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Chapter 158 Beauty Treatment
Neither the staccato cries of passing seagulls nor the intermittent rumblings of the ship's laboring engines could drown out the obscene chatter and the ribald catcalls that floated across the deck of the Yang-tze Dragon.
Arranged haphazardly around the grim scaffold, the crewmen of that unholy freighter continued to gawk at their most prized cargo -- Erika Weiss. The nude, golden-haired beauty, her well-toned arms stretched taut in an agonizing X, hung helplessly from a pair of guy-ropes that had been wound around the lofty crossbeam of the gibbet, and which were held fast by a pair of Chinese seamen. Behind her, a semi-circle of brutish sailors exchanged crude epithets even as they acknowledged the fine job Tranh had done in washing the sweat and the blood from Erika's tanned, tapering back and the ripe half-moons of her buttocks. Tranh's trusty liniment, the celadon-tinged Mekong Lightning, had done much to reduce the swelling of the puffy ridges left by the lash; only the faint vestiges of criss-crossed lacerations marred the perfection of Erika's glistening, sun-kissed flesh.
Facing her, Jasper Slegg's weathered hands still tingled with virile pleasure from the withering barrage of forehands and backhands he had delivered to Erika's newly rubescent breasts. He met Erika's defiant and contemptuous blue-eyed glare with a domineering smile as Tranh, who had completed his scouring of Erika's nether aspect, prepared to apply the coarse-bristled scrub brush to the front of her nude body. As he did so, many of the crewmen began to circle around, so that they could face their blonde captive for this next stage of the proceedings, the better to enjoy her debasement and dismay.
Holding the brush firmly by its wooden handle, Tranh made quick work of Erika's ankles and shins, but he slowed his pace considerably as he worked his way up her long, shapely legs. A toothy grin spread across the face of the wiry Vietnamese as he daubed her limbs gently at first, applying a soapy patina of lather up and down the length of her thighs, before setting to work in earnest and scraping the tough bristles roughly across Erika's sensitive thigh-flesh.
Erika winced as she felt the painful friction of the brush across her upper thighs and almost involuntarily lifted a knee upward to drive her tormentor away. Her knee no more than grazed Tranh's thigh, but her mutinous movement gave Jasper Slegg an excuse to spring into action once again.
"You never learn, do you, princess?" he snarled, clenching and unclenched his fists malevolently as he stepped forward.
As he moved closer Erika could see that Slegg's dead, lizard-like eyes were once again focused on her naked breasts. When she saw his left arm start forward, she twisted her body away from him, torquing her body to her left, only to realize too late that Slegg's movement had only been a feint and that she had actually stepped into a vicious right that seemed to come out of nowhere.
SMACKK!!!
Slegg's open palm slammed violently into Erika luscious left breast, crushing the perky nipple that her futile attempt at evasion had thrust into harm's way.
"AAAUHHGGHH!""
The beleaguered blonde would surely have crumpled to her knees in pain had not her wrist-ropes held her up. As it was she hung awkwardly in her bonds, one knee nearly reaching the deck of the scaffold, her long, golden hair dancing lightly on her bare shoulders, her lovely face contorted in pain.
Slegg's malicious leer would have shamed the Cheshire Cat. The villainous first mate had worked over the tits of scores of women in his time, from the East End to the East China Sea, but he could not remember a pair to match those of Erika Weiss. Girlishly soft, breathtaking beautiful in size and shape, intoxicatingly firm, capped with tight pinkish-brown nipples nestled in roseate circlets of an ever-so-slightly lighter hue.
"Blimey," Slegg exclaimed under his breath. His jaw worked incessantly as he eyed the turgid tips of Erika's breasts; it was almost as if her swollen nipples made his teeth itch. His cock was as hard and heavy as anchor as he backhanded Erika's right breast with another vicious slap that set her blushing hillocks to quivering yet again. Best of all, Slegg mused, as he stepped back to let Tranh continue his labors, Erika's opulent pleasure-mounds could take plenty of punishment. Despite the many rigors to which they had been subjected during the last several hours, Erika's ripe-nippled tit-globes jutted out no less boldly now than they had when he had stripped her naked at the first light of dawn.
Meanwhile, deck-brush in hand, Tranh dunked the bristles in the soapy water and splashed Erika's bare legs. He scrubbed the fronts of Erika's thighs for another minute or two, using a mixture of vertical and circular strokes, and then, anxious to attend to more delicate flesh, he eased the brush northward. When the crude scrub brush found the delicate pink petals of Erika's feminine treasure, she writhed in pitiable misery and let out a mournful groan that brought fresh grins to the faces of Jasper Slegg and his crew-mates.
The moment Erika felt the coarse bristles between her parted thighs, she had tried to bring her pretty legs together, but Slegg and the other men of the Yang-tze Dragon would have none of it.
"Spread 'er bloody legs, Tranh! Make 'er show us some pink!"
