Master Chen Fu Shek and the Beauty Queen

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

WARNING! THIS IS A WORK OF EROTIC FICTION. IT IS ADULT ORIENTED MATERIAL

OF A SEXUAL NATURE. The copyright of this story remains with the author, Night Owl. This

posting does not give you the rights to post this on any website. You must obtain the

author's permission prior to posting.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Master Chen Fu Shek and the Beauty Queen

By Night Owl

(Story Content: M/f, Abduction, Bondage, Intense Tickle Torture, NC)

Part 2

Awakening, Kelly became aware of her surroundings slowly. The darkness started to recede. Her head throbbed, unbelievably so. She could still smell that strange, sweet odor from the rag and its after effects made her feel dizzy again.

Where am I?

After gathering her wits, it didn't take long to realize what had happened to her since she passed out. First, she noticed that someone had removed all of her clothes, and second, that she was lying on a long wooden table. She felt the pull of her restraints next – her arms stretched over her head and cuffed together to some kind of metal extension arm; her feet also cuffed to another extension on the other end, keeping her body drawn tightly across the table.

Kelly tried to remain calm enough to take stock of her situation. She tested the restraints by twisting her arms and legs, but they wouldn't give an inch. The leather cuffs were thickly padded, allowing them to be tightened securely around the wrists and ankles without injuring them or cutting off their circulation. The room itself appeared to be some kind of a cellar. There was a dank, earthy smell, and no windows, only a single door off to her left. A single bulb hung down from the ceiling above her. It bathed her nude form in its warm glow, but unfortunately, not enough to shield her from the chilled, damp air. With some effort, Kelly managed to lift her head up off the table. She drew a gasp when she saw herself. Not only was she stripped of all her clothes, but someone had also taken the time to meticulously shave off all the hair between her legs. She stared in wide-eyed disbelief at the sight of her bald pubis, now as smooth as the day she was born. Dizziness suddenly overcame her again, forcing her head to drop back heavily onto the table.

There was nothing to do now, but wait, which seemed like hours until Head Master Chen Fu Shek finally made his entrance through the single door. He walked to the head of the table and peered down at his new captive with a sinister smile.

"Are you comfortable, my dear?" he inquired. "If my associates performed their tasks properly, you should be quite helpless, but in no real discomfort."

"W-why am I tied up like this?" Kelly asked him nervously, though she wasn't sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

"This is how I begin all of my interrogations," he said, "by stripping the prisoner, then stretching and binding the limbs like so for optimum exposure of the body."

He studied her reactions closely. She was already beginning to sweat under the arms a little, and he could smell the fear building within her. The scent was intoxicating.

"P-please," she begged, "don't hurt me . . ."

"Hurt you?" he laughed. "Certainly not. I do not torture my prisoners -- at least not in the traditional sense. No, you are much too fine a specimen for such crude brutality. My methods of persuasion are more subtle, but I assure you, they can be just as unbearable as the whip."

"T-this has to be a mistake! I . . . I don't know anything!"

"Of course you don't, my dear. You were not brought here to answer questions, but for my own pleasure."

The Master Interrogator circled the table and checked each restraint. His assistant, Soon-Lee had done well in preparing the girl. Indeed, her entire form was like a living tableau of helpless female flesh. Her arms were extended past her head, exposing those smooth, moist pits. Her delicate ribs protruded from the plain of her stomach, her breasts rising and falling with each ragged breath. He inspected the smooth mound of flesh between her legs without touching it and was satisfied that the area had been shaved completely.

"Mmmmm, yes," he nodded with approval. "This will do very well for what I have planned."

He moved to the end of the table. A wicked smile then came to his thin lips as his gaze beheld her lovely feet. Her perfect red toenails glistened in the dim light, and the delicate bridge between her soles and heals looked especially inviting.

"W-what are you going to do?"

"Patience, my pet. You will find out very soon."

He took an elaborate gold pipe out of his robe, then put it to his mouth and lit the bowl, which was shaped like a dragon's head. 

"This is an ancient strain of opium I keep for just such occasions. It relaxes inhibitions, yet heightens the tactile senses. It also induces spells of involuntary laughter that I find most entertaining."

He stoked the pipe until a halo of smoke surrounded his head, then he bent down, and through the golden dragon's mouth, expelled a thick stream of intoxicating smoke into Kelly's face.

The smoke caught her off guard and she coughed trying to catch her breath. In a matter of moments she could feel herself becoming light-headed. When he blew another thick cloud, she breathed it in freely. She was totally relaxed now. All tension seemed to drift away and a wave of giddiness swept over her. Although her situation was far from amusing, she began to feel an overwhelming urge to laugh.

