Chapter 136 The Night of the Seven Torments (Part I)
Chapter 136 The Night of the Seven Torments (Part I)
When the last straggler had coughed up the price of admission to Deng-shan,
Jasper Slegg turned his attention to Erika Weiss. The German beauty was the
newest in a long line of female captives who had adorned the Bird Cage, the
special hold below decks where Captain McMahon stowed his most-prized cargo -
the unfortunate young women who were destined for the flesh dens of his Chinese
ports-of-call. He strolled around Erika slowly, casting an admiring eye at the
scantily-clad body of the stunning young woman who was to provide the
entertainment for his eager-eyed audience.
The waxing and waning light given off by the four ancient kerosene
lanterns which provided the only illumination in the Birdcage played over
Erika's creamy flesh lovingly. She stood facing a wooden T-cross, with her
wrists securely bound high above her head to an evil-looking hook near the top
of the upright. Her bare midriff and nicely-tanned legs provided a pleasing
contrast to the whiteness of her improvised halter and her makeshift loincloth.
The latter remained precariously knotted at one hip, revealing a delicious
expanse of thigh-flesh and just a hint of her shapely behind. Her ankles were
securely bound to floor-mounted manacles which allowed her pretty feet no more
than an inch or two of play.
For some minutes Erica had been trying to fathom the purpose of the
circular opening at the waist-high juncture of the cross, but now its meaning
quickly became all too clear. Grinning evilly, Jasper Slegg made his way across
a deck littered with sawdust and bone-dry bamboo shavings, the products no
doubt, of Deng-shan's penchant for carpentry. Arriving at an irregular mound of
wood and bamboo, he began sorting irritably through the pile of seeming rubble
for a moment or two, before exclaiming triumphantly, "Ah, here it is!" With a
satisfied grin he pulled free a pointed bamboo rod whose rifled diameter matched
precisely that of the opening in the cross.
Slegg held the stake up so that his audience could see the sharpness of its
tip as he returned to the cross. He jabbed the rod into Erika's side briefly,
and then pulled it back, giving Erika a malicious scowl. "Scene One, dearie!"
he muttered, before inserting the rod in the aperture in the crosspiece. He
began turning it, slowly screwing it into the opening in the wood. Erika
stared at the opening apprehensively as the tapering bamboo pale slowly emerged
and began inching its way toward her naked belly.
As Slegg continued to turn the fearful screw, Erika soon began to feel its
sharpened point pressing forcefully against her navel. Wincing in pain, the
scantily-clad blonde tried to pull away from the post, only to realize the
cleverness of her bondage - with her ankles lashed to the rings in the floor and
her wrists bound high on the cross, no real retreat was possible.
Jasper Slegg had been eagerly awaiting Erika's first grimace, and he
beckoned his audience forward so that they could enjoy Erika's expression of
chagrin as he continued to twist the bamboo screw through the snug-fitting
opening, driving Erika's tender belly one inch - two inches - three inches -
further from the upright.
It was not until Slegg heard Erika's first muffled gasp of pain that he
paused for a moment, letting the crewmen savor his prisoner's helplessness. "I
promised ye that I'd give you a good look at these beauties, didn't I lads?" he
muttered, as his reached around the cross, his hands casually brushing against
Erika's stiffening nipples while he undid the knot in the halter that Erika had
fashioned from the Captain's shirt. Slegg made short work of the knot, and
then, gloating lecherously, he pushed what was left of what had once been a
sleeveless undershirt back over Erika's rounded shoulders, unveiling her
ripe-nippled globes.
Erika blushed furiously as the onlookers pressed closer, jostling each
other roughly as they formed an irregular circle around the forbidding cross,
each man seeking a better view of the pink-tipped turrets of flesh which rose
and fell deliciously with her every straining breath. Erika's enforced shower
in the typhoon had removed the smudges of caked blood that Mao's flesh-tearing
tools had drawn from her breasts, but there were still faint vestiges of his
work with screwdriver and pliers, especially around the soft brown areoles from
which her tempting, semi-taut nubbins rose so shamelessly.
