Chapter 22 Crouching Tigress
Under the pretext of giving Erika a moment to recover her strength before
her endurance was tested again, George had seized on that opportunity to begin
his campaign to forestall any intervention by the corrupt politicians from the
north into the criminal dealings of the Black Scorpions in Shanghai.
He began by telling the General and the others how much he and his brother
appreciated the visit of the delegation from the capital. As the Emperor,
Te-tsung, approached the tenth anniversary of his reign, surely it was the duty
of every Chinese to pay homage to his august personage. And tonight he
considered himself honored to entertain the Emperor's friends.
But it was important to bear in mind, he went on, that Shanghai was a city
of the Han people, while the members of the Imperial Court were largely Manchu.
The people of the Shanghai District had their own customs, and it was best not
to interfere with their local vices -- prostitution, gambling, opium. Doing so
could only stir up discontent. Had not the General spent fifteen years of his
life suppressing the Tai-ping rebellion? Would it not be foolish, he had
contended, to oppose the natural inclinations of the million souls who lived in
the great port city? Would it not be like trying to prevent the Yangtze itself
from flowing into the China Sea?
While he talked George had undone the silken bonds that linked Erika's
golden pony tail to the candelabra. Then he had undone the veil-cords that
fastened her wrists to her opposing elbows behind her back. The beautiful
blonde on the carousel had breathed a great sigh of relief, at being released
from that painful bondage and fell forward onto her hands and knees, facing
General Wang.
Would it not be best, George Chan had continued, to leave local matters in
the hands of local dignitaries like his brother and himself, men who knew the
people of the district? Men who knew the value of powerful friends? He had
paused then, to look each of his guests in the eye.
Each of the councillors from Peking took their eyes off the exhausted
vision of blonde loveliness who knelt before them when they heard those words.
George had smiled inwardly. The lust of the emperor's ministers was equalled
only by their greed. He did not name any sums; he did not need to. The six
councillors would expect tribute money commensurate with their offices, and they
would receive it.
It is true, he had gone on, that there were a handful of troublemakers,
agitators, who complained of the Chans' hegemony in Shanghai. Clearly, these
miscreants who opposed the Emperor's humble servant -- at this point he had
bowed with feigned humility -- had respect for neither the Kuang-hsu regime nor
the Emperor's court. Leave it to my equally loyal brother and I, he had
suggested, and I will wipe these seditious traitors from the streets of
Shanghai.
General Wang had listened patiently to George Chan's Metternichian
presentation, and nodded knowingly when it was completed. He was under no
illusions as to the loyalty of the Chans to the throne. They had loyalty to no
one but themselves. But there were worse things than an entente cordiale with
rich and powerful men. The Chans were wealthy, as evidenced by the palatial
Black Pagoda, not to mention the sumptuous banquet that had been prepared for
them. And now some of that great wealth was bound to come his way. Not to
mention the other amenities that the House of Chan offered, he thought, as his
dark eyes raped the sensuous body of the blonde girl so temptingly posed on her
hands and knees in the center of the banquet table.
The General bowed to George Chan, his hairless skull gleaming in the pale
light given off by the chandelier. "I believe we have an understanding, Mr
Chan. Are there any opposed to my reporting the fidelity of the House of Chan
to the Emperor's court?" Wang surveyed his cronies, who were doing their best
to assume the air of thoughtful ministers of state; he was hardly suprised to
find that there were none who dared to oppose his wishes.
"Excellent, General," George had responded. Then, tilting his head
slightly toward the missionary's daughter, he had observed, "I believe we are
ready for the final course."
Throughout this colloquy, Erika had felt like an insignificant pawn on a
chessboard much larger than any she had ever known. But at least, Gott sei
dank, George Chan's little speech had distracted her tormentors. Perhaps her
ordeal was over. She had looked up at George beseechingly.
"Nein, fraulein, " he had addressed her mockingly. "Your evening is far
from over. Would you deny our guests the right to celebrate our ...
rapprochement?"
He had mounted the chair once again, and had seized the kneeling beauty's
wrists and pulled her arms up behind her at a forty-five degree angle. Then,
once again using the very veils which had once covered her nakedness, he
affixed her wrists to the frame of the chandelier.
"Aahh!" she had grimaced softly as her arms were pulled painfully up behind
her.
Then with a gesture befitting a Master of Ceremonies (which, in fact, he
was) George gestured in the direction of the semi-prostrate maiden.
"I give you, gentlemen, The Crouching Tigress!"
And indeed there was something of a feline quality to the graceful, tawny
creature whose body was stretched so painfully by the silken cords attached to
her wrists.
