Chapter 9 The Black Pagoda
On a late-September evening a week or two later, a smartly-dressed couple
made its way through the teeming streets of Shanghai past a hundred crowded
stalls where hawkers sold everything under the sun, and turned into a narrow
gated passageway. At the gate, the guard, a huge, hulking man clad entirely in
black, recognized the male visitor, and admitted the man and his attractive
companion into the tree-lined walkway. The bovine-faced guard, mesmerized by
the beauty of the European woman, stared after them as the couple continued on
their journey toward the entrance of the most feared building in Shanghai -- the
magnificent home of Richard Chan known throughout the city as the Black Pagoda.
True pagodas are places of worship or memorials to the dead; the Black
Pagoda, despite its massive eight-sided configuration, and its four towering
stories, was neither of these, though many had prayed for deliverance and more
than a few had died in its cavernous underground dungeons.
A doorman, an ugly gap-toothed guard, also clad in black, admitted them
into the foyer of the palatial residence. Moments later, a pretty young girl,
who could have been no more than fifteen or sixteen, came to greet them, bowing
deferentially, and ushered them down a long, carpeted corridor and into the
salon of the Master of the Black Pagoda.
Standing with his back to them, admiring the agile, brightly-colored
occupants of a gigantic aquarium, stood a tall, silver robed figure.
"Your brother is here, Master," the young girl announced.
"Thank you, Ci-ci," Richard Chan addressed his youngest concubine. "Bring
us some tea, please." The demure servant nodded, bowed and left the room.
Richard Chan, lean and sharp-eyed, turned toward his guests. "Welcome back
from Singapore, George," he greeted his brother briskly. "How was your stay
there?"
George Chan was a few years younger and several inches shorter than his
older brother, who, at forty, was his fellow lord of the Black Scorpions, and
thus, of the underworld of Shanghai. While his slender brother wore an elegant
silver robe, cut in the classic Chinese style, barrel-chested George was dressed
in a dark business suit, courtesy of one of his occasional visits to Hong Kong.
Whereas the icy Richard rarely smiled, George seemed to be perpetually beaming.
But his intimates knew not to misinterpret his seemingly sunny countenance with
good humor. Beneath the jovial facade lay the soul of a man no less ruthless
than his elder brother.
George took the seat Richard offered. "It went very well, Richard; there
should be no more trouble with the..." he paused, and then caught himself,
remembering the blonde at his side, "shipments," he concluded.
"So this must be the new ... companion ... you mentioned in your letters,"
Richard asked as he appraised the tall, elegant blonde woman at his brother's
side admiringly. In his days at Oxford, he had read of "a face that launched a
thousand ships" and such was hers, a face of classic beauty with cheekbones that
might have been sculpted by a Phidias. She must be a sun-worshipper, thought
Richard Chan, to be possessed of a skin of such burnished gold. Her eyes were
the color of pale sapphires, a deeper darker blue than he had ever before seen.
A touch of rouge added color to her cheeks, a dash of lip-wax enhanced the
fullness of her lips. The scarlet cheong-sam she wore was slit high up her tawny
thighs but was buttoned to her throat. But even though it covered her upper
body completely, the crimson silk could barely contain the proud surge of the
majestic pair of breasts that pressed boldly against the sheer fabric.
Awestruck by the magnificence of her surroundings, the trembling young
woman's gaze made a slow tour of the room, dazzled by in the opulence of its
furnishings. Silken wall hangings, intricately hand-woven carpets from far off
Persia, porcelains that she suspected were hundreds of years old. One large
glass showcase held a priceless collection of antique swords; a smaller one held
a carefully arranged collection of time-worn objects that were shaped like
primitive spades and knives -- some of the early coinage of an ancient dynasty.
A magnificent bookcase along one wall contained hundreds of volumes; atop it
were what appeared to be scrolls of parchment engraved with Chinese characters
of an elegance such as she had never seen before. This certainly was the
sanctum sanctorum of one of the richest and most powerful men in China.
"Yes; she is quite lovely, is she not? Erika is German, you know, but has
lived here for some years and understands our languge," George added, as he slid
a hand possessively up the slit skirt of the young woman who stood submissively
alongside his chair, enjoying the warmth and softness of her thigh-flesh. The
girl tried her best not to shudder at the cold, reptilian touch of his hand.
"And, after a period of rebelliousness, she has learned to be quite ...
affectionate. In addition to possessing quite remarkable stamina."
