She obeys, reluctantly

“Please, Sir, let me return to my rooms.” Riya backs away from me nervously. “Where are my maidservants? Where is my mother.”

“By now, your mother's probably servicing her seventh or eighth horny trooper.” I laugh coarsely still trying to maintain the English accent. “Your handmaidens are luckier, two of my junior officers have claimed them as their prizes, so they won't be passed around as much as the others.”

“That's barbaric!” I can see Riya's excitement even as she protests in her heavy accent. I shrug my shoulders casually and settle back on my bed and hit the remote to the sound system.

“Dance.” I order as the sounds of a traditional folk song fill the room. “As long as I am entertained by watching you, you can stay off the bed.” Riya's dark eyes widen as she realizes the predicament the maharaja's daughter is in. If she dances too well, she'll enflame the lust of her captor, but if she doesn't please him then her dreaded fate will come that much sooner.

With the first graceful lifting of her hands it is clear that Riya has been trained in this style of traditional dance. It's different from what I'm used to, certainly different from the wild gyrations of today's teenagers but all the same I am getting painfully erect as I watch her.

“Very nice.” I growl as I fish the throbbing erection out of my pants. “Now take off some of those extra layers. I want to see more of your little brown body.” Her eyes lower to where my fist is stroking my shaft languidly and her dance stops in midstep.

“No ... you couldn't ... you mustn't!” She really is quite charming as the innocent damsel with her silk saree and golden jewelry. If I were that eighteenth century British officer, I'd fuck the shit out of this Hindi beauty.

“Oh yes, I could ... and I must.”