Internal Investigation

INTERNAL INVESTIGATION        

Sonya pulled the razor up one last time and thought to herself, “the things I do for the Company”, although this certainly would not be included in her report to her so-called superior at the CIA.  She looked at herself in her Thai hotel room’s full length bathroom mirror and, as usual, was quite pleased with what she saw.  Her own cat green eyes stared back at her from within the lean, high-cheekboned face, framed by a halo of auburn hair which flowed and naturally waved down to her shoulder blades.  This matched her full pouting lips which she kept tinted a very slight, almost imperceptible orange, their natural rubiness mostly showing through.

Her gaze shifted to her torso, noting with satisfaction the overall body tan she had recently acquired on the beautiful nearby beaches whose waves crashed not 20 yards from her suite.  The golden hue emphasized the magnificent tone of her lean muscles which could be seen moving down her arms and shoulders.  Nipples, the color of her lips and the size of quarters with half-inch nubs, jutted upwards in a perky fashion, perfectly centered in both fleshy globes which were not overly large, just slightly more than a handful, but which stood out prominently like a shelf from her body, without the remotest sign of sagging to belie her 27 years.

Nor was ther the slightest roll over her taut flat stomach of which any international athlete would have been proud.  Her waist was a trim 23 inches over beautifully sculpted hips which displayed in their middle her fire-red bush with its wire curls standing out an inch but which trimmed to cover just slightly wider than her pouting lower lips.

Her legs, like her arms, were long, slender and gracefully muscled.  She turned sideways and stuck out her posterior, noticing once more the immaculately rounded curves of her cheeks, the object of many disappointed artists, photographers and would-be lovers.

As long as she could remember she had greatly admired the female form with its elegant curves, quite unlike the repulsive masculine sharp angles and bloated limbs.  Her face twisted in disgust at the mere thought of men as she shifted her focus back to the reflected image.

The only thing she would wish to change was her height.  She had always wanted to be three inches taller and had been quite disappointed at the age of 15 when she realized her growth had been arrested at an exact 5’10”.  Her eyes wandered back to her bush which she had just finished trimming.  Again she sighed at the things she did for the service and her boss who was, of course, another imbecilic man. 

She looked at what she was to wear, sighed again, and began.  Within two minutes it was done.  She again looked into the glass and hardly noticed the clothes.  Her white bottom piece was a triangle the size of a scout badge with a string running from each corner around her hips and straight up her crack to join at a point on her back just above her ass.  The top, also white, had two more triangular pieces barely large enought to cover her nipples.  Each of their points sprouted a string, two of which joined behind her neck.  Another strand joined the triangles between her breasts and continued to run on both sides till they tied high in her back.  This ‘elaborate’ costume was completed by a pair of white strapped, very narrow, sandals with 4 inch stiletto heels.  The heels’ effect was to turn her ass slightly upwards and to make visible her cunt lips to anyone behind her.

Still, this is what Hing Lee had requested for this afternoon.  Sonya’s mind drifted to Hing Lee and unconsciously her fingers pushed aside the lower triangle of material and stroked her already humid cleft.  She was conflicted: she hated Asians, especially those she called ‘chinks’ but Hing Lee was a total slut when it came to giving tongue.  The things Hing Lee had done to Sonya’s clit the night before were unspeakably delicious and as Sonya reflected upon this her cunt began to exude a creeping moisture which rendered sheer upon contact the small piece of white cloth through which one could now almost see every remaining red hair.

Hing Lee was actually a woman part Thai, part Chinese, but Sonya held little regard for these distinctions.  In her mind there were Whites, Chinks and Niggers in that order, end of story.  “Oh, and at the very bottom of that scale were men......ALL fo them”, she thought as a probing finger pressed against her intact hymen and she winced with the slight pain it caused.  The gynecologist had told her it was unusually thick, that her first experience with intercourse would be quite painful, and had recommended surgical removal.  But she had politely declined, explaining to her that where HER interests lay, there was no chance of intercourse ever occurring.  A thoughtful look had passed between the two.

“Hmmm, the gynecologist’s cunt hadn’t been bad at all”, Sonya recalled, “but her technique had been abyssmal”.  She then thought of the one woman who had tried, in the middle of a sexual romp, to pierce her hyment; that woman had ended up screaming many times before Sonya had finished with her.

It was that thought which brought Sonya’s mind back to the delectable Hing Lee.  Hing Lee was grogeous, tiny, very childish even at the age of 23, and heiress to a huge fortune.  Sonya had been ordered to make her acquaintance her in Thailand because it was thought she was a major link in the Golden Triangle’s flow of opium back to the States.  She was also reportedly involved in smuggling arms out of the U.S and peddling them to non-friendly nations.