"Really?" Richard raised an inquiring eyebrow, as he luxuriantly inhaled a
whiff of the swirling cloud of aromatic incense that permeated the room. "Tell
me more."
"A legation from the Emperor's council in Peking was in the city last week
while you were in Hong Kong. They had expressed some concern about some of
our," George paused, searching for the right word, "business practices."
Just then Ci-ci returned, carrying an exquisite enamelled tray, laden with
a teapot and three hand-painted cups. Ci-ci gracefully served tea to the
brothers Chan, and then offered the third cup to the trembling hands of their
exotic European guest, who seemed so out of place in the home of Richard Chan.
There was fear and desperation in those beautiful blue eyes --- a look Ci-ci had
come to know well in her brief stint at the Black Pagoda.
"Thank you Ci-ci; you may leave us." Bowing to her silver-robed master,
the graceful young concubine backed away on silent feet, letting the heavy
wooden door to the salon close ominously behind her. "A lovely creature, young
Ci-ci, isn't she?" Richard asked his brother as his eyes followed the retreat of
the winsome young beauty. "And she is only fifteen. A budding flower of rare
delight. Her skin is as soft as a baby's," Richard continued, before pausing
and once again facing his brother. "Forgive me, George. I have interrupted
you."
"She is charming, indeed. You have good taste, Richard."
"As do you, my brother, " Richard reciprocated, indicating George's
guest. "You were saying..."
"Ah, yes," George continued. "The legation was alarmed by some nasty
rumors that had made their way to the capital. But after an all-night soiree at
which Miss Weiss here, was the ... featured attraction ... they came around to
our way of thinking." George Chan smiled in remembrance. "As I surmised, most
of His Imperial Majesty's royal counsellors had never had a European woman
before, much less a Norse goddess like this one."
George's hand had slid up between Erika's legs to the juncture of her
thighs now. When she stiffened in disgust, the younger Chan gave her a menacing
look; obediently she moved her feet a little wider apart, giving the groping
hand free access between her legs.
Richard smiled thinly as he watched the missionary's daughter squirm in
shame and revulsion, envious of his brother's new possession. He wondered what
regimen of punishment had prompted her swift, shameless, obedience to his
brother's glare. His brother, he knew, was no less inventive than he.
Aroused by the thought, Richard rose, saying, "Come down to the cellar
with me, George, so that you can see why I have invited you here tonight. There
is someone waiting for us. And" he added a moment later, "We have pressing
matters of business to discuss."
George removed his hand from between Erika's legs and held it up to her
nose that she might smell the pungent musk of her femininity. "Not just yet,
Richard. Erika insulted one of my servants today; I have brought her here
tonight that she might learn a little humility."
Rising to his feet, George addressed the statuesque blonde at his side.
"On your knees, slut! No, not there. Facing the door."
His slave fell obediently to her knees, and then shifted around on the
green carpet so that she was about a yard away from the closed door that led out
of the salon.
George circled around to stand in front of her, just inside the doorway,
where he was soon joined by his taller brother.
"On your haunches, fraulein, as I have taught you."
Blushing with shame, Erika spread her knees as widely apart as the
tight-fitting cheong-sam permitted, and then leaned back on her heels, a picture
of erotic submission.
"The skirt!" George ordered.
Mortified beyond measure, the German girl's hands moved to the front
panel of her high-slit skirt, and slowly rolled the crimson fabric back, baring
inch after sensuous inch of gorgeous thigh flesh, while Richard Chan's eyes
climbed her long legs with the methodical thoroughness of a spider building a
web. He could feel his manhood thickening by the moment.
"You have chosen well, my brother; she is superb," Richard exclaimed,
his voice hoarse with lust.
"Thank you, Richard. I am delighted that she pleases you." George
turned back to his comely captive, the same deceptive smile never leaving his
face. "Now spread your thighs wider, whore -- spread them I say!" With the
skirt rolled up almost to her waist, Erika was indeed able to move her thighs a
few inches wider apart. She felt herself blushing furiously as the four dark
eyes of the Chan brothers raped the delectable blonde-fringed quim that winked
at them from beneath the crimson band of silk.
"The blouse -- unbutton it ... slowly, as you have been taught."
Erika's manicured hands moved to the top button of the cheongsam and
undid it nervously, before moving on to the next. There were twelve ebony
buttons, spaced about an inch apart, that held the flame-red top of the
cheongsam together from neck to navel. One by one she undid them, as the
brothers Chan watched with rapt attention. When the fourth button fell away
from its buttonhole, Richard and George got their first glimpse of the upper
slopes of Erika's splendid breasts, and the opening of the next two buttons
revealed even more succulent breastflesh.
