, undermining my plans for her.
Another team took their place and the relentless beating continued unabated. The one walloping her back was now beating her kidneys, going back and forth over and over. I feared that this might permanently damage her, and voiced my concern to the old monk. He ignored me and urged his monks to show the demons' handmaiden no mercy whatsoever. I despaired that Kanan would survive. The sickening sound of one of her ribs cracking under the force of a vicious blow agitated the monks somewhat, and the elder called for a brief respite so his man could evaluate her condition. Thankfully he indicated that she could not take any more beating, being sorely damaged by the most recent onslaught. I watched thankfully as they took her down from the tree and bandaged her more obvious wounds including the broken rib. They promised to give her a day of rest and then torture her further in more subtle ways.
The evening the monk leader invited me to share his meager meal. I was honored, but it turned out to be a diversion. While the old monk and I ate and discussed any number of things his followers had secreted Kanan to another place where she would sexually service every monk in a manner that he wished. Many were fascinated with the rings in her body and became quite exited, leading to assaults on her cunt that left it bleeding and distended as monk after monk penetrated and viciously attacked her. Others used her mouth and throat, often cutting off her air and leading to periods of unconsciousness. The great majority used her asshole, leaving it bleeding and distended to the point that it remained gaping after they had finished.
When I discovered what had taken place, I was infuriated and went back to their leader to let him know what happened and how angry with him I was. He only looked and reminded me that Kanan was being given a day that would start now to recover from what she had endured to date from his followers. He also reminded me that his people still considered Kanan a tool of the demons and would treat her so.
That very night the limousine arrived and whisked Sayali away. I'd probably never see her again. It took a few days for me to realize that the object of all my energies had escaped me, likely forever. In that period the monks tortured Kanan steadily as she lay out in the cruel sun, spread-eagled to wooden pegs driven into the ground. I begged the monk leader to allow some form of shelter to be made for her staring eyes, unable to close due to the tattoos that had been etched into her eyelids. It was the only favor she received.
It seemed that at any given time a monk was burning her with a smoldering stick, or pushing a needle into some portion of her bare body. Almost every animal in the compound was given an opportunity to mate with the demons' handmaiden. Those that were successful were given second and third chances in hopes that their sperm might drive the demons from their hiding places within her body.
Kanan screamed herself hoarse and then when her vocal cords ceased to function, croaked to let her tormentors know that they were causing her tremendous pain. Her genitals were rubbed with potions and compounds designed to attract crawling and flying insects when the monks were not busily involved in torturing her. For two nights every imaginable insect feasted on her, driving Kanan to the brink of insanity. The only way to completely rid her of them was to insert smoldering sticks into her cunt to drive out the invaders while she shrieked and thrashed against her bonds.
On the third day they made Kanan available to a troop of monkeys that frequented the area. These creatures had once been domesticated and trained in ways to enjoy and torment women of the streets. It did not take them too long to relearn and apply their lessons on Kanan. For a time they were reluctant to let her suck their cocks since the large stud in her tongue blocked her throat to some degree. The ever-resourceful monks found a way to remove the stud and then the monkeys were quite happy to use Kanan's mouth and throat.
It was necessary to have a monk watching the animals at all time lest they accidentally kill their plaything. However the monkeys had no difficulty using Kanan's cunt, and there seemed to be a perpetual line of eager chimps waiting to push their cocks into her cunt and flood it with their seed. It was astonishing just how often these creatures could ejaculate. When they finally tired of filling her to the point that more sperm came out than was injected, they remembered another trick they had been taught. Fortunately it was rather late in the day before the first chimp managed to make a fist and work it up past Kanan's many rings and into her sperm sodden cunt.
Other members of the troop started a racket that brought some of the monks over to watch the spectacle. Once the first ape tired of his new plaything, he decided to play with the rings on Kanan's flat tits. There was a brief struggle before a second member of the troop imitated his predecessor and got his fist into Kanan's swampy fuck tunnel. By the time the sun was setting, five monkeys had fisted Kanan into a state of near madness. The pain was intense both from her sore cunt and even sorer tits, now being stretched by three different apes, all struggling to get a grip on one or more of the rings that hung from her flat crepe-like tits. It took the efforts of half a dozen monks to finally scatter the chimps back into the ruins that were their abode. The old monk decreed that Kanan was to be taken to his quarters and allowed to rest while he determined her fate. So ended her harsh ordeal as a slave of the monks and their animals.