With her honed instincts for this type of thing, Sonya found it very difficult to believe that this child-woman could have anything to do with such things.  She had found out Hing Lee’s principal haunt, a very upscale bar in the center of town, and had “accidentally” bumped he rdrink, letting it spill over her own dress.  The bodyguards had moved in fast but Hing Lee had waved them away with that infantile look of exasperation and had wiped away the stains on Sonya’s very low-cut dress in an overly lingering fashion.

In a nonce, Sonya’s nipples had strained upwards through the fabric, as if trying to reach the chinadoll’s mouth.  Hing Lee had noticed and smiled knowingly at the tall stranger and Sonya had feigned an embarrassed, shy giggle.

Hing Lee had lightly pinched and tugged at the protruding nipples through the material and had begun caressing herself between her legs.  They had each quickly finished a drink and gone down the the Rolls which had taken them to Hing Lee’s vast estate just 3 minutes’ drive from Sonya’s hotel.  They had indulged in heavy petting in the back seat, the bodyguards seemingly blind to all that went on.  “God, men can be stupid.  As if I don’t know what they’re really thinking”, she had said to herself.

When they had emerged from the car both had been completely nude save for their expensive shoes.  They had run in, Hing Lee giggling with near hysteria at the sight of Sonya’s tits jogging up and down and sideways, the top of her own head just coming up to  Sonya’s majestically endowed sternum.  Hing Lee’s own breasts were those of a pre-adolescent, barely bulging with pert little nipples.  Her entire body was very narrow, no more than a foot wide at its broadest part, her ass sticking out like small buns in a rack, her cunt only very lightly downed with dark hair whose color matched the shining lustre of the silky locks on her head.

The bedroom was lavish with a four-poster canopy bed, stuffed chairs and luxuriant Persian carpets upon the oak floor.  Hing Lee had produced a bottle of ice-cold champagne and had popped the cork, an effusion of white froth fountaining out of the neck.  Sonya, her service training always to the fore, noticed the Asian woman licking her lips longingly and knew her heart that she would learn what she needed AND get her pleasure from this luscious simpleton.

With an effort Sonya had maintained her best behavior, playing the shy American, sipping champagne, and exchanging soft caresses.  She had found about Hing Lee’s affectation for playing the dominatrix when the waif had put her fingers to Sonya’s nipples and yanked hard in a downwards motion.  Sonya had gone to her knees, holding back countless blows, any of which would have killed that little cunt and dozens more that would have maimed her permanently.  She had had to cultivate this acquaintance and gain her trust if she was to learn anything, but patience, especially towards inferiors, had never been her strong suit.

Small hands had grabbed fistfuls of reddish hair and shoved Sonya’s face against her pelvic bone, bruising her nose.  Stifling a string of epitephs worth of the most crusty veteran of New York’s waste disposal industry, Sonya had begun to lap at the Oriental slit, whimperning now and then for effect.  The Asian had started calling her a sluat and had giggled in her mainiacal little way as she had produced from God knows where a long flat piece of hard rubber and had begun to spank Sonya as the latter tongued her.

Practising her highest form of self-restraint, Sonya had endured these indignities and began to feel the small woman beginning to shake as the spanking increased.  Small, throaty “uuuunnngh, uuuuunnngh, uuuunnnngh” sounds had risen from the darker woman and a sudden orgasm had made her blast her hips forward against Sonya’s nose, once more bringing tears to her eyes.

Looking down at her and laughing insanely Hing Lee had grabbed more hair and dragged Sonya to the bed.  Once there, however, there was no denying her expertise as within minutes she had stormed Sonya’s clit with a flurry of licks and had had her on the brink of a massive climax before slowing down and later starting again.  Sonya had been kept on tha tfine edge for 20 minutes before she had gasped and actually involuntarily yelped for the first time in her life as a massive orgasm had flooded her senses.

While lying back in that glowing aftermath, Hing Lee’s mouth had found those nipples again and, after sucking to make them stand at attention, her fingers one one and her mouth on the other, had without warning simultaneously pinched and bitten hard bringing yet another yelp from Sonya followed by Hing Lee’s high-pitched, totally infuriating laughter.  Sonya’s leap of fury had luckily been mistaken for pain and she had quickly mastered herself once more; but that was definitely NOT the same as forgiving and forgetting.