Catching Deng-shan's eye, Jasper Slegg signaled to him and the muscular
Chinese carpenter stepped forward. Each of the men reached for a tender nipple
and worked it between rough fingers, until the two lust-buds stood out
impudently from Erika's mouthwatering breasts. Only then did Deng dip a hand
into his leather tool-bag and extract a cylindrical spool of coarse twine. As
Erika watched in mounting dismay, the handyman unwound the ball and cut two
twenty-inch lengths of twine, and handed one to his partner in perfidy.
Each man then formed a circular noose at the midpoint of his twine-cord and
slipped it around the base of one of Erika's distended nipples. After checking
to see that both of the tiny circlets were in place, Slegg gave Deng an almost
imperceptible nod and each man gave the ends of his own length of twine a swift
jerk at precisely the same moment.
"Aaiaaaa!" Erika groaned as the loops snapped shut, seizing her tender
nipples in their merciless grip. She twisted her upper body from side to side
violently, hoping against hope that she could somehow throw off the
nipple-gnawing cords, but her agitated movements only served to entertain her
admirers, who eagerly followed every eye-pleasing wobble of her oscillating
breasts.
The searing, stinging pain had caused Erika's knees to buckle slightly,
and, as soon as her gyrations slowed her two captors took steps to correct her
indolent posture. They began by taking the leads of twine and carefully
looping their ends around shoulder-high hooks that had been pounded deep into
the sides of the wooden upright. Within a few moments they had tied them off so
that the tips of Erika's thrusting breasts were pulled painfully upward toward
the hooks.
It took only another quarter-turn of the Belly Screw for Erika to realize
how the nipple-cords had added to the severity of her predicament. The bamboo
screw that pressed against her navel drove her belly back, away from the bamboo
post, thus forcing her upper body slightly downward and inward, toward the
centerpoint of the post through which the sharpened stake protruded. But the
shoulder-high nipple-hooks forced her breasts to strain upward to relieve the
dreadful traction. The combination of the two devices spelled agony, and each
remorseless turn of the Belly Screw compounded her suffering.
Jasper Slegg watched with grim satisfaction as a fine dew of perspiration
began to spread over his beautiful prisoner's flushed flesh and her soft moans
of pain grew louder. Knowing that time, relentless, inexorable time, was his
ally, he turned the screw only once or twice a minute, and only a fraction of a
turn at a time, drawing out Erika's misery endlessly, driving the pointed stake
ever deeper into Erika's enticing belly-notch, continually ratcheting up the
pressure on her distended nipples.
"Beginning to 'ave second thoughts about kickin' me, are ye, Princess,"
Slegg taunted her, as he gave the belly-screw another flesh-gouging turn.
"Aauuuughhh!!" Erika could no longer conceal her suffering as the sadistic
Englishman continued to torque the evil screw, exacerbating the strain on her
pink-tipped love-gourds. She had reached the point where she was certain that
the next turn of the screw would tear the tips of her breasts from her tortured
body when Slegg at last relented. He slowly turned toward an audience held in
thrall by the sight of Erika's nearly nude body straining against the device
which had enslaved her, and muttered, "So did ye like the Belly Screw, boys?"
A dozen deep-voiced grunts of approbation sent shivers of dismay and
despair coursing through Erika's nearly nude body.
"Well then, 'oo's man enough to watch Act II of our little lady's
thee-atrical dayboo? Step back behind the curtain, lads, and get yer money out,
while Deng and I arrange the next set. Shouldn't take more than two shakes of a
lamb's tail..."
********
The attendees filed out obediently, boisterously exchanging excited
impressions of Erika's spectacular body and speculating as to the nature of her
next ordeal. They did not have long to wait, for a few minutes later Deng
joined them, collected the next round of admissions, and then ushered them back
into the Bird Cage.
There they found Erika Weiss's scantily clad body spread-eagled face down,
some four feet off the ground, to the four posts of a sturdy bamboo frame. It
was as if she had been bound to the bedposts of a high bed, and then the
mattresses and springs had been hauled away, leaving only the bedposts,
supported by the box-like rectangular frame. The more observant of the voyeurs
noticed that a pile of metal bars was stacked neatly against a nearby wall.
