Chapter 117 The Degradation of Erika Weiss
When the baron's right boot shone so that Erika could see her pale
reflection in it, he extended his sword and slapped her sharply across her left
cheek, directing her toward his other boot. Erika's pain-brightened blue eyes
glared at him briefly, until the pressure of his sword on the back of her neck
forced her blonde head back down toward his boots. Her rage turned to
revulsion grew when Baron Gutmayer undid his Prussian blue trousers and
liberated his thick, meaty member.
Still holding the gold-hilted sword in his right hand, the vice-consul
fixed his eyes on Erika's superb breasts while he stroked his man-weapon slowly
and pleasurably with his left. He pointed his cock-tip directly at her pendulous
mangos, and it responded to his obscene caresses as if it had an eye of its own,
swelling to a most impressive massiveness as the blonde Rhine-maiden worshipped
his other boot with her mouth.
She slavishly polished the baron's right boot with her lips and tongue,
feeling the firm pressure of his sword-blade against the back of her neck
whenever she slackened her efforts.
When the second boot was as glossy as the first, Gutmayer stood up, his
pulsing erection jutting hungrily out of his military trousers.
"Very nice, my dear, very nice indeed," the baron said as he pulled Erika's
hair until she was kneeling upright, with her hands still clasped around the
bedrail behind her, and her rounded buttocks planted firmly against the edge of
the bed. "And now, fraulein, I have something else for you to polish with that
talented tongue of yours."
The baron stepped closer, still holding the sword in his right hand,
crushing his throbbing genitals against Erika's breasts, enjoying the feel of
their pillowy warmth and softness against his rigid penis and his swollen
testicles. He noticed with satisfaction that the pressure of his body against
her love-mounds caused beads of crimson to ooze from the thin gash on her pink
roseate.
"Now, my sweet, pretend that I am that dirty Jew lover of yours and
pleasure me as you pleasured him."
"You filthy swine!" Erika hissed, "Dr. Kauffmann never laid a hand on me!"
The baron stepped back and lifted his sword threateningly. Erika, follow
the shining blade with fear-filled eyes, giving the baron his opening. With a
quick, compact movement, he drove the toe of his right boot into Erika's
stomach, just beneath the ribcage on the left of her deep-notched navel. By no
means hard enough to injure her severely, but hard enough to cause her to double
up in pain.
"Ouwwwwww!" Erika's hands flew forward to protect her tender belly, but it
was too late.
"You were told keep your hands behind your back, fraulein!" the baron
exclaimed with a venomous scowl, as he prodded Erika's tender tummy with the tip
of his sword-blade until her arms were once again clasped behind her back. "And
I do not tolerate disobedience!"
"So the good doctor never laid a hand on you? Tell the truth you lying
whore!" he raved returning to the subject of Daniel Kauffmann. "I watched him
examine you from the next room. I saw him put his hands on these..." and the
baron slid the flat of his sword-blade across the tips of Erika's outthrust
breasts.
Erica held her breath in terror until the baron pulled the sword away..
"He's a doctor, you pig! Of course he touched me!'
"A pig, am I?" the tall Prussian bellowed as he moved quickly to one side,
so that he stood at right angles to the kneeling blonde. "Stick your tits out!"
he whispered evilly, letting the sharp edge of the sword rest on Erika's
distended nipples. "Unless you want to lose these!"
"N-no ... please! Don't cut me."
"Shoulders back! Tits out!" he barked. "Just like you did for the Jew.
Do you think I didn't see how you posed for him, slut?" he sneered, as he tapped
the luscious curves of her breasts with the tip of his sword. "You practically
shoved these beauties in his face!"
Erika flushed crimson. While the baron's obscenities were grossly
exaggerated, there was a kernel of truth to them. She had indeed stood proudly
erect when the doctor had examined her. She had indeed thrust her chest out,
albeit more subtly than the baron's coarse accusations warranted, in order to
look her best.
"Well!?!"
Silently cursing the feminine vanity that had brought her to such a sorry
plight, Erika closed her azure eyes and did as the baron ordered, throwing her
shoulders back so that her breasts jutted out provocatively. She could feel her
upper body trembling like a leaf in a breeze.
