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The Prize (Sean O'Kane)


The Prize by Sean O

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    • Average 3.3 from 3 ratings

Karen and her lover Ayesha are running a scam on Karen's wealthy husband. But for completely different reasons he decides he has to get rid of Ayesha and enlists the help of the Prince of Bakhtar to take her and enslave her. But other people are looking for her too and Karen ends up in Bakhtar herself where her sins against her husband are exposed! The plot twists and turns and erotically charged set-scenes follow one after another in this roller-coaster read! Unmissable stuff!

Product type: EBook    Published by: Fiction4All    Published: 12 / 2011

No. words: 76261

Style: Male Dom - M/F, HAREMS AND SLAVES

Available Formats: Palm  MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  Sony Reader (LRF)  PDF  MS Reader  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle

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Excerpt

The village was where the women of Bakhtar made sure that the girls of Bakhtar upheld the traditions of the country. Any headstrong girl was sent there for correction. Any wife who wasn’t totally obedient. Any daughter who was being prepared for a life in service at the palace. It was the only place in Bakhtar where women ruled supreme and the men only entered between dawn and dusk.
Perched on a hill and surrounded by desolate, rocky uplands and the tents of the men who were currently visiting, the village was as secure as any fortress. As the old woman had said on Karen’s first night; “You can always walk out, but there is nothing within three days’ walk of here. And the men will bring you back anyway. Once they have finished with you. In Bakhtar the men don’t like women who don’t like our village!” She had cackled at that and left Karen to sleep on her narrow cot.
The next day she had been taken to the market place and seen what was for sale. Women. Although they were rented more than sold. The square in the centre of the village had been divided into streets which specialised in correcting various forms of misbehaviour. One street specialised in correcting disobedience. The old woman had explained to Karen that buttock punishment and bastinado was considered the best way of dealing with that. On both sides of the narrow thoroughfare were small tents and each of the old women who ran the village had a ‘pitch’. Out from the front of the tent, beside which they sat like old crows in their black burnooses, naked buttocks and bare feet protruded, the girls having been tied down over benches.
Another street specialised in unfaithful wives. Ankle suspension and cunt whipping was the cure here. Karen’s pain-hungry nature had asserted itself when she had first seen the rows of inverted, wide open, naked legs.
Women who were not considered obedient enough were breast whipped. Women who were considered slatternly were flogged on their backs. Those who were not considered to be ardent enough in bed were subjected to nipple and labia piercing and clamping, plus some flogging as well.
Men haggled with the old women who supervised the punishments and purchased the rights to twenty lashes with a cane or thirty lashes with a whip to a woman’s back, buttocks, breasts or wherever they fancied plus the inevitable fuck, blow job or buggering afterwards. All of which the women were expected to perform enthusiastically. Failure to do so resulted in an extension of the sentence. Not surprisingly the village echoed to the sounds of women coming as if their lives depended on it. The yells and cries formed a descant over the shrieks of pain and the smack and hiss of whip and cane. A woman was normally sentenced to a matter of days - excluding any days she had off for healing - so a thirty day sentence for frigidity might sometimes take sixty to complete - if the men could afford to really put her through it.
Some men brought their sons there to teach them the right way to cane and flog; the skills involved in piercing breasts and labia and the old women’s bowls were never empty of money.
The Prince had sentenced Karen to spend four days in each street with no time off for healing. She had made her old woman a small fortune as, once it became known that she was English and the most evil woman the Prince had ever come across, the men had queued up to punish her. Even her rampant masochism hadn’t been up to the challenge and by the end of the second week the old woman was having to pay men to drag her limp body from the hovel to the market place while she mumbled pleas for mercy. She had also had to hire some lads to keep buckets of cold water, drawn from the village well, to hand in each pitch she took Karen to. As the days went on she passed out more and more frequently. At length there had come a day when no men had come to drag her back for another day’s pain and she had been allowed to begin healing at long last. But if she had thought that the Prince had finished with her, she was sadly wrong. She had finished with the Streets of Punishment but now she was introduced to the Place of the Needles.
It had been going on every day for a week now and finally her breast was going to be worked on. It had started with her vulva and that had been terrible. It had been worse than being whipped there, worse than having piercing needles.
Her head was unsupported by the table and lolled down between her outstretched arms. If she craned up to the limits of her strength she had been able to watch the old crone sitting between her open legs and jabbing busily with her needle right into the labia themselves. It wasn’t that the pain was more intense than any other, but it was repeated so much and went on and on.
Now at last the work had reached her breast and she prayed that some man or other would pay to use her mouth. It would distract her from the onset of the pain. She was sure the nipple was going to be the worst of all. During the procedure her inverted mouth had been eagerly sought after, the old woman told her that men considered a woman receiving discipline gave the best blow jobs because of trying to scream round the cock in their mouths. Karen was only too glad to oblige, a cock still tasted good and trying to swallow the emission made the pain recede for a second or two.
Her left breast was to form the head of a large cobra. She had been shown the rest of the tattoo in a mirror as it had taken shape and the depraved part of her had taken a liking to it despite the pain it had cost her. From her cunt, from right inside the lips - she had given good head that day, she recalled ruefully - a nest of the serpents boiled out and up across her pelvis but two main ones reared up her stomach, the lesser of these two finished with its head just above her navel and the main one was to be depicted with its mouth gaping and its fangs bared on the breast itself.


Reviews

If you have enjoyed this authors others books you will like this. 4 out of 5 (SM)

Author Information

Sean O'Kane is one of the most prolific erotic authors on the scene. He has developed the phenomenally successful Arena series of novels which have become international best sellers. But has many fine stand-alone titles to his credit.

 

Publisher Information

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