CHAPTER 114 The Sadistic Swordsman
The baron reached out and grasped the sword by the hilt and then slowly
pulled himself to his feet, dusting an imaginary speck from his immaculate blue
trousers as he did so. "I'm glad that you have finally come to your senses,
fraulein," he sneered contemptuously. He reached out and, slid the length of
his gleaming sword across her hip, as if cleaning its pristine surface of any
microscopic particles of dust that might have settled on it during its brief
contact with the floor. Noticing Erika's puzzled expression, he explained. "I
have had to punish Ju repeatedly, you know, for failing to dust my things with
sufficient care. I detest slovenliness in a woman. In fact, I may punish her
again this evening. But first things first, eh, fraulein?" he added with a
venomous leer.
Then, adroitly flicking a ragged remnant of the torn camisole out of the
way, the Prussian officer touched the tip of his dueling sword to Erika's left
aureole and circled it deftly, letting Erika feel the yin and yang of pain and
pleasure -- the painful prick of the sword-tip against her tender flesh, coupled
with the teasing pressure of the blade's edge against her swelling lust-nugget.
"Lovely," the baron whispered in frank admiration. "Now, my young beauty, be so
kind as to remove the rest of your things."
Erika blushed furiously, but the pressure of the sword-tip against her
nipple enforced her obedience. Her blue eyes flashed daggers at the
impeccably-groomed Prussian as she slipped her thumbs into the waistband of her
half-slip and slid it down her sleek thighs, leaving herself clad only in the
tattered shreds of the camisole and a pair of sheer panties that were damp with
perspiration from the furious struggle on the bed. As she bent forward she
could almost feel the heat of the baron's lecherous gaze slide from the tips of
her pendulous breasts to the clinging wisp of fabric that veiled her
golden-thatched femininity with all the opacity of a spider's web.
When she had stepped out of the half slip, the Baron let his gaze linger on
Erika's bare thighs for a long moment before snapping, "Excellent! Now drape it
over that hook, there. We must keep the captain's quarters tidy, musn't we?
Following his eyes, Erika glanced upward at the low ceiling of the cabin
and saw the hook overhead and her stomach grew queasy as she was reminded of the
dreadful Gwang-zhou once again. But this hook seemed innocent enough; it was
the type from which a flowering plant could be suspended or upon which coats or
other garments could be hung. Holding her slip in both hands she extended both
of her arms upward and ...
WHACCCKKK!!! The baron slammed the flat of his sword viciously across the
front of Erika's naked thighs, less than a hand's width below the lacy fringe of
her panties.
"Owwwww!!" Recoiling in surprise and pain, Erika dropped the slip.
"Did I not tell you to hang the slip on the hook?" the baron snarled.
"B-but ... please ..."
"Do it, slut!" he sneered. "Or shall I send for your maid so that she can
do it for you?"
"No ... please," Erika stammered. "I have done what you asked. Leave her
in peace."
Blinking back tears of pain, Erika tried to keep her eyes on the baron, who
watched her, ogling her near-nakedness malevolently, his sword at the ready, as
she stood on her tiptoes to reach the hook. But try though she might, she could
not drape the garment over the hook properly without glancing upward, and when
she did ...
WHAPPPPP!!! The gleaming steel flashed through the air once again, this
time ripping painfully into soft belly-flesh stretched taut by her reaching
posture.
"Aaaiaahh!!" Erika cried out, but this time she managed to hang the slip
precariously from the hook before doubling over in pain.
The vice-consul had been masterful with his sword. As he whipped it into
the tender flesh of Erika's unprotected abdomen, he had once again turned it in
his hand so skillfully that it had left a livid mark without drawing a drop of
blood.
"Perhaps I shall leave her in peace, fraulein; perhaps not. Her fate is in
your hands. But I must tell you -- there is more that I will ask of you," the
baron gloated in an icy voice. "Much, much more. And I suspect that our
esteemed friend, General Wang, will have his own ... special requests."
Erika felt as if she hurtling downward into a bottomless abyss, in a
nightmare without end. "Baron, I ..."
"Now the camisole!"
Erika glared at the baron, but when he turned the sword slightly and
flicked her inner thigh, opening the thinnest of scarlet gashes, she quickly
stripped off the ruined camisole, baring her luscious breasts.