Gutmayer stood at her side, calmly studying the almost imperceptibly faint
bluish tracery that veined Erika's pale, succulent breast-globes. Then his thin
lips turned upward slightly as his cruel mouth formed itself into an evil leer.
A moment later Erika felt the flashing steel of the baron's sword sear the
tops of her tender breasts, leaving a fiery swath of pain across the upper
curves of both of her burning pleasure-mounds.
"Aaaghh! Gott! ... Gott!" Erika moaned piteously. She desperately wanted
to cradle her tender breasts in her soft hands and caress them gently, but her
wrists were bound by the wrath of the baron.
"It strikes me that we have coddled you during your days of leisure at the
embassy, and it seems that you have forgotten the training that I'm told you
received. I'm afraid that George Chan may have to give you a new regimen of
discipline --a more severe one - when I return you to him," the baron added
coolly as Erika shook her head in disbelief.
The baron sawed the flat of his sword back and forth across the livid mark
he had just made, just above her pointed nipples, enjoying the way Erika's
defenseless globes trembled at the touch of his saber.
"Nein ... nein ..." Erika murmured almost inaudibly. "Bitte ..."
"But perhaps General Wang intends to correct your rebellious spirit himself
before he returns you to the Chans. I am told that he is a most imaginative
man," the baron added in a chilling voice, as he lifted the blade so that Erika
was staring directly at its keen edge. "But just in case he is not ..."
CRACCKK!! With a compact flick of his wrist, the baron smacked the flat
edge of the blade down on Erika's tender breasts yet again, the sword falling so
precisely on top of his earlier blow that there seemed to be only one livid
stripe.
The agony, attacking as it did breast-flesh that was still burning from the
prior blow, was both cruel and immeasurable. Erika's shoulders shuddered with
half-stifled sobs as waves of pain coursed through her ripe-nippled breasts.
The import of the baron's words was almost as awful as the sword-blow.
Erika closed her tear-filled eyes as her mind spun in horror; she had only spent
a few hours with the General and his friends, but it had seemed an eternity.
She could not imagine spending days, much less weeks, under his brutal thumb.
The baron interrupted her anxious ruminations. "Fraulein, your
carelessness is reprehensible. Look at my boot!"
Erika opened her blue eyes. The baron was once again standing directly in
front of her. The impact of his last sword-blow had caused a droplet of blood
to drip from the cut he had opened on her left aureole earlier down onto the toe
of his gleaming right boot.
"Well!!"
Erika bent low from the waist, and licked the crimson beads from the black
leather with a quick flick of her tongue.
"Do not swallow! The general tells me that you've been very well trained.
We shall see." The baron once again closed the distance between them, but this
time, rather than rubbing his erection against Erika's scarlet-wealed breasts,
he pulled her face down toward his throbbing manhood. "Do not forget,
fraulein," he snapped, before abandoning himself to pleasure, "that if you fail
to please me sufficiently, your friend Ju will dine with Gwang-zhou tonight!"
Trapped in her own sea of suffering, Erica had almost forgotten the
swarthy, sinister crewman she had noticed when she had boarded the Yang-tze
Dragon. Earlier the baron had told her a gruesome tale of how Gwang-zhou had
come to have a hook for a right hand, and of his horrible penchant for using the
hook on the bodies of young and beautiful women.
As she felt the Baron press his swollen penis against her face, Erika
remembered flashes of the harsh training regimen she had endured at George
Chan's lodge on the island in that far-away mountain lake. Ming-tsu had
drilled her for hours on how to pleasure a man with her lips and tongue, making
frequent use of a flexible English riding crop which she had found in a cabinet
of erotic paraphernalia to emphasize some of the finer points in her cruel
curriculum.
Li Chang had been the fortunate beneficiary of these enforced lessons in
love-making, but even with a fellow-student as delectable as Erika, his virility
had waned after a time. After each examination Erika had had to toil ever more
diligently to restore him to his full manly vigor, under the watchful eye and
the increasingly active whip of her stern taskmistress. By the time the lesson
was over, the pale curves of her backside were as rosy and tender as her
sunburned back.
