Rajasthani Moon Read Online Free PDF Page A

cave was mostly in shadow. Then he’d stretched his lanky, naked body out on a pallet next to the bed where she’d been restrained, close enough that she’d thought she could feel the heat coming off his skin. All night long his scent had tormented her. Her clit had throbbed like a sore tooth and her quim had soaked his mattress, but he’d made no move to touch her, and of course she hadn’t been able to touch herself. To distract herself from her arousal, she’d bent her clever mind to the task of devising ever more excruciating tortures to inflict on him. Since many of her ideas involved his penis or testicles, however, this strategy had not been particularly effective.
    When she had finally drifted into uneasy sleep, she’d dreamt she was hurtling through the air after having been expelled from the carriage. Pratan swooped up on a carpet and snatched her out of the sky, then forced her mouth down on his erection. In the dream, she had sucked eagerly on his swollen member, certain that if she could bring him to spending, she’d have him at a disadvantage. He’d got fatter and harder every minute she worked on him, until she could scarcely encompass his girth in her stretched jaws. Still he had seemed far from his crisis. Finally, as she’d begun to despair, he’d flipped her onto her stomach and driven that enormous column of flesh into her depths.
    Cecily had awakened, whimpering and shuddering in the throes of a climax triggered entirely by her imagination. In the near-darkness, the voice of the subterranean stream had seemed much louder. She’d craned her neck until she could make out Pratan’s recumbent form, concerned that her passionate vocalisations had awakened him. The even rise and fall of his well-muscled chest had suggested he slept deeply but she hadn’t been able to help but note that his cock was splendidly engorged, bobbing gently with his breathing.
    Despite her dream-kindled crisis, Cecily had found herself randier than ever.
    In the morning, Pratan had modified her bonds so that she could sit or squat. After feeding her some dahl , yogurt and tea, he’d dressed her in a worn cotton tunic and trousers like his own. He’d touched her as little as possible but every time his fingertips had grazed her skin, electricity crackled through her. The laughter she’d seen in his eyes had made it clear that he knew very well what he was doing to her.
    He’d almost had her ready to beg. She’d bitten her tongue, determined to keep silent. No one had ever expired from sexual frustration.
    “You expect me to meet a prince dressed like this?” she’d complained instead.
    “My apologies, Madame Spy. These are the only clothes I have available.”
    “I’ve several dresses in my trunk.”
    “Too much work. Besides, I think you look rather fetching in this attire. Of course, if you’d prefer to travel in the nude…”
    “Don’t be ridiculous. Roll up the pants, would you please? They’re much too long.”
    Grinning, Pratan had obeyed. He’d managed the task without making the slightest contact with her hungry flesh.
    They’d been travelling for several hours, her trussed-up body tossed about like a sack of potatoes, when the ride became considerably smoother. She worked herself into a sitting position, with her back to the door, and strained to see out of the window opposite.
    The coach proceeded along what appeared to be a broad boulevard, overhung with lush vegetation. Carts rolled past in the other direction, some drawn by oxen or mules but many apparently self-propelled. An occasional camel decked in bright garlands bore passengers or goods. Pedestrians made their way along the route as well, often with bundles or baskets slung over their shoulders or balanced on their heads. The women wore cholis , saris or flowing trousers in a rainbow of hues. For the most part, the men were clad in pure white, with their twisted multicoloured headdresses a delightful contrast. Everyone looked well-fed,