Erika's body, cruelly stretched by the ropes that lashed her limbs to the
uprights of the frame, was as perfectly parallel to the ground as the curves and
hollows of a woman's body would permit. The shirt still hung from her neck, but
Jasper Slegg had knotted its tattered panels behind her back, allowing her
luscious breasts to hang down, naked and pendulous. He had removed the lengths
of twine from Erika's red-ringed nipples, draping them around her neck as grim
reminders, but the renewed flow of blood to her throbbing nubbins was nearly as
painful as the cords themselves had been. The panel of her improvised loin
cloth had fallen away from her body, leaving her shapely left leg bare all the
way to the hip-high knot in the garment.
Jasper Slegg tore his eyes away from the creamy expanse of Erika's
outstretched body long enough to turn toward his guests. "Well, lads, we're
going to stretch our pretty Princess in another direction, now." His eyes
ranged around the room from man to man, his lips moving soundlessly.
Erika squirmed silently in her bonds, her discomfort hardly lessened by
Slegg's enigmatic comment. But her curiosity, along with that of the lusty-eyed
crewmen of the Yang-tze Dragon, was quickly satisfied.
"D' ye see that stack of iron bars there against the wall?" Slegg barked.
"Cookie, you go first. Get one and bring it over 'ere." Erika's flesh crawled
as she felt Slegg's hand sliding caressingly over her thigh, even as her eyes
were drawn to the stack of bars to which Slegg had referred.
Erika watched helplessly as Tranh, the Vietnamese ship's cook, after
listening to Deng-shan's translate Slegg's words into the pidgin Chinese known
to all the sailors of the China Sea, crossed the room, and retrieved the bar on
the top of the stack. The bars were all of a size, each of them about as long
and as wide as a tall man's foot, and as thick as her index finger. The cook
hefted the bar's not inconsiderable weight in his hands as he returned to the
frame on which Erika's body was so cruelly stretched.
"That's it, Cookie. Now lay it down right 'ere, on the small of 'er
back."
A moment later Erika felt the coolness and rigidity and downward pressure
of the iron bar that was just long enough to stretch across the bare expanse of
her back. The bar was solid, but not inordinately heavy, and she judged that it
posed no immediate cause for concern.
But when the second man and third man laid their bars alongside Tranh's,
she realized the gravity of her situation. Her wrists and ankles were bound to
fixed points on the upright and would not slip down. The entire weight of the
iron bars would be borne by the small of her back, whose muscles were already
beginning to tense. And how many more bars were yet to come?
Slegg, who had been staring at her intently, seemed to have read her mind.
"There's fifteen o' the boys 'ere just now, Princess," he chortled. "You're a
lucky woman, you are. A bloke couldn't ask for a better number for buildin' a
bleedin pyramid."
Erika groaned, and her long-legged body shuddered a bit as another pair of
grinning sailors placed a fourth bar and then a fifth alongside the bars that
stretched across her back.
"That's it, gents," Slegg interpolated. "That makes for a nice base. Now
for the second tier, each bar straddling the two beneath it. Four bars on this
row, lads."
While the sixth, seventh, eighth and ninth bars were being added, at
intervals of a minute or so, Jasper Slegg had repositioned himself in front of
Erika. "Not to worry, eh, dearie? Iron bars do not a prison make." Chuckling
at his joke, Slegg eyed the raw, reddened tips of Erika's breasts. He stepped
closer, pressing his mid-section against the top of Erika's head, compelling her
to look down at his thick, cloth-covered erection. Then he leaned forward
slightly and took her pendulous breasts in his two hands, testing their weight
like a cautious goldsmith. Satisfied with their measure, he rolled her
half-stiffened nipples between his fingertips until they were pinchably erect,
while two of the Malayan sailors added the final bars to the second tier.
Erika's back was bowed considerably now, supporting nine bars that pressed
heavily against her aching spine. But she was utterly helpless to prevent the
men from beginning the third tier of her pyramid of pain.