And so it was that the flesh-stinging crop of Ming-tsu had taught Erika how
to please a man with her mouth with flesh-tingling efficiency, both with and
without the use of her hands. Some time later, back in Shanghai, at the
conclusion of the depraved banquet at which she had been the centerpiece, she
had been compelled to demonstrate her mastery of the oral art on each of the six
attendees, and all agreed that she had been superbly schooled in the fine art of
fellatio. The crouching tigress had even managed to satisfy General Wang's
ancient uncle, over whose hidden dragon she had labored for nearly an hour his
withered manhood had spit a feeble fountain of lust. {Chapter 22}
With her memory restored, all of the sensual tricks that Ming-tsu had
taught her were at Erika's disposal. And the baron insisted on a thorough
exhibition of her powers, lifting his heavy erection so that the first touch of
her blood-reddened tongue would apply a red smear to his pebbly scrotum. That
accomplished, he forced Erika to lick and suck every inch of his lust-heavy
ball-sac until he was groaning with pleasure.
Only when his testicles were tingling with masculine desire, did he offer
the tip of his pulsing cock to Erika's oral caresses. He let her tongue dance
nimbly around its bulbous purple head, teasing its countless nerve-endings to
the very pinnacle of pleasure, before offering her a little more of his weapon
for her to taste and worship. He fed his rapacious manhood to her gradually,
letting her lavish her erotic talents upon it, allowing her to gradually do
homage to its entire length with her lips and tongue, but without ever really
taking it into her mouth.
It was only when the baron's groans of pleasure came faster and more
audibly, that Erika began to use the inside of her mouth and throat, enveloping
his virility in her warm oral cavern.
Erika hesitated twice during this exercise in servility, but each time the
baron pressed the sharp tip of his sword into her upper thigh and growled,
"Remember Gwang-zhou!" Determined not to let the gentle and innocent Ju fall
into the hands of the brutal Chinaman, Erika redoubled her efforts.
She began using her entire mouth to please her cruel countryman,
swirling her mouth around his thick organ, bathing it in moistness and warmth
and then diving downward onto his dark-veined cock like a cormorant dipping his
head under water in pursuit of a fat fish. The baron emitted a bestial growl as
he filled both of his hands with Erika's golden hair and thrust forward and
upward with his hips and thighs. Erika met his virile, rutting lunges halfway,
her mouth fitting around his swollen cock like an elbow-length glove, whilea she
felt his taut thigh-muscles pressing even harder against her breasts. Deeper
and deeper the baron plunged, his body vibrating with pleasure, until he finally
gave vent to a convulsive roar and drove his cock hilt-deep into Erika's mouth
and throat with a final surge of passion. When he finally exploded, it was with
a cataclysmic shudder of sensation whose first burst drenched Erika's mouth in a
Gotterdammerung-like flood of Rhine-semen.
So aroused was he by his sadistic sword-flogging and his brutal domination
of the boot-licking blonde, that time seemed to stand still during the baron's
orgiastic Twilight of the Gods. He seemed to ejaculate forever, pumping his
spurting cock into the 'O' formed by Erika's soft lips as he sent jet after jet
of creamy Deutschen-samen into the warmth of her mouth. When he finally
withdrew his fleshy cannon from Erika's mouth it was still dripping.
His satisfaction evident from his lewd smile, the baron concluded his
depraved assault by emptying his flesh-weapon into Erika's face, splattering her
lips and chin with his last few strands of seed. He held his dripping penis
against her pink lips for a moment, enjoying the look of repugnance in her eyes,
and then gave his thick cock a triumphant squeeze, oozing a thick drop of semen
onto Erika's lower lip. He smiled disdainfully again and then pulled her head
back and then he pressed his half-erect phallus against Erika's scarlet-streaked
left breast, and squeezed the last few drops of sperm onto the thin gash he had
opened with his sword, as if his dribbles of sperm were a healing salve.
"Very nice, fraulein, very nice indeed. We have removed all doubts as to
whether you're a slut, now, haven't we?" he taunted her cynically, before
wiping his cockshaft carefully on her blonde hair, and then tucking it back into
his still-immaculate trousers. As Erika hung her head in shame, he replaced the
armchair that had stood in for his father's favorite schwarzer Stuhl and then he
strolled jauntily toward the curtain he had closed earlier, and opened it so
that any passing sailors on the starboard side of the ship would be treated to
the eye-catching sight of Erika's naked back and the uppermost inch or two of
the cleft between her nicely-rounded buttocks.