Flipping the brush over in his hand, Tranh slapped its wooden back down hard against Erika's inner thigh, but still she refused to part to her legs. He hit her again, on the same place high on her thigh, further reddening the pink mark he had left on her pale flesh, but Erika remained resolute. It was only after the ship's cook had smacked the wooden stock of the brush against the same tender spot four times that the pain finally forced Erika to widen her stance, provoking another round of obscene exclamations from the sex-starved sailors.
His teeth set in a toothy grin, Tranh thrust the brush between Erika's legs, working it up and down her exquisite slit, sliding it between the lips of her vulva so that it scraped against her sensitive labial flesh.
To Erika the wet bristles might as well have been nails, so roughly did they ravage the delicate folds of feminine flesh and the hyper-sensitive clitoris that stood sentinel at the northern portal of her dewy treasure. Gritting her teeth she threw her blonde mane backward, preferring to stare at the pitiless sky than at the leering faces of the crewmen of the Yang-tze Dragon.
When Erika's delectable genitalia had been all but scraped raw, the grinning Vietnamese slid the brush up to attack her bare belly, working the brush vigorously across the soft skin just above her hairline, probing the enticing recess of her navel, and polishing the bare flesh that so subtly masked the sensual protrusions of her ribcage.
But who could linger long, even on such a lovely plain of female flesh, when nearby ripe, thrusting mounds, redolent with nature's bounty, beckoned And it was to Erika's superb breasts that Tranh soon turned his diligence.
He began by splashing the slap-reddened mounds liberally with the soapy water and dabbing gently at the blotchy marks that Slegg's powerful hands had left on her breasts.
And then he got serious.
While his left hand fondled Erika's right breast, Tranh slid the coarse-fibered brush under Erika's soft, sensitive left breast and lifted it slightly, letting Erika feel the roughness of the bristles. Then he began a gentle horizontal motion, scraping lightly at the baby-soft underside of her breast with compact side-to-side strokes. At first his touch was feathery and Erika expelled a long breath of air, believing that Tranh had elected to treat her tender love-mounds with the sensitivity her slap-stung treasures deserved. But there was a method to the wily Vietnamese's strategy and his slow, sensual horizontal strokes gradually began to inch their way up the curvature of Erika's breast.
Soon Erika could feel the upper edge of the brush scraping across the lower edge of her sensitive aureole. Her ragged breaths came haltingly, her chest tight with a terror inspired by the venom in the voices of the onlookers.
"Attaboy, Tranhie! Scrape 'em raw!"
"Aye! And don't forget those big nipples, cookie!
Casting his comrades a wicked grin, the Vietnamese acceded to their wishes and turned his attention to Erika's proud, pinkish-brown nipples. He tilted his wrist slightly so that only a corner of the brush was in contact with Erika's aureole, and then circumscribed her half-taut nipple again and again, gradually increasing the pressure until the defiant bud blossomed into magnificent erection.
His eyes gleaming with the debauched depravity that only the sexual exploitation of a beautiful young woman can inspire, Tranh turned his attentions to Erika's other breast, and repeated his subtle tactics with the scrub brush, using soft, slow horizontal caresses followed by teasing, circular strokes around her nipple, until that tit-nugget was as swollen as its delectable twin.
"By the gods, Khasar, how'd you like to chew on those for an hour or two!"
"For a day or two, you mean!" the big Mongol grunted sadistically. "C'mon, Tranhie – rough 'em up!"
The sallow-skinned Vietnamese wasted no time. He dunked the scrub brush in his pail and splashed Erika's ripe-nippled breasts liberally with the soapy water once again. And then he set to work anew on the beautiful blonde's moist-glistening melons. Gripping the brush much tighter than before, Tranh began to grind the coarse bristles into Erika's right breast with such vigor that the golden-haired captive twisted and turned in her bonds in a frantic attempt to escape the fiery friction of the brush. But once Tranh seized her roughly by her mane of blonde hair, there was no escaping the bristles that seemed destined to flay the flesh from her succulent love-globes.
"Attaboy, Tranhie! Look at the wench wriggle, lads!"
Encouraged by Slegg's goading, Tranh attacked the squirming beauty's breasts with new ferocity, raking the brush across her moist mounds from every conceivable angle. Nearly every stroke, found a taut nipple, punishing their proud-pointing perfection.
To Erika it seemed like an hour, but her breasts actually suffered the excoriating caress of the stiff-bristled brush for only a few minutes. For soon Tranh's wrist grew weary from his strenuous exertions and he stepped back and tossed the brush on the workbench. But by that time every nerve in Erika's lush breasts was raw with suffering. Once again she tore at her wrist-ropes, hoping that by some miracle she could free herself so that her soft hands could comfort her burning breasts. But Cheng Lao and Kai Pu were still manning the ropes as vigilantly as ever, and she found no such succor.
"Titties sore, Missy? No worry. I fix 'em up."