Before sending her back to her hotel, Hing Lee had beckoned Sonya to follow with a conspirational look, like a child who had decided to show an elder sibling some petty secret thing.  Follwing her downstairs and into a darkened hallway, Sonya had been led past a foot-thick oak and iron-strapped door which creaked with rust when opened.  Sonya had whistled in genuine appreciation, setting off giggles that were even more excited than before.

The room was huge, very high-ceilinged, and though the lights ere bright enough they did little to dispell the gloom created by the mildewed concrete walls and cheaply carpeted floor.  Throughout the room stood engines of bondage and torture which seemed to have sprung from the imagination of Marquis de Sade himself, or perhaps more from Torquemada’s twisted mind.  Rings, shackles and countless other devices graced the walls and floor.  Pulleys, dotted the ceiling and contraptions of nefarious use were everywhere.

But that was not what Hing Lee wished to show Sonya.  Taking her hand and skipping like a shcoolgirl at recess, Hing Lee had maerrily ler her to a darker corner whre stood a cage.  She was positively bubbling as she pointed inside to the figure of a Chinese woman who was on a table.  She was trussed up like a pig at Christmas dinner and chained to the heavy table surface.  She had a ballgag which filled her mouth so she could not close her jaws and a dildo had been shoved up her ass, another up her cunt.

“Poor little Blossom”, Hing Lee had said in her thick asian accent, feigning exaggerated pity.  “She be here five day; only one more to go.  Rook here, see tear on her face.  She must be very sad she have to leave”, she had continued in the same tone.  She had reached behind the victim, grabbed her clit and pinched.  A squeal and many more tears were the immediate result.  Hing Lee had giggled in high tones and had clapped her hands together loudly.  Sonya had already concluded that this clapping of hand signalled Hing Lee’s highest state of excitement and inevitably led to the inflicting of pain.

“My poo’ baby make sound without permission.  We know what that means!”  Going to a rack she grabbed a long whip and in one motion turned and flicked it, but not very hard, against the exposed buttocks.  This time there were more tears but no sound.  Sonya looked and the color the red mark on the victim’s ass was not very deep and would be gone by the next day.  Sonya had also noticed her own excitement growing as evidenced by her slickening cunt lips.

Hing Lee had later explained, “I arways keep girls her for six day, then they go home”. 

“Don’t they go to the police?” Sonya had inquired.

“Oh no, I pay girls good money to come here.  They sign contract; go home rich 6 day later.  And police don’t bother me anyway.”

Before leaving Sonya had asked is she could come back the folowing evening, knowing full well that Hing Lee was very taken by her new American acquaintance.  Hing Lee had quickly agreed but her childish domme excitement had led her to add “we make thing interesting; you can come only if wear this and walk here from hotel”, and she had held up the flimsy outfit that Sonya had now donned in her hotel room.  “Nothing else”, she had added, “except for shoes which driver will give tomorrow”.

Not wishing to jeopardize anything, Sonya had agreed and, still before the mirror she touched her upright nipples through their thin cloth badges.  They were still somewhat sore and she winced.  “Oh yes, she was going to make that fucking little chinese whore pay.......big time.”  She began to think of what she would do.  “Hing Lee might like to play the msitress but she had nothing to back it up.  She had a great dungeon, admittedly, but had no guts to push things and certainly didn’t have the imagination to use it properly.”

For a moment, Sonya considered carrying Hing Lee down to her own dungeon for a little session.  It wouldn’t be difficult.  She decided to play it by ear; anyway, she could do more with her bare hands and string bikini than that little whore could with TWO dungeons.  She looked at her wrist and irritation gripped her, seeing as the watch was not there; Sonya was going to follow Hing Lee’s instructions to the letter...........to start with, anyway.  She found it, saw that it was already 2:35 PM and knew it was time to go.

She could tell the Asian woman was hooked on her and, knowing this as well as how women normally acted in such cases, also knew that tonight she coulod walk all over Hing Lee and it wouldn’t even be held against her.

Grabbing her room key, she exited her room and, realizing she didn’t even have room to hide so much as an aspirin on her, passed by the front desk with long, leggy strides and tossed it to a clerk waiting nearby.  Without checking, she knew that the ‘chink’ clerk followed her ass with his look till she stepped out the front.

It was 95 degrees outside and within 30 seconds a sheen of perspiration shone upon her tawny muscles.  She chanced to look down and saw that the moistness had turned the white triangles of material to filmy gauze.  She could see her nipples and damp pubic hair almost as if she were completely naked.  “FUCK that Hing Lee”, she thought.  She didn’t usually care so much about such things; she had done all sorts of things to lead on all those stupid men, only to dash their hopes; but it was Hing Lee’s motive to embarrass her that tweaked her anger.