"Magnificent," Gutmayer whispered under his breath in frank admiration,
using his sword to slap sharply at Erika's right hand, which had lifted the
shredded wad of fabric defensively in front of her jutting pleasure-mounds.
Wincing in pain, Erika lowered her hand, giving the baron his first truly
unobstructed view of her mouthwatering treasures.
The baron's tongue stole across his thin lips slowly as he studied her
creamy orbs with a connoisseur's eye. The faintly visible tracery of blue
pulsing nervously under her sweat-sheened skin reminded him of the irregular
veins which enhanced the perfection of Italian marble. Her aureoles were not
overly large, but they might have painted by Titian, so perfect was their shape
and texture and coloration, a half-tone paler than the pinkish-brown nipples
which rose from their midst, proudly semi-erect.
Deftly using just the tip of his sword, the villainous vice-consul hefted
Erika's left breast gently, testing its weight, its firmness, its spring.
"Magnificent," he breathed once again. No wonder the doctor had named her
'Lorelei'. Only a poet could find words that would do justice to her beauty.
"My compliments, fraulein. You are as beautiful today as when I first saw
you bathed in the sunlight streaming through your window." But then the
momentary softness in his voice took a granite edge. "Now place the camisole on
the hook, as I asked."
Erika reached tremulously upward toward the hook, but hesitated when she
saw that the baron had once again tightened his grip on the sword hilt. And he
was holding his sword arm slightly higher. A fresh wave of panic swept over
her.
"N-no ... please ... you can't ..."
"The camisole, fraulein. On the hook." The baron's voice was chillingly
ruthless.
"Please, Herr Baron ...... " Erika implored as she eyed the silver-bladed
saber warily. "I gave you the sword ... I have done everything you ..."
"The camisole, fraulein!" the baron hissed venomously through clenched
teeth.
Once again Erika stood on her toes, holding the shredded camisole in front
of her. She lifted her elbows cautiously, trying to keep them in front of her
unprotected breasts, but it was useless. To reach the hook, she would need to
extend her arms to their utmost.
"'Hang - it - on - the - hook,' I said," the Prussian sadist growled,
biting off each word with terse impatience.
Erika felt a shudder sweep over her body and then, with a quick motion she
extended her arms, draped the camisole over the hook and tried to bring them
down again quickly, but...
WHAPPPP!!!! The baron had struck again, driving the swift-flashing steel
of the sword into both of Erika's up-thrusting lust-globes at once, crushing
the tips of her breasts, making a painful mockery of their semi-arousal.
"Oh, mein Gott!" Erika fought back the urge to scream, but fell to her
knees cradling her saber-whipped breasts, and writhing in agony.
"Sehr schoen!" the baron exclaimed, with the pride of an artist as he
flicked Erika's concealing hands away with the tip of his sword so that he could
see the effects of his blow. "Beautiful!" Then he added, " Straighten up,
wench, so that I can see you!"
Biting her lip to distract herself from the flames raging through her
throbbing breasts, Erika lowered her hands to her side and knelt erect.
The Prussian sadist placed the blade of his sword between Erika's close-set
breasts and tapped their inner curves gently in turn as he examined her
quivering mounds. "Superb!" he whispered exultantly, with understandable
pride. The gleaming flat of his blade had met the lush contours of his twin
targets with masterful precision, punishing Erika's half-stiffened nipples and
leaving a fiery crimson stripe emblazoned across the very centers of her
succulent breasts. As his experienced eye had calculated, the diameter of
Erika's crinkly coral roseates corresponded almost exactly to the width of his
blade. Even Gauss, the greatest mathematician of the century, the baron
congratulated himself, could not have improved upon the thrilling geometry
formed by the plane of his tempered blade making lightning-swift contact with
the soft, curved surfaces of Erika's breath-taking breasts.
The baron's voice was as sibilant as a serpent, as he bent down and
retrieved the dress he had torn from Erika's body earlier and threw it on the
floor at her feet. He twirled his sword in his hand skillfully, as if he were
loosening up for the next round of a Satanic fencing match. "Back on your feet,
fraulein," he muttered with a Mephistophelean leer. "You haven't yet hung up
your dress...."
