Discarded by the Rajah
The Rajah's harem is getting too full, so he decides to discard one. A'isha is sent to someone known only as "the Servant". The Servant has taken care of many excess concubines, but A'isha is different. She knows perfectly well what lies in store for her, but she is not afraid. She has often fantasized about this, now it will come true.
This story was written as a sequel to "Servant of the Rajah" by the writer/artist known as "d_que". This is told from the POV of one of the concubines that the "Servant" is supposed to strangle.
That is a most interesting story, how you strangled an escaped concubine -- a murderess -- and how the Rajah rewarded you by raising you to the nobility and making you his official Strangler. It must be very exciting to have concubines sent to you when the Rajah tires of them. And so they report to you with a silk scarf tied around their necks, and you pull it tight until they stop moving, and then a little longer? Yes.
I have a story of my own, one that I think you'll find interesting. But first, do you mind if I take off my shoes?
My story starts when I was only 13, and just beginning the change from girl to woman. I hadn't started my monthly flow yet and I had no idea what was happening to me. I was out walking one day with my brother and a servant and we chanced on a square where a criminal was being put to death. The crowd was really excited so we thought it would be interesting, and my brother and I bribed our bodyguard to let us stay and watch.
They brought a squirrel out with his hands already tied behind him. His tail was down, nearly dragging on the ground. There was a rope with the end tied in a noose dangling from a bridge. A cat and a stag grasped the squirrel by the thighs and lifted him into the air; an ocelot slipped the noose around his neck. Someone read out the squirrel's death sentence, then they let go of him and ...
Well, at first he just hung there quietly, then he started twisting and jumping like mad. But after maybe a hundred heartbeats he seemed to calm down or something. His tail rose until it was nearly vertical behind him, his toes pointed straight down and his legs stretched out as far as they could, his and then his hips started moving back and forth. They'd put old, loose, clothes on him but even so the effect it was having on him was obvious. His hips pumped faster and faster, then he just sort of froze there with his back arched and his hips way forward, then he pumped some more but slower.
After that the squirrel started struggling again but not nearly as hard, and pretty soon he just slowed down and stopped. They took his body away a short time later and I could hardly wait to get home. I imagined myself up there struggling with that noose around my neck. As soon as I was alone I started moving my hips like that criminal had. Somehow I got a blanket tangled between my legs and eventually had my first orgasm.
I know it's getting cooler, but I'm actually feeling quite warm from telling this story. May I slip off this jacket? Thank you, I feel better now.
After that I bought fewer sweetmeats and trinkets on market days. I saved my coins to bribe the servants; I got to hearing a lot of the gossip and arranged to watch as many hangings as I could. Most of the males just struggled in pain until they sort of ran down, but about one in ten behaved like the first one I'd watched. Whenever that happened I'd find an excuse to rush us home so I could tend to my need. I'd work out a mental picture of myself hanging from the rope and rub myself, sometimes from the early morning execution until I was called to the midday meal.
You know, I really don't think I need this tunic, since there's just the two of us here and I belong to you now, in a way.
As you mentioned, the Rajah receives many slave girls as gifts. I was sent because my family are distant relations to the chief of a small sultanate, north and west of what you call The Punjab.
Oh, no. I'm not trying to frighten you out of killing me. I think the key word there is "distant". But I had to mention it to help explain what comes next.
Why? Well, a few years later Fatima Amjad, a high-born femme, did something awful. No, I just won't talk about it. The tradition was to hang males, but femmes were beheaded. The trouble was, Fatima was too important -- and beautiful -- for a public beheading. Besides, they wanted her to suffer for her crime. I heard about it and used my family's influence so I could watch.
They brought Fatima into a private courtyard in the palace. She was a beautiful marmot, and still looked haughty, even going to her death. Two soldiers moved to strip her of her clothes, but she waved them away and slowly stripped naked, neatly folding each garment as she took it off. She knelt in front of a short post that stuck out of the ground, and the soldiers tied her feet behind it, then her hands.
The marmot held her head proudly erect as the executioner looped a piece of rope twice around her neck, then around the post and tied it off. He put a stick into the rope and twisted it until her breathing grew raspy. I was sitting close enough I could hear it and see the rope biting into her neck.