Erika was in such misery that she hardly heard Tranh's words. The fires raging through her breasts caused her upper torso to shimmy uncontrollably. She turned her quivering treasures in the direction of the sea breeze, hoping that the quartering wind would cool her burning flesh.
As she did so, Tranh re-opened his vial of Mekong Lightning. Holding the bottle in one hand he seized Erika's right breast with the other and upended the vial slightly, allowing an ounce or so of the fiery liniment to trickle down onto the upper slope of her bristle-ravaged breast. Erika shuddered violently; Tranh's potion felt like molten lead as it streamed down her bare breast.
Tranh doused her other breast in like fashion, and then seeing that there was still an ounce or two of Lightning left in the vial, shrugged his shoulders and slowly poured the remaining contents on the tops of Erika's love-mounds, his hand passing first above one breast and then the other, and then back again, until every last drop of the stinging liniment had spilled onto Erika's tender breasts.
When the vial was empty, Tranh casually tossed it overboard, and then slipped behind Erika, winking at his cronies to indicate that he was loath to block their view of the sport that was to come. Then he slid his slick fingertips over Erika's shapely hips and grasped her trim waist and pulled her hard against his body so that she could feel the hammer-hard erection in his leggings. He ground his hips against hers for a brief moment and then his twitching fingers began their tantalizing upward ascent.
Tranh eased his well-oiled hands slowly up Erika's tummy, marveling at the softness and warmth of her belly-flesh, but he hesitated for just a moment when his index fingers kissed the baby-soft undersides of Erika's throbbing breast-mounds. The ship's cook cackled softly under his breath as he slid his small, liniment-slick hands under Erika's voluptuous breasts. He cupped them gently at first, hefted her blushing lust-globes in his hands as if they were trophies that proved his manhood, and then his skillful fingers began the pleasurable task of spreading the stinging Mekong Lightning evenly over Erika's slap-reddened melons. He lifted them, he polished them, he squeezed them, he pointed her thick, glistening nipples at several of his randy comrades so that each could get the best possible view of Erika's gleaming tit-globes. His fingertips darted and danced over Erika's succulent melons as he kneaded the mysterious elixir into her flesh with sadistic glee, coating them with a slick patina of liquid fire. Soon, tears were streaming down Erika's cheeks and she turned her face to the heavens, cursing whatever god of lust had ordained her enslavement aboard the Yang-tze Dragon.
But Tranh was in no hurry, and the grinning Vietnamese continued to massage the fiery lotion deep into every pore of Erika's ripe-thrusting breast-globes, paying particular attention to her proud-pointing nipples. As he did so, he drank in the envious stares from his comrades with considerable satisfaction. Every day of the year he was a menial on board the Dragon, cooking and swabbing and answering to everyone. But not today. Not today. Since Erika had been put into his charge, he mused smugly as he continued to knead Erika's succulent breasts, he had been the envy of every man on deck.
After a time the furious heat of the Mekong Lightning dissipated into the sea air, and Erika's burning breasts began to feel the same cooling numbness that had soothed her whip-ravaged back and buttocks. She knew the numbness would be of short duration, but gave thanks to the heavens that the stinging soreness resulting from Slegg's punishing tit-slaps was at last abating.
Tranh had just given Erika's slippery nipples a final vigorous pinch when he heard the portentous creak of the door to the captain's cabin behind him. A moment later McMahon emerged, his gait even more unsteady than before. The red-bearded ship's captain squinted uncertainly at Erika, whose back was to him, and nodded approvingly when he saw that the sea of half-dried blood and sweat had been washed from her back and buttocks as he had ordered. He was pleased that the lash-marks that had crisscrossed her back and backside had grown somewhat fainter as well, thanks to the healing powers of time and the curative powers of Tranh's mysterious potion. Erika's nude body was once again a nearly new canvas, on which the depraved artists of the Yang-tze Dragon could paint fresh brushstrokes with the lash.
"Ah, so did ye ha'e a nice rest-up, Lassie?" the bombastic mariner roared in a voice deepened from years of bellowing orders during thunderous typhoons. "Did Tranhie tend to your hurts?"
"Aye, that 'e did," snarled Jasper Slegg. "The last twenty minutes was like a holiday at Brighton beach, wasn't it dearie?"
The cruel irony in Jasper Slegg's response was not lost on the crewmen who had witnessed the nude beauty's most recent sufferings. Khasar and Froggy elbowed each other with malicious delight.
Erika was just about to give voice to the barbaric treatment visited upon her during her supposed respite from punishment, but the ominous peal of the first of six bells silenced her. She glanced at the coiled single-tail, the short strap, and the thronged whip still hanging menacingly from their hooks and shuddered with dread. While she had already felt the sting of five of the eight instruments that had once hung from the grisly hooks, their total had come to only fifteen strokes. Their were six strokes yet to come, and then seven, and then eight. One and twenty altogether.
And her ordeal was about to begin in earnest once again…
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