"The Crouching Tigress? I do not understand this," Lu Chow squeaked in
his unmistakable high-pitched voice.
"Ah, forgive me, my friend," George continued. "You are Manchu. Perfhaps
you do not know the legend of the Crouching Tiger and Hidden Dragon."
Lu Chow's fleshy face bore the blank look of ignorance.
"The story is very old, Lu Chow." Doctor Wang interjected. "And quite
long. Suffice it to say that the Crouching Tiger and Hidden Dragon represent
unrealized talents; qualities that are hidden from general view until the moment
when they are most needed."
"Very well -- I see that the girl is the Crouching Tiger. But what is the
Hidden Dragon?"
General Wang threw his bald head back and laughed. "Your Dragon may be
less visible than most, my friend. But mine," and he removed a long, rigid,
dark-veined penis from his dark robe, "is hidden no more." Then reaching for
the blonde mane of the tigress before him, he pulled her head up to face his.
"It is said in the mountains to the west that tigers are always hungry,
blue-eyes. Well, feed on this!" and the general forced Erika's lovely face down
onto his swollen manhood. The jolt of that movement brought fresh drops of
scalding wax down on the back and buttocks of the tigress who was far more prey
than predator.
George had watched with interest as Wang had face-fucked the missionary's
daughter, thrusting his cock more and more forcefully into her mouth.
The general's uncle looked on with fascination, his eyes thin slits.
"Surely a tiger should have stripes, my friends," he whispered as he stepped
between Lu Chow and Sang Chu-ming, handing each of them one of the long-handled
spoons.
"Very good, old one," approved the cadaverous Sang as he blistered Erika's
pretty bottom with the shiny silver serving spoon. WHACKK!!
A strangled "Ngmff" was the only sound that Erika's cock-stuffed mouth
could produce.
"There's your first stripe, Tigress," exulted the forbidding scarecrow,
through his thin gray beard. "The first of many, I trust. Add another, Lu
Chow!"
Standing behind her and slightly to her right, the fat man lashed Erika
sharply across the back of her long, well-toned thighs. "Nfmgph!!" she grunted
again.
"Uncle," General Wang observed as he continued his cock-thrusts deep into
Erika's mouth, "Will you not take part in Taming the Tigress? It is good sport,
I assure you!"
George Chan had then watched, somewhat mystified, as the doddering old man
had made his way unsteadily over to the sideboard where the dirty dishes from
the grand repast had been stored. There he puttered around seemingly aimlessly.
Puzzled by the old man's seemingly senile movements, George glanced back toward
Erika, noticing that Hsi Fong and Cheng had moved closer to the general. Each of
them had bent forward to lick at the heady mixture of sweet sticky port
commingled with one or two drops of blood - courtesy of Dr Wang's razor-sharp
nails - from the curves of a plumply pendulous breast. Cheng pulled her tasty
right breast toward his face, as his mouth roved hungrily all over the
pink-tipped sphere of flesh.
"My colleagues seem to like the taste of your breast-blood, fraulein. Tell
me," he bellowed, "How do you like the taste of Chinese cock?!" The general
grunted with lust as he continued to ram his fleshy swagger stick into the warm,
moist cavern of Erika's defenseless mouth.
"She shall learn to like it tonight!" Hsi Fong exclaimed grufly. Now that
the port had been sucked from her breast flesh, Fong's fingers closed on Erika's
left nipple-budt. "Or be made to suffer the consequences."
"Nghmgph!!" Erika groaned and wriggled in breast pain. But the movement
only served to spill more droplets of hot wax down on her bottom cheeks. Where
they were greeted by painfully pulverizing strokes from the spoon-wielders.
"Do you know why we are the most populous people on earth, fraulein?" the
general demanded in between lunges.
Erika could barely breathe, much less speak.
"Because Chinese men can fuck like no others, foolish woman! That is why
there are more of us than there are on your entire accursed continent!" And as
if to prove the veracity of his claim, the general redoubled the violence of his
thrusts, nearly choking the "Tigress" with his "Dragon".
"Old one, you have rejoined us," Lu Chow remarked just before he slashed
again at Erika's deliciously rounded ass-cheeks, leaving yet another dark stripe
with the palmyra. Erika choked out a strangled "NGGNMF!"
Dr Wang carried two small cruets in one hand and a dozen chopsticks in the
other. He set them down on the table just as Sang laid into the blonde's
shapely buttocks with another solid WHACK! with the metal spoon.
"Ah, the stripes are forming, I see," the aged doctor observed in the tone
of voice he used when propounding his own peculiar version of wisdom.