Catching a reflection of himself in the glass, he smoothed his blonde hair
into place and then turned back toward Erica, who was still kneeling as he had
left her, too shamed and stunned to move. "Unfortunately, fraulein," he said as
he slid his sword back into his bejeweled scabbard, " I must bid you 'auf
Wiedersehen', but I am confident that General Wang will see to it that you are
not left unatten ... "
The baron's mocking words were interrupted by a firm knock at the door. He
took two quick steps toward the entrance to the cabin and threw the door open,
revealing General Wang and another man, a Chinese of middle age dressed in
mandarin robes of burnt orange, standing in the doorway. Erika heard a sudden
intake of breath as the two men looked into the room.
"When my men saw the curtain open, Herr Baron, I took it as a signal that
your ... interview ... with our young friend had reached its conclusion,"
General Wang said, as his eyes peered past the German baron to the golden-haired
beauty who still knelt facing the door, her thighs and behind pressed against
the near side of the captain's bed, her legs extending under it. Her arms were
still extended behind her, clutching the bed-rail, and the three livid scarlet
bands and scattered splashes of semen that defiled her out-thrust breasts were
mute testimony to the nature of her "interview" with the baron.
"Yes, quite done, thank you, General. I found her most satisfactory, once
I had quashed a certain rebelliousness in her spirit."
"Yes, I see," replied the general, eyeing the marks on Erika's breasts
doubtfully. "Indeed; I remember that quality in her nature. She is the type of
woman that requires a firm hand. And until George Chan and I come to terms, I'll
see to it that she shall have it. But Baron," he added, gesturing toward the
humiliated blonde, "I had no idea that you were going to leave her with such
obvious ... souvenirs of your encounter."
"I wouldn't worry about George Chan, if I were you," snorted the baron
irritably as he cast a glance at the horizontal stripes the flat of his blade
had left on Erika's opulent breasts. "From what I know of him, he'll consider
those beauty marks!"
"Even so, Baron," General Wang bowed, still smiling but with an
unmistakable hint of steel in his voice. "You would do well to remember that we
of the east appreciate subtlety as well as brute force." Then, with a bow that
was meant to convey calm, Confucian solemnity, he continued. "A good host does
not begrudge his friends the enjoyment of the flowers in his garden; but it is
considered discourteous to damage another man's flowerbed without his
permission. Is it not so in your country?"
Gutmayer returned Wang's glance coolly, his frosty demeanor making it
clear that the Prussian aristocrat didn't care for being lectured on the
niceties of how and when to mistreat a woman by the likes of General Wang.
"Enough of this nonsense. Are you backing out of our agreement, General?"
"Baron, you insult me, " Wang snapped through tight lips. "And you cause
me to me lose face in the presence of my old friend," he added gesturing toward
the man in the orange robes. "I am a man of honor; I promised to settle your
debts with the Chans if you brought me the girl, and I will do so."
Then, aware that tempers were growing short, General Wang raised his hand
amicably. "But enough of that. Herr Baron, have you met my friend?"
Baron Gutmayer looked at the cold-eyed Chinaman blankly, but Erika
remembered him well. The man on the general's right was Hsi Fong, the ruthless
Commissioner of the Imperial Seal, clad elegantly in a orange mandarin's robe,
and wearing the large signet ring emblematic of his high office. Erika
shuddered as she remembered how Fong had sat at the general's right hand at the
banquet and how he had abetted each of the general's cruel whims. She
particularly remembered the sadistic smile he had given her when he had turned
the jagged surface of his stone-encrusted ring inward before taking his turn at
slapping her breasts. The sharp, protruding edges of the ring had gouged her
sensitive breasts each time he had struck her, and had left marks that had
lasted for days.
The baron and the commissioner exchanged stiff, cautious bows, Fong hardly
taking his eyes off of Erika's naked body while the general made the
introductions. "Hsi Fong, Baron," the general explained, "has seen to it that a
young woman with the proper documents will board that British liner, using
fraulein Weiss's ticket. No one will ever know that the real Erika Weiss never
stepped foot on that ship."
Tears of misery welled up in Erika's eyes at this news. She lamented the
fact that these villains had obviated all of the trouble and expense to which
Daniel Kauffman had gone. She would die, or worse, languish in the throes of
sexual slavery, while all of his letters to her went unreturned, leading him to
think her ungrateful. That thought preyed on her mind more than her own
immediate sufferings.