The Master took one hit for himself and placed the pipe on a tray near the table, then stepped out of her field of vision. Kelly could hear him moving about but she couldn't see what the Chinaman was up to. 

"Wha . . . whaaaat are you doing? She stammered.

"I'm preparing my instruments."

"Are you going to play me a song?" she giggled.

"No, I'm going torture you, my dear."

"Oh yeah. Go ahead then, 'cause I'm feelin' no pain."

"Good. That means we are ready to begin."

He walked to the table and held his hands up where his pretty captive could see them. Perched between his long fingers, were two dark, wispy goose feathers, one for each hand. Kelly gasped when she saw them. She sobered up immediately, then instinctively tried to bring her arms down, but her hands only jerked helplessly against the unyielding restraints.

"You fear these," he said, twirling the supple plumes with a flourish in front of her unblinking eyes. "As you should, my dear. A single feather dragged ever-so-lightly against the skin can produce the most unbearable results for one who is so ticklish."

He circled the table slowly and as he did this, he made a speech.

"I have a history lesson for you, my pet. Something for your pretty mind to ponder on before we begin. In ancient China, tickling was often used as a form of execution for unfaithful wives -- a crime considered most unthinkable among the aristocracy. Guests were usually invited to watch the spectacle. After a large feast, the wretched creature would be dragged into the room, stripped of her Hanfu, then suspended naked upside down with each arm bound to a stake to immobilize her, stretching her limbs. The punishment was usually carried out by another woman, in some cases, more than one, all specially trained in the art of tickling. At first, the victim would squirm and laugh, then as the tickling grew more intense, pain would set in, replacing the laughter. The husband and his guests would often place wagers on how long the doomed woman should survive the ordeal. The tickling was non-stop, and would not cease until her diaphragm, and sometimes, even her heart collapsed, due to the continuous, involuntary motion of the muscles. Sometimes the victim would be suspended by the wrists with the legs left unrestrained so the body could move freely. This method was often used as a form of sexual entertainment among Chinese nobility, usually with a beautiful, young peasant girl brought in as the unwilling recipient."

Kelly's eyes were as large as saucers. His words struck a fear in her worse than the thoughts of rape and torture she dreaded earlier. She had always been terribly ticklish. It was the one thing that she just couldn't tolerate. Her mind began to flash images of all the times her own ticklishness had betrayed her – an outburst of laughter at the doctor's office during an abdominal exam; an appointment with a masseuse that had to be canceled abruptly because she could not bare the touch of someone else’s hands; the manicurist she accidentally kicked during her last pedicure. Now, this evil-looking man was holding two feathers, only inches from her body, and talking about torturing her with the damn things. Poor Kelly was terror-struck.

Master Chen paused a moment to let her anticipation build. Tickling was not only an art form, it was also a science. Its mental aspects as well as the actual physical contact had to be coordinated carefully to achieve the optimum effect. Holding the two feathers in front of her again, he carefully planned his first line of attack, and then slowly lowered his hands.

"No please, wait! No . . . STOP!"

Kelly squeezed her eyes together and gasped as he placed the feathers against her wrists, and dragged them lightly down her arms. When the feathers reached her armpits, Kelly's reaction was immediate and un-suppressible. She squealed out in peels of helpless schoolgirl laughter, her delicate limbs jerked helplessly against the leather restraints, but there was no escaping the constant, unmerciful strokes. The Master skillfully traced the deep hollows under her arms then dipped the feather tips into the centers of her moist, warm flesh.

"At first, it is almost amusing, isn't it?" he teased.

"Noooo . . . S-STOP . . ." Kelly protested through spasms of escalating laughter.

For a moment, he focused all his attention on her arms, swirling the flowing dark plumes up and down her pits like an artist working on canvas, then he dragged them down to the sides of her breasts and back up her arms again in a slow steady rhythm, again and again. Kelly jerked and twisted against the table in response. Her lovely, full breasts swayed from side to side as they tried to keep up with her writhing. The feathers trailed down her sides and traced the soft contours of her ribs. Laughter shook her violently, robbing her of any ability to speak. The pores of her trembling flesh opened up, creating a soft sheen of sweat all over her body. Her flowing mane of silky dark hair whisked about, nearly covering her face. Master Chen dragged his feathers up the outer curves her breasts again. He circled them slowly, with each rotation closing in on her nipples. His eyes gleamed with delight as the pink buds of flesh hardened to the size of freshly picked raspberries. He teased her firm, ripe breasts for what seemed to her an eternity before stopping a moment to give her depleted lungs a chance to get some air.