She kept walking to growing stares.  Knowing there were men both behind and in front of her at a distance of about 10 feet, she stopped of a sudden and bent over double as if to adjust a sandal strap.  She heard audible gasps as her cunt and tits bulged out in plain view.  She loved doing that to those horny bastards.  Men had absolutely no shame and even less pride.  All that really mattered to them, she had figured very early in life, were their balls, dick and getting their rocks off.  At the age of 12, she had gone out with Jeff Parney, 17 year old captain of the football team.  He had treid to touch her cunt and she had broken both his arms. “That’s what 8 years of karate will do for a 12 year old”, she mutterd to herself as she kept walking, not paing attention to her surroundings.

She then remembered two of the more disgusting truths about men.  She had, out of curiosity and contempt for men, assisted at a few S/M sessions in London.  One man had been tied up and kept erect for 15 straight hours, always on the brink of coming but never quite being pushed over the edge.  There had been one woman or other whose lips had been on his cock (the mere thought simply revolted her; she even refused to eat bananas and hotdogs; just the sight of a woman doing so almost made her puke).  By the fifteenth hour, he had finally broken down and had even agreed to drink another man’s piss and suck his cock till it came, if only they would make him come himself.  He had swigged the piss and sucked a cock, which confirmed EVERYTHING Sonya had theretofore suspected: that men had absolutely NO control over their own bodies and they wre weaklings because of it.  A cruel smile crossed Sonya’s lips as she recalled how that man had finally sucked off the other until the cock had cum in several massive disgusting jets all over his face; the women then brought him to the edge of orgasm and just left him there, laughing all the while.  “What saps men were.”

She broke from her thoughts, swearing to herself as she realized she had missed a turn given all her musings; She took her bearings and cut through an alley, trying to run a little in her stiletos.

Wolf whistles and remarks cut the air, “Hey little girl, you want some candy?”, as well as the laughter which followed another typical, very imaginative male comment.  Four young toughs stood there, one of them obviously having learned English from watching stupid copshows.  They were heavily tattooed and pierced, just like the animals they were.  “Slaves and fucking animals”, she thought; “they were soooooo FUCKING useless”.  They approached with snide, confident looks.  With more annoyance than anything else, Sonya kicked, lunged, chopped and used her elbows in a well timed flurry.  “That’s what 23 years of karate will do for a 27 year old”, she muttered again leaving behind four lads who would undoubtedly be singing soprano for some time.  “ALL men should be castrated at birth”, she added as an afterthought to herself. 

She arrived on time at the front gates of the estate but her bikini was soaked through though she had managed to put everything back in place.  She rang the bell, noting that this was an entry different from the one used the night before.  This one only admitted the view of ten feet of grassy lane before it veered off and disappeard in a tangled jungle hedge whose trees towered well over 100 feet.  A large Nubian man walked up.  Without so much as looking her up and down or greeting her, he unlocked the gate and she walked through and down the grassy path.  Just around the corner she smiled at Hing Lee’s attempt to charm her.

She had sent a beautiful little two-wheeled trap.  It wa bright red with white trim.  Its spoked wooden wheels glistened with white paint.  In the front was a comfortable looking leather seat without a back and a canopy covered it from the elements.  Two parallel poles projected from the front, also ivory tinted, between which stood a little white pony.  Although an adult, its head hardly reached her elbow.  It was garnished in a red bridle, harness and traces; its metal bit shone between its teeth.  Rising from its forehead rose a large, fanciful, scarlet plume which, when the horse wasn’t drinking from the stone trough in front, it waved about to scatter a few attendant mosquitoes.

Seeing by the black man’s unnoticed exit that she was to to on alone, Sonya untied the reins from a ring set in the trough.  “Good”, she thought, not wanting to share such close quarters with a person who was both black AND a man.  She leaped in and found a light whip with a long straight handle under the seat.  Tugging the reins to one side, she flicked the end of the whip over the pony’s tail and she was off.

She noticed right away the pony’s gender.  For some odd reason, whether is was a freak or it this was a trait particular to this breed, samll as it was the pony had a full-grown stallion’s appendage and testicles.  Amused by their sway, she flicked the whip at the bouncing balls.  The effect was immediate.  The pony snorted and doubled its pace.  “Males are SOOOO vulnerable”, she sniggered.  Feeling somewhat excited about the upcoming tryst and, if the truth be known, about tormenting the pony’s balls, Sonya felt a thorough wetness between her legs.  Looking around and seeing that they were still in the jungle secition, she extended the whip forward and down then snaped it upwards administering a savage cut from beneath the pony’s sac.