The wolf held the stick like that for a long time, then gave it another half twist. And held it again, it seemed like forever. Several more turns at the same slow pace before Fatima started really panting. Then the wolf held it even longer before he twisted again. After several more slow turns, the marmot's back arched as she struggled to breathe, and her face contorted -- in pain? lust? I couldn't be sure.
I think they intended it as torture, but the marmot was naked and I could see her nipples erect. Her eyes had that glazed look -- a femme in the throes of passion. And her thighs and buttock muscles were clenched, even harder than her back muscles. She probably just started out trying to be brave, but by the end she was enjoying it, I could tell.
I don't need this halter either. It's supposed to keep me from sagging, but I don't think that will ever happen. Ahh, that feels more comfortable.
But all good things must come to an end; after a another half-twist Fatima seemed to change. Her back relaxed as if she didn't care about breathing any more and her thighs clenched and loosened rhythmically. But then her tongue hung loose from her mouth and at last she sagged, hanging loose from the pole. The wolf twisted the stick again and held it awhile to make sure, then they came and took the marmot's body away.
No, the only one who was tortured that day was me. That execution lasted most of the morning and I was in an agony of frustration the whole time. I was squeezing my thighs together surreptitiously, but it wasn't enough. I had to wait until I got home to satisfy my need. I didn't even stop for the midday meal -- I pretended I was sick from watching Fatima die. But I spent the whole afternoon, repeatedly rubbing myself, pausing when I couldn't stand it any more -- taking a luxurious bath, and then starting over. And the whole time I was imagining it was me tied to that post, with that rope slowly choking the life out of me.
I don't need these harem pants either; may I take them off? Thank you.
Oh, I'm nearly done with my story. I never got to watch another slow strangulation like that again. But I watched hangings whenever I could, and in between I used my imagination and sometimes I'd hold my breath until I fainted.
One day the Sultan needed a favor from your Rajah. He offered many hand-woven carpets, but that wasn't enough. So he added a relative as a slave-girl to convince the Rajah of his sincerity. That's how I came to be added to the Rajah's harem. I stayed there many years, while I grew from a nubile mouse-girl to the mature femme you see before you. But the Rajah, as you said, receives many slave girls, and today I have been sent to you with this scarf around my neck. You told me about slaves who plead for mercy, or are resigned to their fate, or fight for their lives, or choose to be drugged so they don't care. You mentioned how some try for a final pleasure as you end their lives. But you can see the effect your story had on me -- how hard my nipples have grown. I don't think you've ever met one who was excited by what you offer.
In Persia it is traditional for a condemned femme to offer herself to the hangman as a bribe of sorts, in hopes of a more merciful death.
So I think it only fitting that I should offer you the same "bribe". Not to beg for mercy: there is nothing I desire more than to feel this scarf tighten around my neck forever, the last thing I will ever feel. So... would you like to experience my skills? You can take me from in front, or in my other entrance. Or...
I know! There is one thing I can offer that no other concubine has ever given you.
Oh, yes, I'm sure that both predators and prey have offered to pleasure you with their mouths in the hope that you would keep them around for a few days, weeks, months. But that is not my purpose. I want nothing more than to feel this scarf tighten around my neck and know that I will never breathe again.
And to thank you for that, I offer you something unique. Make yourself comfortable in that chair. I will kneel before you and take your bear-cock in my mouth. And I hope you will pull the scarf, but not all the way at first. Just enough to make my breath rasp in my throat -- a foretaste of my very brief future. Then, when my lips and tongue have brought you the pleasure we both desire, I hope you will pull the scarf tighter. And wait a while -- as long as seems right to you. And then tighter. And then tighter yet, until my face turns blue as Fatima's did, and there is only a dead mouse lying limp at your feet, your semen dripping from her lips.
Oh, you have a very pretty one. Quite tasty, too. I am very glad that the Rajah did not have it removed for the liberties you had taken with his ex-concubine. See how my tail curves up in anticipation? A little tighter, please. I don't think I need to speak again -- you know what to do, you have done it many times.
That feeling again... forever this time... Tighter... Yes...