The baron was just about to leave through the cabin door when Erika was
startled to see the swarthy sailor with the livid scar on his neck poke his head
through the door.
Gwang-zhou! The man with the hook! {Chapter 111} Erika shuddered as the
ear-ringed cutthroat answered her shocked expression with a hideous grin.
"General!" Gwang-zhou interrupted them excitedly in a gravelly voice.
"Cheng is just boarding the ship. He says he has important news from the city!"
"It had better be important, Deng-shan! Can't you see that we're busy
here?"
"Deng-shan?" Erika stammered, looking at the Baron with a puzzled
expression. ""B-but I thought you said his name was Gwang-zhou?"
Hans Gutmayer gave Erika a look of sublime contempt. "General, could you
ask, er, Deng-shan to step into the room? It will take but a moment."
"As you wish, Baron," the general snapped irritably, visibly annoyed by
this diversion. "You heard the baron! Come forward!"
The three men parted, allowing the bare-chested sailor to step into the
room and get a good look at the voluptuous blonde captive. And she at him.
'Gwang-zhou' lifted his right arm, whose muscular triceps sported a
striking tattoo of a woman chained to a whipping post, to wipe at his mouth as
his lecherous eyes devoured Erika's nakedness. Intimidated by the officers in
the room, he said nothing, but the curl of his lip left no doubt that he would
like nothing more than an hour or two with the first female passenger that the
Yang-tze Dragon had seen in years.
Erika stared at his right hand in stunned disbelief. "Your hook?" she
whispered breathlessly. "What happened to your hook?"
Deng-shan and the Chinese officials looked at each other blankly, until an
amused Baron Gutmayer interrupted the silence.
"You really should have killed me when you had the chance, fraulein," he
began with a patronizing smile. "I was sure that I was a dead man. Our gullible
guest, gentlemen," he went on, turning toward General Wang and Hsi Fong, "
believed me when I told her a ridiculous story about your crewman." He turned
again toward Erika, giving her a mocking glance. " Do you still believe in the
gnomes and trolls of the Brothers Grimm, too, you silly wench?" he asked, in a
voice dripping with scorn and derision.
Erika's head dropped in chagrin. How could she have been so stupid? She
could have slit the villainous baron's throat in a heartbeat, had she not been
such a fool.
"General, would you be so good as to show fraulein Weiss the card I gave
you earlier?"
Erika remembered. The baron had told her that he had written Ju's name and
whereabouts on his calling card. When she had managed to gain the upper hand,
he had warned her that if he were harmed, the general would use the card to find
Ju and bring her back to the Yang-tze Dragon and serve her up to Gwang-zhou and
the rest of his cut-throat crew.
"But, why?" the general asked, turning the card over in his hands. "It is
an ordinary business card."
The other men, beginning to understand the baron's ruse, joined in the
mocking laughter as the Prussian officer stepped past them and out into the
corridor. Erika felt more miserable at that moment than she had when the baron
had flogged her with his saber. The baron had concocted the stories about
Gwang-zhou and his hook, and the fatal business card, and she had fallen for
them like a child.
"Enjoy her well, general," were the baron's parting words as he turned and
strode back toward the gangplank. As he did so, a be-spectacled young Chinese
in an olive-drab uniform bumped into him recklessly, and then rushed past him en
route to the captain's cabin. Brushing himself off irritably, the baron
concluded that this wild-eyed young man must be the Cheng of whom Deng-shan had
spoken.
********
Hans Gutmayer was in a buoyant mood as he strolled down the gangplank, and
onto the curved walkway that led back to his waiting carriage. He glanced at
his pocket watch and smiled to himself. He had timed his stay on the boat well.
He would arrive back at the embassy with just enough time to review his notes in
preparation for a dinner with the commercial attache.
And after dinner, he mused a few minutes later, as he climbed into the
coach humming the pulsing Venusberg theme from Tannhauser, a glass of cognac and
then ... what? As the coach set off for the embassy, the baron cast his
thoughts back to the magnificent young creature he had betrayed to General Wang.
Despite the fact that Erika had drained his manhood to the core, the thought of
her kneeling against the captain's bunk, nude and trembling at the prospect of
being left alone with the General and his cut-throat crew, sent faint stirrings
of pleasure through his genitals which had been so utterly depleted only a short
time ago.