Richard watched intently, his jaw working, his fists opening and
closing. A study in lechery.
The beautiful blonde's hands were shaking as she undid the seventh
button baring the inner curves of her magnificent breasts, and the inner edges
of her crinkly and kissable brownish-coral aureoles.
The last five buttons followed in quick succession, leaving a gaping
V-shaped opening in the crimson cheonsam. Richard Chan was struck by how much
sun her breasts and belly had been exposed to -- her flesh was tinted a
delicious shade of pale caramel.
When the last button had been freed, Erika's hands were free. Conscious
of the fact that her surging breasts were half-exposed to the lecherous gaze of
the brothers Chan, Erika crossed her arms in front of her in an attempt to
block their unobstructed view of her charms.
George responded to that violation of slave protocol by admonishing her
in a steely voice, "You have precisely three seconds, slut, to put your hands
behind your head and interlace your fingers, or you will wish that you had never
been born. One.... Two...."
Erika reacted to this threat by doing as directed. As soon as she did
so, she realized that that posture, caused her majestic lust-globes, bared
almost to the nipples, to jut out more provocatively than ever.
"Never, ever, try to hide your magnificent body from me again, fraulein.
Remember... it is no longer yours; it is mine."
"Nice... very, very nice," Richard whispered with admiration. He had had
European women before, during his studies in England, and here in Shanghai. But
he could not remember a body of such sculpted perfection. The German girl's
tanned thighs were long and strong, the product of youthful hikes in the
Schwarzwald; her superb breasts were gravity-defying in their youthful firmness.
A few faint striations on her mouth-watering pleasure-melons indicated that
Erika's juicy tits had not escaped their fair share of attention during her
regimen of training.
"Would you ring for Dao, please, Richard?"
"Certainly." Richard Chan moved toward a bell cord, never taking his
thinly-slitted eyes from Erika's luscious body. Richard pulled the cord firmly
and a minute or two later, the ill-featured Scorpion who had admitted George and
Erika earlier in the evening knocked briefly and then opened the door of the
salon. He was shocked to find the well-dressed European woman he had bowed to
her earlier kneeling half-naked on the floor, the beautiful silk dress up around
her waist, and open to her nicely-notched navel.
Dao drank in this full-breasted vision of Aryan loveliness for a moment
or two before pulling himself together and addressing his employer. "Yes,
Master?" he bowed obsequiously. Erika noticed again the gaping spaces between
the man's teeth.
Richard Chan gestured that he was to take orders from George, who wasted
no time giving directions. "Dao, Richard and I will be gone for an hour or so.
You are to remain on guard in the hallway. You have two things to remember."
"Yes, sir?"
"One : No one is to enter this room."
Gap-tooth's lip curled slightly in disappointment. Every now and then
Richard Chan rewarded his most loyal lackeys with young women; who could forget
that memorable night a few years ago when Chan had awarded him the
cock-stiffening pleasure of caning that pretty young shopkeeper's daughter in
the grim cellar of the Black Pagoda. He had whipped her sensuous body from
shoulders to knees, front and back, reducing no fewer than three bamboo canes
to ragged, scarlet-tinged stalks before she had passed out for the third time.
At that point, the Master had let him summon three of his comrades and
the four of them had revived the tortured girl and then taken turns plundering
the shapely wench's delicious young body until shortly before dawn.
Dao's attention returned to the present; George Chan was speaking.
"Two: See to it that Fraulein Weiss, here, does not separate her hands. Do you
hear, Erika? You are to maintain that position until we return; I can assure
you that you will not enjoy your punishment should you disappoint me."
After George Chan had issued that stern warning, Richard spoke, "Come
George, I have someone I want you to meet. And we have important business to
discuss."
George preceded Richard out of the door of the salon, and then as
Richard was about to close it, George said, "No. Leave it open, brother. Part
of my new slave's lesson in humility is that she is to be on display, to even
the lowliest of servants of the Black Pagoda, the humblest of footsoldiers of
the Black Scorpions.
"Very well, then, George. But, come, we have other matters to attend
to." And they proceeded down the hall, leaving the semi-nude Erika Weiss
kneeling a yard from the open doorway where Dao stood guard, his lust-crazed
eyes feasting on the carnal delights afforded by his prisoner's voluptuous body.
Moments later George joined his brother in a slow descent down the
sinister staircase that led to the bowels of the Black Pagoda -- toward a room
whose purpose he knew only too well.
