Chapter 19: Questions, Always Questions

At breakfast, Caroline asked nonchalantly, "Which of the concubines did you use last night?"

"Mind your own business," her husband replied, "You should know better than to ask personal questions about matters which do not concern you."

"I only ask because none of the women were missing at midnight when we were having a quiet game of whist," she replied, "And there was a rumour that you were visited by someone from the Emir's harem."

"As I said, it is no business of yours what happens in my room when you are not in it," said the butler angrily, "And whom did the rumour suggest might have visited me?"

"The eunuchs seemed to think it was one of the Emir's wives, and not for the first time, either. Please be careful; just because the Emir had me, that doesn't mean you can have one of his women."

"You do not need to teach me palace protocol or good manners woman," her husband snarled, "Not unless you want some more of the riding crop visiting your skin."

"As the Master pleases," Caroline replied with a grin, "But seriously, do be careful. There are no secrets in the Golden Palace you know."

After lunch, I will teach you not to question me, and you will not enjoy it," he threatened.

"Oh, but I think I will," was the rejoinder, and he decided the time had come to teach her a real lesson.

After lunch Robinson sought out the Chief Eunuch and asked for some advice. Acting on what he had been told, he took the instrument the Chief Eunuch recommended and made his way back to his own quarters, carrying the loaned persuader. Leaving it in his bedroom, he found his wife and led her into the room. As she bared herself he fingered her clitoris and laid her on the bed on her back. He slipped his manhood deep into her womb for a single stroke and then withdrew.

"Face down on the whipping bench," he ordered.

Caroline obeyed gleefully, expecting another brief whipping and then a very satisfying fuck. Robinson surprised her a little by fastening her down with the handcuffs and ankle cuffs fitted to the bench.

Then he blindfolded her.

Her cunt started to drip as she thought that perhaps another man was to fuck her again, and she tried to decide to whom she might be given this time. Not the Emir again, surely?

Sississis ... CRACKACKACK!

Her scream of agony was very real as the multi-tailed whip laid nine separate trails of burning agony across her shoulder blades. This was not the sexual warm-up on the arse which she had expected, even wanted; this was real punishment and she did not feel in the least aroused by it.

When she had regained control of herself she was appalled to realise that she had wet herself, and she pleaded, "No, please no more. That isn't pleasure at all."

"Not for you it isn't," her husband replied heartlessly, "It isn't supposed to be. It is supposed to be punishment and a lesson in your place in my life in Kobekistan."