"I am very proficient at this, am I not?"

Kelly said nothing, but merely lay there gasping.

He reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out two more identical feathers. Holding a pair in each hand, he placed them carefully on her nipples, positioning each firm, succulent bud between the two quills, and then he moved the feathers in a gentle sawing motion. The girl went wild, screaming frantically in spasms of giddy laughter as the edges of the feathers tormented her nipples in a slow, steady, methodical rhythm.

"Is it pain, or is it pleasure? That is the beauty of tickle torture. The sense of touch is like a fickle mistress. It will always betray you."

He swirled all four feathers around her breasts, then gave her armpits another lesson in unmerciful, non-ending ticklishness.

"I have tortured many prisoners on this table," he said, "usually to retrieve some information for the Te-Wu, or perhaps, elicit a confession. In every case, my use of tickling has been very effective in achieving those results. Almost too effective, to my disappointment. Quite often my victims would break down very early in the session, or 'spill their guts' as you Americans say, thus, leaving me somewhat unfulfilled by the experience. So it is a rare opportunity that I get to apply my craft without interruption, and of course, to have such a lovely adversary as my captive."

"P . . . please . . .!”

Kelly tried to speak, then broke into another series of gut-wrenching laughter, her taut belly dipping well-below the rise of her rib cage as he swirled the feathers around her navel.

"Ahhhh, you are very ticklish here, I must remember this," he laughed, and spent several long, agonizing minutes tickling her quivering abdominal muscles before dragging the feathers back to her breasts.

"Together, you and I are going to explore every inch of flesh, and as we discover your most sensitive spots, we will exploit them in ways you have never experienced before, pushing you, both physically and mentally, to the very limits of what a human being can endure."

When he finally removed the feathers from her breasts, Kelly sighed and coughed in relief as she gasped for breaths through the after shocks of giggling. She didn't even notice Master Chen moving silently to the other table. He set the feathers down neatly in a row, then selected a large calligraphy brush from his collection and held its tapered horsehair tip up so she could see it.

"No please! Don't please. No more. I beg you!"

"Oh, but I must," he twirled the bamboo brush handle between his fingers. "We have so very little time and so much yet to explore -- like this lovely navel of yours, for instance. How deep and inviting it is!"

"Nooooo . . . pleassssse . . .!”

Her stomach trembled as he lowered the fleecy tip into her bellybutton. Her pleas turned to giggles, and Kelly tried to roll her body away, but The Master Tickler merely pressed his forearm into her pelvis to keep her steady, then took the brush again and drilled the course hairs into the depths of her navel while she squirmed in ticklish agony.

"P-please . . . N-n-no more. Oh . . . G-GOD, I'm BEGGING you . . . pla . . . please . . .," her voice was barely a whisper.

He moved the brush to her nipples and traced the pebbled flesh lightly with its fiendish tip. It was maddening having to endure such titillation with her arms pinned down, rendering them useless as a means of defending herself. She moaned and squirmed as he ground the horsehairs into each swollen nub, touching off hundreds, if not thousands of nerve endings there.

Suddenly, he abandoned the brush, but without giving Kelly a chance to catch her breath, placed his hands on her sides and began probing her lower rib cage with his long, sharp fingernails. Tears of ticklish frustration streamed from her eyes. Her vision blurred, her chest heaved for air. She tried to beg for mercy, but could not formulate any words as the feather-light touches wiggled up the sides of her breasts.

For the first time, Master Chen felt her flesh beneath his hands and it excited him. His cock stiffened and his head swirled with rapturous delight. He poked, prodded, and lightly scratched the soft flesh of her breasts with his long nails, then wormed his fingers into her armpits and teased them relentlessly with all ten digits. Her laughter grew wilder. Her body jerked violently on the table, her lovely ass slapping shamelessly against the hard wood surface.

"Pleeeeeese . . . oh . . . PLE-HE-HE-HE-HEEEEESE!"

Kelly was sure she was going to die. Her sides hurt terribly and it felt like every blood vessel in her head would burst all at once if she had to endure any more tickling. The Master showed no signs of slowing down though. He skillfully worked his fingers around her ribs and tummy like a pianist lost in some concerto. Her smooth, creamy skin was now marked with red rashes from the endless scratching of his nails. He attacked her abdominals again, and suddenly she was plagued with fits of silent, gut-wrenching laughter due the lack of oxygen in her lungs.

Then just as Kelly felt she might faint, the tickling stopped.

"It is time for both of us to rest awhile,” he said, and continued to speak while massaging his tired fingers.