It neighed shrilly and broke into an uncontrolled gallop and Sony smiled.  When she had flashed the whip she had not seen just the pony’s balls but all men’s ......... as well as the small, beautifully rounded posterior of one Hing Lee.  The more she thought about the dungeon, her nostrils flaring, the more it was becoming a DEFINITE possibility in Hing Lee’s future.

Yanking hard on the reins, Sonya stopped the cart, threw the reins to another black attendant----“God, where do these bozos come from?” ----- and leaped to the stairs of the massive porch.  On her way here she had gone through 300 yeards of jungle and an equal length of manicured lawns.  She had seens everal brick huts in the distance but the drug investigation could wait 12 hours or so.  Whoever had first said, “Business before pleasure”, had obviously never been licked off by Hing Lee.

By the time she had neared the door it had already swung open to reveal the beaming, giggling, young woman-child who was obviously still on her domination kick.  She was clad in skintight black boots of soft, shiny, obviously very expensive leather.  Her small feet came to tiny black points in front of extremely high arches curving back down to heels even hgiher and thinner than the ones Sonya waas enduring.  The boots rose well above the knees to finish at mid-hip on the ousides of her legs and nearly up to her crotch on the insides.  From the top of her feet all the way to the crotch, in a two-inch wide path, Sonya saw zigzagging laces of the same dark color.  A tight corset hugged her lower torso, laces down the front, which pushed up her tiny tits to actually give her some semblance of cleavage, her nipples pointing straight out, betraying Hing Lee’s highly excited state.  Long black silk gloves reaching to her biceps added flair to the outfit.

Sonya stepped inside the entrance and bent lower to give her a savage open kiss, putting her hand behind Hing Lee’s head in order to mash their lips together.  The air conditioning and the excitement immediately made Sonya’s nipples jut through the flimsy material of her top.  After their mouths unlocked, Hing Lee, never one to say much, giggled nervously, seemingly a bit unsure, and crooked her finger at Sonya to invite her to follow and she led the way to the bedroom upstairs.  The combination of high boots and very high heels emphasized the roundness of her tiny round buttocks and the visible mound between her legs was already beginning to split, an open invitation to Sonya.  She followed, staring.  Staying several steps behind while going up the steps, the view was spectacular and lust gripped Sonya’s loins, lust like she had rarely felt before.

Once in the now familiar bedroom, Hing Lee popped open another bottle of what was apparently the best champagne.  It seemed it was all she drank; in the bar, the Rolls, in the room on Sonya’s previous visit.  Sonya couldn’t care less.  Booze was booze, in her opinion, and she was partial only to corn whiskey.  Many were the times whe had drunk men twice her size under the table.  Seeing two glasses of the most delicate crystal in her hostess’s hands, Sonya, ever the class act, grabbed both, drained the left, then the right and tossed away the glasses, hearing them shatter in the corner.

She saw the look of uncertainty and perhaps a little fear in Hing Lee’s stunned expression and smiled to herself.  She was always glad when she was right, which was most of the time.  And she was right about Hing Lee.  One look at her told Sonya that she was a rabbit in leather.  “That’s what was so attractive about these low-life Asian whores’, she thought, “it’s their frailty and submissiveness”.  Oh yes, the dungeon was now not merely a possibility, it was a certainty. 

Having previously undone both bows to her top Sonya whipped it off and wrapped it once completely around the small woman’s neck and held both ends in her right hand.  Hing Lee grabbed at her own throat but was no match for the Amazon before her.  Sonya gave a savage downward jerk to the top and Hing Lee crashed to her kees right in fron of her, gasping for air.  “Come here you slant-eyed cunt!  You chink bitch!  You’re a fucking pig and it’s feeding time down at the hairy trough!”

Having warmly expressed her sentiments and slipped out of the rest of her bikini, Sonya passed her right leg over the silky black head of the kneeling victim.  Now straddling the thong with her right hand in behind her she gave another strong pull and Hing Lee’s face smashed in the red-haired pubic trough.  Unable to do anything Hing Lee placed her hands on her aggressor’s hips and, still choking from the tight cloth around her throat, began to alternate between whimpering and licking the slime from Sonya’s gaping gash.  Sonya luxuriated in the feel of that magic tongue.  “Jesus, you’re a good slut.  Keep it up before I smack you. Hell, if you’re REALLY good, maybe I’ll keep you as a personal slave”, she laughed.  She had reached over to the nearby bedpost with her left hadn and picked up the hanging har rubber crop she had espied upon entering the room.  The marks on her own ass had more or less disappeared by that morning.  She was going to teach this whore how to really make it sting.