His jaw clenched intently, Slegg playfully hefted Erika's breasts again as
the next three sailors took up their bars. But there was nothing playful about
the way he dug his thumbnails into the pebbly texture of Erika's pinkish-brown
areolae, and slowly increased the pressure. Meanwhile Deng-shan had located a
slender bamboo rod in the pile of debris and draped it carelessly across the
back of Erika's bare legs. He slowly sawed the cane back and forth across her
quivering thighs while Slegg admonished her that if she moved enough to dislodge
any of the blocks in the pyramid, he would have his cronies begin again and
build another pyramid - but the new one would be six tiers high! Then Slegg
nodded to Deng and the tattooed Chinese slipped the tip of his cane under
Erika's loincloth and flipped it up over her hips, giving the crewmen a good
look at her taut-stretched bottomcheeks.
As he saw the men's eyes taking in the lurid marks his rope-whip had left
on Erika's buttocks earlier, Slegg released Erika's left breast long enough to
finger the bandage over his eye. He mumbled to no one in particular, " 'ere's
one little tart that won't be raisin' a shovel to Jasper Slegg again, I promise
ye that!" As a crewman stepped forward and laid the first bar of the third
tier atop the wall of iron, Slegg nodded to Deng. Returning the nod with a
covert wink, the ear-ringed Chinese whipped his arm downward, slicing the
slender rod into Erika's tender bottom-globes.
THWICCKK!!! "Unnghhhhh!"
Even though the cane was very thin, Deng had angled the stroke cleverly, so
that its path angled across some of the marks Slegg had left earlier, leaving a
trail of livid intersections in its wake. It took every ounce of Erika's
fortitude not to twist and turn her body enough to cause the pyramid to falter.
"A sweet arse, ain't it,boys?" Slegg mumbled as he signaled the eleventh
man to deposit his burden.
THWICKK !!! "Nggghh!!" Once again the sound of hard-edged bamboo
striking soft butt-cheeks echoed through the Bird Cage. Erika bit into her lip
to keep from crying out again. Aside from Slegg's taunts and her own cries of
anguish the Bird Cage was deathly still. There was only the eerie creaking of
the bamboo frame which bore the weight of her taut-stretched body to interrupt
the awful concentration of her audience.
"Only one more on this tier, dearie," Slegg muttered, as he cupped Erika's
down-hanging breasts in his rough, wind-weathered hands yet again. "That's it,
mate - set it on nice and easy now."
But no sooner had Erika felt the pressure of the eleventh bar than she
heard the fearful whizzing again, followed almost instantaneously by another
resounding THWICKKK!!!
"Aaaaighhh!!" The third stroke of the cane seemed to follow the path
of the first one, leaving a fresh trail of agony in its wake. "No more ...
please ... no more..."
Erika's sweat-moistened back was bent like an overstrung bow, and her long
blonde hair tossed from side to side as if somehow that futile motion would numb
the soreness in her breasts or cool the scalding sting of Deng's cane-strokes.
Gritting her teeth, she somehow managed to endure her suffering without
upsetting her burden.
"Ah, that makes twelve, now, Princess," Slegg said as he released her
pain-ravaged breasts and stepped away. "Just three more luv. Two on the next
tier, boys! Be sure to 'old still, dearie. Ye wouldn't want us to 'ave to start
over again, now, would ye?"
Choking back a sob, Erika shook her head, 'No', just as a tattooed seaman
from Hong Kong started the fourth tier. As she awaited the next fearful stroke
from Deng-shan, she tried to focus on holding her nearly-nude body as still as
possible. But her concentration was momentarily shattered when Deng whipped the
strip of bamboo downward into her springy nether-globes for the fourth time,
its vicious THWIICCKK!!! at impact drawing fresh groans of misery from her
parched throat.
"Water ..." Erika moaned miserably. "Please ... water ...." It was
strange - an hour or two ago she had been enveloped in the torrential downpour
of the typhoon, but now her lips and throat were as dry as the sawdust on the
floor of the Bird Cage.
"Thirsty are ye? Would ye like something nice and juicy to suck on,
dearie?" Slegg taunted her as he grabbed at his swollen crotch.
"N-n-no," Erika groaned, just as the fifth stroke of the bamboo fell.
Timed to coincide with the laying of the fourteenth brick in the pyramid, it was
a wicked, slashing blow to the base of her buttocks that drew such a violent
convulsion of pain from her that Slegg was sure that his edifice would topple.
But somehow Erika righted herself just in time and brought her sweat-moistened,
spread-eagled body back under control.