“As you have seen, my methods of torture can be very effective. The art of tickling has been used and perfected within my family for six generations. I first witnessed the gift when I was just a boy. My grandfather ran a brothel in old Shang-hi. One day I heard laughter coming from the cellar, so I went to investigate. I was only ten, but I still remember the vision clearly to this day. There I saw my grandfather disciplining one of his girls - for what, I do not know, but her offense must have been serious. She was strapped to a table much like the one you are now lying on. Her silk kimono robe had been undone and left wide open to expose her body. I had never seen a woman in the flesh until that day, and I was quite taken by her beauty. As I hid in the shadows, he tickled every square inch of her helpless naked form. She filled the cellar rooms with the sounds of painful laughter, and shrieked, unable to catch her breath. He would let her rest every now and then, and listen to her hysterical pleas for mercy while selecting a new implement before resuming the torture. I watched, fascinated, for how long, I do not know. After what seemed like hours of prolonged tickling, the girl finally became still. I thought he had killed her. In my fear, I stumbled over some crates and was discovered. I thought my grandfather would be furious, but instead, he laughed and motioned me into the room.

"'Here,' he handed me a brush tipped with boars hair, 'you must learn some time, grandson, if you are to continue the line.'

"He positioned me at her bare feet, then revived the girl. I remember the sounds of her laughter. I remember how her feet jerked and squirmed against the brush. I believe that was the very first time I felt sexually aroused by the sight of a woman.

“’You have the gift,’ my grandfather told me.

“Under his expert tutelage, I became proficient in the art of tickle torture. He taught me everything he knew, as he did for my father, of whom I learned much later, used to practice his skills on my mother almost nightly while I was fast asleep in the next room. Finally, at the age of seventeen, I became disciplinarian at my grandfather's brothel."

After finishing the story, Master Chen Fu Shek moved around the table to the extension arm where Kelly's feet had been restrained. He turned a latch underneath, splitting the arm in two, and moved one half to the side, then the other, stretching her long legs into a V before locking them in place. Kelly felt the cool air rush in between her thighs, and the fact that all the hair had been shaved off down there made her feel even more vulnerable. The Chinaman inspected the flower of her sex and laughed out loud. Her smooth, pink folds were flushed and dripping with her arousal.

"Mmmmmmmm, it seems you have been enjoying this more than you would care to admit."

He moved to the head of the table and adjusted the extensions to her arms in the same way so that her body was now spread-eagled. This deepened the curvature of her underarms, and once again, the sounds of painful laughter filled the room as he dug his fingernails into her naked pits. The next few minutes were agonizing. His fingers danced and prodded around her breasts, across her belly and ribs, then back up to her arms for another dose of tickling before giving her a break. As Kelly lay there sweating and gasping for breath, he brought his nose down to one armpit and inhaled her scent as if he were sniffing the cork of a fine wine.

"Excellent," he sighed, then tasted her salty flesh with his tongue. "Not only does a woman's sweat serve as an excellent lubricant, it also creates a perfectly intoxicating bouquet to the senses."

He slithered his long snake-like tongue around both pits, then over her ribs and breasts, leaving trails of saliva to mingle with her sweat. Kelly arched her back and drew a heated sigh as he took each nipple into his mouth. He suckled them, gently nibbled on them with his sharp teeth until her nubs swelled and turned a rosy pink. Kelly's breathing melted into quiet moans, the pleasure building inside her. Suddenly, the biting stopped.

Her mind was still swimming as he moved to the foot of table and positioned himself between her legs, and then slowly brought his hands up to her feet.

"N-no!" Her eyes snapped open.

"You have the feet of a Goddess," he teased. "Perfect in shape and form . . . the satin-smooth flesh . . . the deep arch between the toes and soles . . . very exquisite."

"Oh PLEASE . . .” Her toes wiggled helplessly in the cool basement air. Her feet jerked helplessly against the padded restraints. Kelly was in a deathly panic, her pulse and her mind racing. “Please no . . . not there!”

"Oh yes, especially your feet. Foot tickling is my own special passion. It's rare that I get a pair of perfect pallets such as yours on which to practice my art."

"I'm begging you . . . NO . . . not my fffffeeee-He-He-He-Heeeet . . ."

Her pleas trailed off into helpless giggling as he dragged his fingernails up and down the tender undersides of both feet. Kelly had always been deathly ticklish there, in fact, the Chinaman seemed to know all of her 'hot spots' very intimately. The sensations shot out from the nerves at her feet like bolts of lightning as he wiggled his fingers between her heels and soles. She burst into uncontrollable whoops of laughter; her ass rocketed off the surface of the wooden table, and her naked body contorted into wild gyrations of ticklish agony.