By sitting down on the edge of the bed, the thong still under her ass, its end in her right hand behind her, Hing Lee’s ehad was forced to follow down and forward, making her go on hands and knees.  Her ass was deliciously protruding from below the edge of the black corset.  “Lick me, you bitch, you chink whore; now you’re just an animal like the rest of them.”

Sonya then aimed.  A sharp whistling sound ending in a tremendous THWACK! Caught Hing Lee on the ass and she interrupted her feeding with a howl, muffled by quim.  Reminded by this effect of the white pony, Sonya tauntingly asked, “Would you like to be my pony? My little yellow chink pony, hugh? Why don’t you neigh for me, cunt!”  Another THWACK singed the second ass cheek.  “I LOVE playing with ponies.”  She then heard a muted, sobbing, poor imitation of a horse coming from near her cunt.  Quickly getting off the bed and straddling the other woman’s narrow back she pulled the thong like reins and urged her onw with another stinging blow, “Giddy-up, pony!  HYAAH!!”  After a few steps on all fours, the shaking Hing Lee collapsed uner her load.  Sonya got off and dragged her back to the bed and again sat on its edge with the thong back in its position underneath her and around Hing Lee’s neck, but with a couple of inches of slack.

“Now you’re gonna finish the job and finish it right.  Lick me off, bitch!  And after you’re through we’re gonna go down to your playroom, just me and you.  Does that sound OK to you, little pony-bitch, you chink cunt?”  Hing Lee just hung her head down, obviously overcome by anxiety and shaking.

“I asked you a fucking question! “  THWACK  Hing Lee flinched and the shaking stopped.  She looked up, her face framed by Sonya’s thighs, and meekly nodded, adding a faint, “Yes”.

“Yes, what!!??”  THWACK

“Yes, mistress.”

“Good!”  Sonya pushed herself towards the center of the bed and raised her legs, making a mental note that, judging by the way they ached slightly, that she should definitely never again walk a mile and a half in stiletto heels.

Now in the center of the bed, Sonya raised her knees high and put her heels on the mattress.  She stuffed both pillows under her head in order to better appreciate the coming view.  She was ready for her treat.  “Come closer my little slant-eyed slut”, she cooed as she pulled on the thong, forcing the face back in her muff.  That wondrous tongue began its work, first licking upa dn down the cleft, each stroke edging a little deeper.  Then its tip flicked across Sonya’s upright clit and she felt herself transported.  She gave some slack to allow scope fo Hing lee’s expetise and felt herself casrried away, further away, closer to a climax like she’d never had before.  She couldn’t even feel if her hips were thrusting anymore.

A blinding flash of pain surged through her clouds and she screamed.  Opening her eyes she saw Hing Lee’s face from her nose up, framed by her red bush and two thighs.  Hing Lee had Sonya’s clit between her upper and lower front teeth and she delivered once more a short, sharp bite, her eyes staring directly into the taller woman’s.  Sonya screamed again and swung out at the Chinese bitch, but her arm only rose a few inches before dropping.  Hing Lee’s face rose above the pubic forest , her eyes reminding Sonya of a wolf’s by firelight, her smile positively lupine.

Hing Lee’s mouth disappeard and another jolt of agony, worse than the others, propelled the wailing woman off the bed, onto the carpet, face down, her cheek pressed against the deep fibres.  In such a position, her slightly parted lips were perpendicular to the floor and her eyes acquired a heavy glaze.  She noticed a few last things.  She heard a giggle wilder than any before uttered by Hing Lee, accompanied by extremely loud and fast clapping of gloved hands.  Then that familiar exaggerated tone of childish condescending pity broke through:”Is my poor wittle pony-wider all tuckered out?  Aah, that’s SUCH a shame.  We’ll just have to find her a comfy womfy pwace to west, won’t we?  Did wittle pony-wider dwink something that made her sweepy?  She can west in my pway woom.”  At the same time, Sonya, in her limited field of vision, saw very closeup a long black spiked heel descending by her face directly in front of her lips.  She saw and felt the heel edge between her lips, moving up and down along them.  Then the tip began exploring her mouth.