As he watched the delicious oscillation of Erika's bobbling breasts, Slegg
grudgingly tipped his hat to his prisoner's stamina. He'd only used this
technique twice before, once on a rebellious little wildcat from the isle of
Hainan, and once on a feisty Filipina who'd spit on him when he forced her into
her cage. But he had only used a four-tier, ten-bar pyramid on their slender
frames. Even so, they had begged him for mercy by the time they had taken the
two cane-strokes that accompanied the laying of the third tier. And, he grinned
to himself, those slim beauties hadn't had to endure the kind of mauling that
he'd given to Erika's opulent breasts.
"One more. " 'oo's left then?" Slegg asked. "Ah, it's you, Froggie. Go
ahead, then. Put the crown on the pyramid, mate."
Froggie, a middle-aged Chinese who walked with a slight stoop, shuffled
across the room and picked up the fifteenth and final bar. Then he limped over
to Erika and played with her long blonde hair for a moment before adding the
final story to Jasper Slegg's pagoda of punishment.
Meanwhile Deng had slid around behind her and timed his final stroke so
that he flicked the whippy bamboo switch directly into the crevice between
Erika's spread-eagled buttocks, just as Froggy released his metal brick.
"Aaaiighhhh!!" Erika cried out again, taking little comfort from the fact
that there would probably be no more cane-strokes. But even as the pain in her
bottom receded, the strains on the rest of her body mounted. Throughout the
ghastly ordeal in the Bird Cage, one of the worst parts was not knowing the
duration of each torment. The tendons and ligaments in her arms and legs were
stretched tight as a drum, and her back was cruelly bent under the weight of
Slegg's pyramid from hell. And for how long?
The seconds passed interminably as Jasper Slegg and his rapt audience
watched Erika's long, lovely body straining under its awful burden, the only
sounds in the room being her low moans and the rubbing of rope against bamboo
whenever her weight shifted, however slightly. Over the years Slegg had
developed a sixth sense for determining when he had pushed a woman to the verge
of her breaking point. Erika, he had concluded in the stoking room hour
earlier, had a much higher tolerance for pain than most women. It was almost,
he mused, as if she had been trained to endure harsh treatment.
Captain McMahon had long since imposed a strict rule about marking or
otherwise damaging the bodies of the female cargo he transported on the Yang-tze
Dragon (save for the rare punishments administered to young women who proved
completely incorrigible and non-compliant). And indeed, milder methods of
bondage and restraint had worked wonders on most of their young prisoners, no
matter how hostile and combative they had been when first thrown into
confinement in the Bird Cage. But in the case of Erika, Slegg reasoned, a few
more cane-strokes would hardly be noticed on a bottom so thoroughly scourged by
the rope-whip. Besides, for the price he was charging the crewmen they deserved
a little bonus...
Each second seemed to pass with agonizing slowness for Erika, and not
only because of the constancy of her pain. The thought that more than a dozen
of the sea slugs of the Yangtze Dragon were ogling her naked breasts and her
bare buttocks only compounded her misery. She heard every catcall, every lewd
remark as the men crowded closer and closer.
"You're going to need a nice long rubdown, when we're done with ya,
baby!" Froggie smirked, his massive erection clearly visible through the thin
fabric of his trousers. "And I'm just the man to give it to you. Nice and
slow. And I'd start with that sweet ass of yours."
"Yeah, maybe," said another man who had worked his way around the
semi-circle of men until he stood at the head-end of the framework. He licked
his lips as he eyeballed the indentations the twine had left around the bases of
Erika's swollen nipples. "But if it was me I'd start with those juicy tits."
"Shit, Lucky, we'll be pullin' up to the dock at the island tomorrow.
Knowing you, you'd still be workin' on 'em when we got there!" Froggie elbowed
his pal in the ribs good-naturedly while he, too, eyed the fullness of Erika's
breasts.
The man called Lucky called out, "How about it, Deng? Are we gonna get
a crack at those tits? For the kind of money we're paying, we oughta be able to
give those babies a squeeze or two!"
A chorus of masculine assents forced Deng-shan to turn to his partner
and translate. Slegg rubbed his chin thoughtfully, pretending to think the
matter over, but he had long since anticipated their request and planned
accordingly.
