The Persian Girl

by Madeline Moore




Do what thy manhood bids thee do, from none but self expect applause; He noblest lives and noblest dies who makes and keeps his self-made laws.
- Sir Richard Francis Burton British explorer & orientalist (1821 - 1890)



On Wednesday, we chatted with Felix Baron, a writing tutor and an erotica writer who publishes novels with Nexus. Felix's latest release is called The Persian Girl. It recounts an adventure, hitherto unknown, that Sir Richard Burton experienced before he was knighted.



As you may know, he translated The Arabian Nights, The Kama Sutra, and The Perfumed Gardens. A master of disguise, en route to India Sir Richard learned enough Hindi to get off the ship, enrobed, and pass as a Hindu. He entered Mecca as a Muslim. He is acknowledged as the greatest swordsman of all times, and wrote the standard British Army manual on the sabre. Quite the character, hm?



Here's the lovely front cover of The Persian Girl:



and here's what it says on the back:

The auction catalogue read: Lot #217. A tin trunk, circa 1860, containing a number of esoteric volumes, many with curious woodcuts, all in poor condition.

The trunk holds the secret diaries of Sir Richard Francis Burton: soldier, spy, explorer, linguist, diplomat, master of disguise, the greatest swordsman of all time, hero, scoundrel and rake. During the period of his life recounted in 'The Persian Girl', he carouses his way from London to the Himalayas.

From the depraved 'governess', Abigail, and her debauched young wards, to the quartet of nymphs he encounters in a Turkish palace, Burton's journey leads him to his greatest challenge of all - schooling a dozen lusty young wenches in the more arcane arts of the bed chamber.

After that, saving the British Empire from a perfidious Russian plot is easy.

Sound like fun? I'd say so! This novel is a great read, and I'd say that even if Felix Baron wasn't my true love.

I just adore stories that start with the discovery of ancient stuff. In this case, Felix purchased the tin box, in which he discovered the secret writings of Sir Richard Burton. It is known that Sir Richard's wife, Isabel, burned all of his papers that she deemed scurrilous. But Sir Richard, knowing his wife's public prudishness (as well as her private earthiness) must have hidden some of his scandalous stuff in a tin box, only to have it end up in the hands of none other than Felix Baron, erotica writer. How serendipitous!



This first excerpt takes place in the Turkish palace mentioned above. Sir Richard Burton is being pampered by four lovely sylphs:

I was led into a candle-lit chamber that was dominated by a raised dais, not strewn with cushions as I might have expected, but thickly padded and covered in textured cotton. Signs and tugs directed me to recline, on my back, arms and legs spread wide. One fetched hot towels and aromatic unguents. My face was lotioned, covered, kneaded through cotton, then bared for the ministrations of a cut-throat razor. The girl’s strokes were so sure and delicate that it felt as if she were caressing my skin with a goose-feather rather than with a sharp blade.
When she was done, my steaming towels were renewed, but this time only covering my eyes. I was so warm and comfortable that despite the presence of four delightful nymphs, I had almost drifted off to sleep before I became aware that my smallest fingers and toes were being subtly manipulated. The tugs started gently but became stronger, until the joints ‘cracked’ and the ministering fingers moved on to the adjoining toes and fingers.
Their coordination impressed me. Without a pause, the massage moved from finger to finger, toe to toe, until both of my great toes and both of my thumbs ‘popped’ simultaneously.
Strong little fingers dug into my palms and the soles of my feet. It seemed as if each and every one of the bones in those appendages was isolated and manipulated before the probing fingers moved on. My wrists and ankles were deeply massaged, then my forearms and calves. When the girls started on my knees and elbows, I became aware that my digits were being revisited. This time, the girls were using their lips. Again, the sweet treatment progressed from smallest to largest. Each finger and toe was licked and then sucked upon, as if it were a miniature cock being fellated.
The slow progression was incredibly tantalizing but I was happy to surrender to the teasing. It was simultaneously stimulating and relaxing to have ten fingertips fondling each of the creases between my thighs and my torso and caressing my armpits while four soft wet mouths and sinuous tongues played behind my raised knees and on the insides of my elbows.
My erection became almost painful. Gentle lips nuzzled both sides of my neck. There were tongues slithering the lengths of my groins. Fingers brushed my nipples and danced down the arches of my ribs. The two girls who attended to me above my waist were straddling my arms. I lifted my hands to stroke the softness of their bellies. As if in response, all four humped higher upon me. Four mounds bore down. A girlish cunny spread its hot wet lips on each of my insteps. Two more impaled themselves on my fingers. All four lithe lovelies writhed, stimulating themselves as well as me.
A tongue tickled at each corner of my mouth. I turned my head to the left, to suck the sweetness from one eager mouth, then to the right, to sample and compare the other nymph’s oral nectar.
The back of a hand lifted my scrotum. The perineum, called Hui Yin in Taoism, is a Chakra, a centre of spiritual power. It is as sensitive as a lip. The caress I was subjected to was so subtle that for a while I wasn’t sure of its source. Then I realized. The girls were giving me ‘butterfly’ kisses – fluttering their eyelashes on my skin. The sensation was almost unbearably exquisite. I reached a stage when it seemed my climax would be inevitable even though my shaft had not yet been touched unless I delayed it by an effort of will, when all four withdrew.