Surreptitiously brushing his hand against his tingling crotch, the baron
glanced out of the carriage and was struck by the fact that the streets of
Shanghai, always crowded, always full of life, were unusually tumultuous this
evening. A number of men, many of them in black shirts, were running headlong
through the streets, seemingly swept up in some sort of disturbance. Strange,
he thought, how a people whose culture was so steeped in philosophy, were so
often caught up in the restless turbulence of the modern age.
Urging his driver to speed up and return to the relative safety of the
embassy, the baron poked his head out of the carriage, his roving eye searching
the sea of pedestrians, as it often did, for a pretty female face or a graceful
girlish body. A short time later, the carriage stopped at an intersection
within a block or so of Madame Wong's House of Pleasure, where he had first
encountered the Brothers Chan. Two young women, exotically dressed in colorful,
skin-tight cheong-sams, were walking toward the bordello. The taller of the
two, a voluptuous Eurasian beauty whose full breasts seemed destined to burst
the bodice-buttons on her scarlet dress, was whispering to her companion, a
laughing-eyed, golden-skinned temptress in turquoise. Behind them, a
black-shirted escort followed closely, making sure that his charges were neither
accosted nor distracted from making their appearance at the brothel at the
appointed hour. As they walked, the baron watched the two pairs of golden
thighs play a tantalizing game of peek-a-boo with the panels of their high-slit
skirts.
The sight of the girl from the Mekong valley, whom he recognized as a young
Annamese courtesan named Binh, settled his plans for his evening at the embassy.
He remembered a comment he had overheard one night while he had been lounging in
Madame Wong's salon. He had been sipping a glass of the madame's best riesling
and evaluating her inventory of beautiful young women with a mercantile eye,
when he'd overheard a portly English banker tell a friend that a French planter
in Indo-China had trained young Binh, from the time she was fourteen, to give
and receive anal pleasure. In the five years' since, the Frenchman's system of
alternating modest rewards and stern discipline had indeed, according to the
banker, achieved its purpose. For Binh, now, was one of the relatively few
young women of her age and beauty who craved the forbidden pleasures of anal
lovemaking, even as her talented tongue had been taught, at whip's end, to
bestow them.
As the two courtesans turned toward the House of Pleasure, Hans Gutmayer
watched Binh's deliciously rounded derriere dance under the silken cheong-sam as
the two women leisurely made their way down the street, their young breasts
bouncing under the clinging cheong-sams. For a moment the turmoil in the
streets quieted as dozens of men stood frozen in place longingly watching the
slow progress of the two alluring pleasure-girls, whose charms would have cost
most of them a month's wages to enjoy. Binh's services, the banker had said,
were booked for weeks in advance by Europeans who were willing to pay dearly to
have her incredible rectal muscles milk the juice from their cockshafts. But it
was the thought of her even rarer and equally-prized oral talents that had
provided the inspiration for the Baron's newly-conceived after-dinner plans.
Yes, he thought to himself. That would indeed be a most stimulating new
depravity to which he could subject Ju, his petite China doll. The baron leaned
back against the carriage seat and closed his eyes, picturing himself leaning
over his desk facing the stack of coins that he would use to bribe the
impoverished beauty. With Ju Hua kneeling behind him, the image of their nude
bodies would be captured by half a dozen mirrors that he would carefully
pre-position in a hexagonal galerie des glaces, to maximize her humiliation.
Confronted with the alternative of a frightful flogging, Ju would be forced to
use her slender, elegant fingers to bathe his sensitive anus and his swelling
genitals with hot soapy water. But the teasing and cleansing would only be an
aperitif to the main course.
Opening an eye just a crack to make sure that the coachman's gaze was
fixed on the road ahead, the baron casually brushed his hand across his crotch
again, feeling his swelling manhood quiver in response to his stealthy touch.
Then he closed his eyes again and breathed deeply as he visualized Ju spreading
his nether-cheeks with her tiny hands and inserting her pink probing tongue deep
into his rectal canal, while one girlish hand reached between his legs to caress
his heavy testicles.
"Schnell!" he rasped to the driver a moment later, in a voice thick with
lust. "I have important business to attend to tonight!"