"Well, I suppose I could ... juggle things around a bit," Slegg acquiesced
grudgingly, pumping his cupped hands in a way that turned Erika's stomach.
"Provided you lot stick around for the 'ole show. 'ow about it, boys? Anyone
else interested in givin' our princess's tits a little special attention?"
When Deng repeated the juggling motion even more salaciously as he
translated the Englishman's words, Slegg's question was greeted by an excited
acclamation of ayes. Grinning knowingly, Slegg turned to Deng-shan, with a
merry glint in his eye. "All right, gents. I think something can be arranged."
********
A minute or two later Slegg freed Erika from the dreadful pyramid and
its back-crushing bondage. But it took he and Deng only a minute or two to
prepare her for her third ordeal, which was to prove less taxing to her body,
but no less taxing to her spirit.
After giving the beleaguered beauty only a few moments to catch her
breath, the two men forced Erika's back against the reverse side of the same
rough-hewn wooden cross to which she had been bound earlier. While Slegg
twisted her arms painfully behind her, Deng-shan looped a rope around her waist
twice, before binding her tightly to the upright. Then he took her left foot
and pulled it upward behind her so that her calf pressed tightly against her
thigh, before lashing an ankle-rope around the waist-cincher. He repeated the
process on her other leg, pulling the ankle ropes so tight that the muscles in
Erika's sweat-moistened thighs were drawn bowstring taut.
When Deng was finished with her legs the two men bound Erika's slender
wrists to an iron hook directly above her golden hair. Stepping back, Slegg
nodded to himself, pleased with his conception. The points of Erika's upraised
elbows constituted two vertices of the alluring diamond of female subjugation
formed by her imprisoned arms. In that position her aching shoulders, coupled
with the waist cinch, once again supported the entire weight of her body.
Slegg rearranged the tatters of Erika's threadbare shirt so that it
wrapped around her chest just above her jutting breasts, and then knotted it
tightly behind her. The pale rope of white fabric somehow seemed to emphasize
the nakedness of Erika's shapely pleasure-gourds as they rose and fell with her
every breath. With her hands bound above her head, Erika's mouthwatering mounds
were lifted into superb prominence, and one by one evil-minded sailors with
mast-hard erections came forward and paid obscene homage to her naked flesh.
Having conceived the idea for this man-pleasing intermezzo, Lucky was
awarded the honor of going first, and as his crony had intimated, he could not
get enough of Erika's love-globes.
He began by cupping them lightly, enjoying the intoxicating feel of the
soft skin of her under-breasts against his index fingers. Then, as he lifted
her plump hillocks slightly with his fingers, he used his thumbs to circumscribe
her pinky-brown aureoles. He scraped his nails across the newly-dormant tips
of her breasts until the sensitive nubbins began to respond to his masculine
touch. When Erika's lust-nuggets were half-erect, Lucky bent down and licked at
some of the tiny beads of breast-sweat that had blossomed during her first two
trials. He tongued her coral-tipped treasures greedily for a moment and then
buried his homely face between them, mouthing noisily at one for a time, before
turning his head slightly to taste and nuzzle its equally sublime twin.
His face flushed with desire, Lucky wallowed in the salty taste and musky
scent of Erika's luscious woman-globes. He raised his bleary eyes for a moment
to take in the expression of shame and humiliation on Erika's face, and then
lowered his head again, taking the tip of her left nipple into his mouth and
nipping and tugging at it with his lips and teeth until it was long and hard and
wet enough to please the most debauched hedonist.
When Slegg called, "Time!" Lucky backed away reluctantly and Tiger, one of
the Malayans, came forward. Like Lucky, he too attacked first with eager hands,
using his thumbs to press into the creamy undercurves of Erika's breasts while
his fingers arced upward in a bid to encircle her swollen globes. Then as his
fingers tightened, Tiger twisted her sensitive breasts first inward and then
outward, before mashing her close-set melons together, providing twin targets
for his ravenous mouth.