Oh! Poor Sir Richard!
Well, we mustn't feel too bad for him. He gets plenty of action, as well he might, for he's as talented in bed as he is with a sword. In this excerpt, he has been captured and is being transported along the silk road. One of his companions on the journey is Fatima, a young Egyptian belly-dancer.

She agreed, ‘Slowly and gently. We have all night.’
I wrapped her curvaceous little body in my arms. My fingers found her nipples. I nuzzled and licked into the crook of her neck, a caress I’d discovered she particularly enjoyed. Fatima was less patient. Her fingers curled around my shaft. Her back hollowed, hitching her bottom higher. She steered my cock up between her thighs to the lush warm wetness of her cunny and rubbed its dome between her nether lips and against the hard little button at their juncture. Her gasps were subdued and breathless but within a few moments she gave a delicate shudder and sighed.
‘You said “slowly and gently”,’ I reminded her.
‘That was to give me the patience for “slowly and gently.” Now, tease me, please?’
‘And what manner of teasing does my little harlot have a taste for, tonight?’
‘This manner.’ Once more she guided my shaft, this time presenting it to the pucker between her bum’s cheeks. Her grip was just behind my cock’s head. She rubbed my dome against her opening with increasing pressure until the tight portal to her rear passage relaxed and the head of my cock, just the head, entered her.
Holding me there, she twisted her neck to get her tongue to my mouth. As we kissed, I pressed, gently, but her grip tightened, holding me still.
With a last lascivious lick of my lips, she murmured, ‘Just that deep, no deeper. That’s the best part – when the thickest part of you passes through the narrowest part of me.’
I rocked. My cock’s head plopped through the stricture, and plopped out of it. Each stroke was held in check by her clutching fist. I felt Fatima shiver in my arms in time with my entrances and with my exits. The urge to plunge deep came to me but I resisted. From her swallowed moans and tiny quivers, I was sure that she too was fighting her desire to be totally impaled. My lust stretched and sang, like the string of a violin that was being played even as it was tightened. It became more extreme when I felt that although Fatima’s left hand was restraining me, her right was busy at her cunny.
There was no sudden rush to climax. One second I was slowly sodomising her and enjoying the incredible tension. The next, I spent. My jism had simply flowed out of me.


Want more? Well, The Persian Girl is available in the UK now, and is available for preorder now in the US for a Dec. 9 release (just in time for Christmas!)

Or - Felix will be popping in today to answer any questions you have about research, etc. and I'll be about as well, so pepper us with your questions and comments and one lucky person will win a copy of The Persian Girl.