How we escaped from the monks and managed to return to my university in Wales is not worth telling. It was all due to the good offices of Mr. Shalimanya who freed and made the arrangements that allowed us to leave the country. I returned to teaching and my studies, while Kanan assumed the position of my housekeeper, occasional sex slave and chronicler of her amazing adventures. She writes rather well, indicating that she did more at the university than become a drudge and sex slave for her roommates. Her first book is scheduled to be published by a small press located in Colwyn Bay. I've not decided what type of celebration would be appropriate to acknowledge her first entry into the literary world. Like most of her tales this is mostly fiction despite her claims to the contrary.
Within the confines of the university she is held in relatively high esteem by a certain group of students who pass her from one graduating class to the next. Her only function is to relieve the sexual tensions of this group of rather influential student leaders, both males and females. She has a regular schedule that I approve. It should be noted that although she is my sex slave, her function with me always involves a third party, often Indian. I also can approve certain unique gatherings, or conclaves as they are called, that include some special people from former classes. Having sex with Kanan is a badge of distinction. It is usually done four or five times during the school year plus at any of the special conclaves held in the vicinity. As a matter of fact I am currently negotiating with the representative of one such gathering. Kanan will be expected to satisfy the needs of at least thirty participants, perhaps a few more.
The only other item of interest that has occurred since my return came by post a few months ago. I have never shared it with Kanan for my own set of reasons. It was sent by Mr. Shalimanya who now resides in Neelem's house and obviously takes a very active role in disciplining and teaching Sayali, who has remained unreconstructed. It contained three photographs, all most graphic. The first showed an emaciated Sayali dangling by her wrists over the pit in the back area. She is stark naked with her body covered from neck to knees with markings made by a variety of implements. How many times the teen had been soundly beaten in this manner is not possible to estimate.
Many are quite fresh, still bleeding. Sayali's once firm, plump breasts are now misshappen and swollen, covered by dense clusters of markings from numerous beatings. The teen's vulva has not been spared; in fact it is difficult to estimate just how many times this region has been cut and blistered by all sorts of punishment tools. Obviously they have been provided from Mr. Shalimanya's cache of such items hidden away in the various nooks and crannies of his mysterious shop. Standing in the background of this photograph are Neelem and her new lover, the mysterious shopkeeper. She is holding what looks to be a cat o-nine tails, while her companion is bending a cane probably made of rattan. They are both smiling. I can only assume that Harsha took this picture.
The second picture is even more shocking since it shows Sayali, her face contorted by the pain, in the midst of delivering a rather large child. She is lying on what appears to be her own bed, wrists and ankles tied tightly to the posts. It does not appear she is being assisted in any way even though her child's head is appearing. The last one shows a smiling Mr. Shalimanya, lying on what was once our bed. His cock is erect and glistening, thanks to the long tongue issuing from Harsha's mouth. On his opposite side, a haggard looking Sayali is licking his balls. There is a reflection from the mirror standing by the bed that shows Neelem taking the picture. I was totally stunned at this revelation. There were no words written on the backs of the photographs, just as well.
Tonight I am enjoying a candidate student, a plump, buxom Indian girl who has offered me anything I want in exchange for taking her on as one of my graduate students. If she passes her "examination" I have a position for her that hopefully we may both enjoy over the next two to three years if she can stand the rigors of being one of my graduate students. Naturally Kanan will be in attendance, hands bound behind her back to make my student more comfortable. If all goes well Kanan will get a mouthful of my seed prior to the deflowering of Miss Pragya Mittra. Then she will have to watch as my new graduate student and I seal the arrangement with our naked bodies. Such is the life of a professor with tenure. You can be sure that my Indian adventure will remain with me always, whether or not Kanan stays or goes on to another aspect of her life.
FINIS
|
|
|