Each of the men got two minutes by Jasper Slegg's watch to knead and nuzzle
Erika's tempting turrets to his heart's content and Erika was subjected to all
manner of breast-fondling tactics. Some of the men were squeezers, or worse,
crushers, who liked nothing better than tightening their fingers around Erika's
sensitive tit-flesh. Froggie, the middle-aged man who had limped forward to put
the peak on the pyramid, seemed intent on proving that, while his legs were
weak, there was nothing wrong with his rough-weathered hands. Unlike the men who
had preceded him, he took up a position behind the post, and then reached around
it and took Erika's breasts in his hands while he surreptitiously ground his
groin into the wooden upright. He gave his cronies a toothy grin as his fingers
tightened on Erika's swollen globes until tears began to form in the corners of
her azure blue eyes.
A couple of the men were twisters, who delighted in adding the cruel
pressure of torque to their insistent grasp. Still others seemed
nipple-obsessed and used their entire time pinching, flicking, twisting,
twirling, tugging and gnawing the out-thrusting tips of her beleaguered breasts.
Though none of the men was unusually brutal, the cumulative effect of the
sailors' plundering hands had two unfortunate effects. By the time half a dozen
men had taken finished manhandling her lust-melons, Erika's breasts were sore
from the nearly continuous abuse. Even worse, each man seemed to want to out-do
the man who had preceded him, and the attraction of ordinary pleasures seemed
to pale for the men at the tail end of the line who had seen their shipmates
fondle Erika's throbbing globes in almost every way imaginable.
As her humiliation and suffering mounted, Erika closed her eyes and tried
to imagine that it was Daniel Kauffman's hands fondling her breasts. That his
gentle, caressing, healing hands had been seduced to masculine roughness by an
onrush of virile passion. But as each sailor gave way to another even more
intent on displaying his dominance, her mental image of an affectionate but
masterful lover became ever more difficult to sustain.
The ninth man, a long-armed Malayan his crewmates addressed as "Orang" did
his best to emulate Froggy's troglodytic tit-crushing technique, squeezing her
rounded pain-melons until a tiny pearl of blood began to ooze from one of the
gashes Mao had carved with the screwdriver. As she struggled to endure the
pain, Erika saw Slegg lean over and whisper something into the ear of Tranh, the
Vietnamese cook, who stood twelfth in line. The cook listened closely, grinned
and nodded and stepped out of the line, disappearing through in the gap in the
curtain. He reappeared several minutes later, just before his own turn was to
come due, with a lumpy-looking burlap sack hanging over his shoulder.
When the man in front of him stepped away, after giving Erika's
thick-swollen nipples a parting pinch, Tranh removed an ampule from the shoulder
bag, removed the stopper, and began dribbling oil down onto the upper-slopes of
Erika's blotchy breasts.
"Sesame," he chuckled with a wink to Deng-shan as he poured a little more
oil into his cupped palm. He set the half-full vial down and poured half of the
oil from his cupped palm into his other hand and then rubbed his hands together.
Then he slid his oil-slickened hands down Erika's luscious breasts, working the
aromatic oil into her tender breast-melons.
"That's it, Tranhie! Baste 'em up nice and juicy for us," a thick-bodied
Mongol with three days growth of beard, who brought up the end of the line,
called out approvingly.
Tranh needed little encouragement. He slid his hands under Erika's
pleasure-globes, lifting and oiling their silky-soft undersides in one motion.
"Just like making home-made Chinese noodle, eh? " he beamed to his comrades as
he kneaded Erika's love-mounds as if they were tasty clumps of dough, sometimes
working one slippery breast with both of his wrinkled hands, and sometimes
massaging both love-mounds at once.
When Tranh's time was done, Erika found that the two jabbering Malayans in
coolie shirts in line behind him had decided to join forces. As each of them
fondled a slippery breast with one hand, the man on her right reached under her
loincloth to finger her pussy. Meanwhile his partner, after running his
fingers back and forth across Erika's well-oiled breasts a few times, wedged his
hand into the tight space between Erika's behind and the T-cross. He fondled
Erika's squirming buttocks for a moment or two, before easing his fingers
between her legs, and then with a swift upward movement, he thrust an oil-slick
middle finger into her unsuspecting anus.