"Oh GODDDDDD! She wailed, half-laughing, half-crying. "PLEEEE-he-heeezzzzz . . . SSSSSTOP!"

Master Chen stood poised between her legs, his long dexterous fingers clawing at her feet.

"Who would guess that such an innocent act could be used for torture?" he bellowed over her laughter. "It is quite evident that we have found another sensitive spot here, and very, very ticklish -- all the more pleasure for a foot fetishist."

Kelly howled in great laughing protests as he dug his fingernails under her toes. Her feet jerked violently against the restraints, her toes flexed and fanned, pawing the air in spastic gyrations. This delighted The Master to no end. He buried his fingernails into the tender bridges of her feet. Her smooth crotch was wide open to him, the flower of her sex exposed, and he watched with lust and admiration as she squirmed in front of him.

"Your endurance is impressive," he remarked with a measure of excitement. "I've had my pretty assistant, Soon-Lee, on this table many times, and she has not been able to endure half of the treatment you have experienced so far."

Wild helpless laughter was her only response. All that she had been subjected to before was nothing compared to these insidious attacks on her bare feet. Like spiders, his fingers crawled around the bare flesh of her soles, her toes, and ankles, again and again, for twelve long, horrible minutes. When he finally stopped, her head sagged to one side, her chest, shimmering with sweat, heaved up and down, trying to catch a breath.

"I see the overwhelming agony of having your feet subjected to such persistent tickling has weakened you. Well save you strength, my dear. You will need it again."

"P-please," she gasped, "please stop . . . can't breathe . . . I'll die if . . . if you don't stop . . ."

"I'm sure that will happen eventually, but not just yet. Not yet. Not until I have finished my work. You see, I am an artist, like da Vinci and Michaelangelo, and your body is my blank canvas. The American beauty queen, seduced by the Great Master, skilled in the ancient arts of tickle torture. Our story will inspire generations of ticklers, much like my father's exploits and his father before him have inspired me."

He gave her just a moment or two to collect herself, then moved in closer between her thighs. Up until now, Kelly's lower extremities had been largely ignored with the exception to her feet, but that was about to change. He placed a hand on each ankle, then slowly dragged his long nails up her calves and tickled her behind the knees. Kelly lurched her pelvis upward and slammed her ass back down hard against the table. The Master Tickler smiled. He had found another hot spot. He scratched and wiggled his fingers up her legs and tickled the opened crease where were her inner thighs joined with her pelvis. Yes, very sensitive here, too! Kelly squealed with laughter, twisting and trying to buck the fingers off.

"Your lovely agile body dances with the rhythm of my fingers, my dear. Oh, you don't know how much this pleases me!"

Her inner thighs were the mother of all ticklish spots, so naturally, Master Chen spent a great deal of time there, teasing the smooth flesh around her bald pubis, but without actually touching it. Then suddenly, he released an onslaught of feathery-light touches all over the rest of her body. Her lungs were fully depleted now, her pleas choked by fits of silent laughter, her body convulsing from lack of air. The sinews in her neck stood out visibly, the muscles under her ribs hurt like hell, and it felt like her lungs would explode if he didn't stop. It was a merciful faint that finally rescued Kelly from the ten nails. After her body went limp, the Chinaman grinned and kissed her bare soles, then made preparations for the climax of their session.

---------------------

Chen Fu Shek's plan to steel Kelly away had not been as full-proof as he thought, and while he was busily tormenting this poor girl in his lair, the Hong Kong Police Department had plenty of leads to work with. First, there was an old man that had witnessed the scuffle between the American and the four men in that dark alley. He gave a detailed description of her kidnappers to the police. Both a make of the truck and license number were also provided. In less than an hour, the truck was found with one of the kidnappers caught behind the wheel. He had apparently been under orders to ditch it, but decided to pay a local prostitute a visit first.

Now if this suspect were apprehended in the U.S., it would have taken days to retrieve any information, if anything at all. But in Hong Kong, not only was the prisoner never allowed the right to an attorney, the interrogations were often very brutal compared to American standards. Not surprisingly, it only took a few hours for the police to get all the information they needed from the prisoner -- including who was behind the kidnapping and the location of where Kelly was being held. The girl's boyfriend and the U.S. Embassy were briefed on the recent developments in the case, while three police cruisers and a wagon raced through the crowded streets of Hong Kong to an abandoned warehouse. All everyone could do now, was pray they would not be too late.

(Continued)