Erika gasped, more in surprise than in pain, her faint image of Daniel
Kauffmann swept away in a tide of depravity, just as two mouths descended onto
her defenseless breasts. As the lips of the Malayans roamed freely over the
curves of her pleasure-mounds, they continued to finger her in tandem, their
intrusive digits synchronized like the pistons of a smooth-running engine, each
man feeling the pressure of the other's hand through the thin membrane which
separated them. Erika's limbs strained at her bonds, but there was no escaping
the obscene assault.
When their time had elapsed, the fifteenth and last man, a squat,
beetle-browed Mongolian coal-shoveler who had been hired for his prodigious
strength, stepped forward. Jasper Slegg had noticed that the grimy collier from
the wilds to the north had been waiting impatiently, enviously, his jaw
twitching spasmodically as he watched one man after another manhandling Erika's
pink-nippled treasures.
But there was something more, Slegg thought, in the Mongol's bottomless
black eyes, than lust. The men called him Khasar, Slegg remembered, and someone
had told once told him that the name meant 'wild dog' among the nomadic peoples
of the Gobi. And indeed Khasar wore the name well, looking for all the world as
if he were the sole possessor of the warlike Mongol blood that had enslaved much
of Asia for hundreds of years. Slegg could see that this man would have to be
watched to make sure that things didn't get completely out of hand.
The powerfully-built Mongol stopped the scrawny Malayans who had preceded
him, just as they were about to step out of his way.
"Wait a minute!" he snarled, grabbing them by the shoulders with hands
darkened by years of coal-shovelling, as he eyed Erika with a venomous leer.
"Stick your fingers in her mouth. Let's see which finger the slut likes best!"
Notwithstanding Khasar's bullying manner, the Malayans seemed quite
agreeable to the idea of having their time with Erika extended. They obliged the
burly Mongol by standing on either side of Erika and pressing their musky-moist
fingertips to her lips.
Despite being thankful that she taken the time to clean herself with the
end of her wet shirt when she had been locked in the closet, Erika balked at
making such a degrading choice and turned her face away from their insistent
fingers. "Du Dreckschwein! You filthy pig!" she hissed at the stubble-bearded
Mongol.
SMACKK! The sadistic son of the desert responded by lashing out and
slapping Erika's left breast so hard that she cried out in pain.
"Who you callin' a pig?" the muscular Mongol roared. His face was creased
in a sullen rage as he whipped the back of his sooty, hard-knuckled hand across
Erika's other oil-slick breast.
SMACCKK !!
"Aaieeaahh! Grosser Gott!" Despite the helplessness of her situation,
Erika's pain and rage and fury got the better of her. "Bastard!" she hissed in
Chinese at the coal-smudged Mongol. "Dirty, filthy bastard!!"
Jasper Slegg reached out to stop him, anxious to keep Erika's body as
unmarked as possible, lest he incur Captain's McMahon's displeasure. But the
burly Mongol elbowed him out of his way.
Khasar grinned through yellowed teeth as he delivered a vicious slapping
uppercut to the underside of Erika's left breast.
SMACKKKK!!!
"AAAUGHHH!!
"Do as I said, wench!"
The beefy Mongolian had balled his big hand into a fist and was just about
to strike again when Slegg and Deng-shan both stepped between him and the
moaning, bare-breasted beauty. " 'ere now, mate. The night's till young. Ye
don't want to mash up yer cake before ye've eaten it now, do ye?"
Grunting disgustedly, the fuming coal-shoveller relented, and did not
strike Erika again, but for the rest of his allotted time he gouged the tips of
his coal-blackened fingers into Erika's slap-reddened breasts and tugged at them
as if he were harvesting firm, thick-stemmed grapefruits from a resisting tree.
Slegg watched this barbaric abuse closely but did not interfere again,
because, having an abundance of experience in such matters, he judged that the
finger-marks, unlike the more-lasting marks left by slaps and punches, would
fade quickly. He had no moral qualms whatever about allowing the brutish Mongol
to punish the long-legged blonde who'd slugged him with the shovel and stomped
his ribs. But the self-interest inherent in his pay-as-you-go scheme required
that Erika's nearly inexhaustible allure, and particularly the appeal of her
luscious, bold-thrusting breasts, be preserved until he had coaxed every
possible coin from his eager customers.