"Continue, my friends," the aged Doctor encouraged. Lu Chow and Sang Chu-ming
did not disappoint him; each delivered an encore to Erika's shapely
buttock-mounds.
George had watched bemusedly as the octogenarian dipped a pair of
chopsticks into one of the diminutive, half-filled pitchers. The gray-haired
old man removed the sticks, now dripping with sesame oil, and held them in a
trembling left hand while he dunked a second pair of sticks. When the second
pair was equally well-oiled, he leaned forward between Erika's widespread legs
and slid the four sticks into Erika's gaping pussy, as she gurgled in surprise
and discomfort.
The old man rolled the handle-ends of the chopsticks between his fingers,
causing the tapered end of the wooden sticks to scrape the walls of Erika's
tender vagina.
WHACKK! The fat man slapped her right buttock with one spoon while the
droopy-bearded Sang Chu-ming swatted her left cheek with the other.
Young Cheng, meanwhile, was touching a woman's breast for the first time
since his infancy (save for the slaps he had delivered earlier in the evening).
He squeezed the blonde's right breast, first rather timidly, and then more
assertively, marveling that a globe so firm to the touch, should have skin so
soft. And warm -- doubly so from the rough treatment it had sustained. His
tight grip produced two fresh pearls of claret from the long thin gash that Dr
Wang had left.
Cheng's manhood was lustily hard as he leaned forward, covertly rubbing his
swollen organ against the table's edge. His jaw was tight with desire as he
watched his commanding officer rape the so-recently-virginal mouth of the young
German woman. What he wouldn't give to thrust his hot, throbbing prick between
those sweet pink lips! By the ghost of Genghis Khan, he hoped he'd get the
chance!
Moments later, General Wang pulled his rampant prick from the mouth of the
tortured blonde. "Agh! Aghh! Aghhh!!" he grunted as his prodigious member
launched a protracted volley of semen-missiles into the face of Erika Weiss,
splattering her eyes, nose, and lips. "There's some Manchu lobster-sauce for
you, golden cunt!" he muttered as swabbed a thick gob of his man-juice from just
under her left eye and wiped it on her tongue.
"AAAAGHHH!!!" Erika's cry startled the sadistic sextet. It was only then
that they noticed that old Dr Wang had removed the chopsticks from her oily
slit, and drenched them in the other container he had brought from the
sideboard. It was only when George Chan stepped a little closer that he could
see the contents of the cruet -- chili oil, prepared from the most intensely hot
Szechuan chiles. A few drops on a serving of food was enough to pleasantly
inflame the palate; he could not imagine the burning and itching that would
result from applying the oil directly to delicate tissues.
And Dr Wang had chosen the most delicate tissues of all; six sticks, had
been immersed to their midpoint in the reddish-gold concoction, and one by one
he had begun inserting them into Erika's puckering anal rosebud. Not so hard or
so far that they would damage the tissue, but more than hard enough and more
than far enough to set her rear passage aflame.
"In this case," the old men pointed out softly, "it is not the Dragon, but
the Tigress who will breathe fire." The old man smiled grimly, remembering
Erika's mocking stare earlier in the evening. " But from the wrong end," he
added, as he screwed the fiery sticks in a little deeper.
The company laughed at the old man's jest, and delighted in the salacious
pelvic wriggles of the girl; but not even Erika's most shameless writhings
could do anything to quench the flames that burned deep within her.
And so the ordeal had continued long into the night. The missionary's
daughter had been compelled to make another tour of the room, kowtowing
perversely to each of her six tormentors. In between the most agonizing
moments it struck her that she was kneeling and worshiping the lusty organs of
each of her tormentors in turn as if she were observing some diabolical pagan
equivalent to the Stations of the Cross. Not a minute went by without new blows
to the backs of her thighs and her rounded buttocks, delivered by whatever men
were across the table from the whomever happened to be receiving her oral
caresses. Not a minute went by without the fiery precipitation of fresh waxy
drippings falling on her tortured body. Leaving scores of tiny burns protected
only by the minute globules of cream-colored wax that covered them. Wax spots
that the weapon-wielders delighted in attacking. Every few minutes, a pair of
the six rectal sticks was removed from her bottomhole and anointed with a fresh
dose of the fiery nectar of the Szechuan chilis.
When she had completed the circuit, she could not have said whose cock had
been the worst. Had it been the rapacious organ of General Chang or the choking
maleness of Hsi Fong? The long needle-dick of Sang Chu-ming, that had scraped
the back of her throat, or the thick and bulbous manhood of the sublimely ugly
Lu Chow. The ancient Dr Wang had taken the longest to satisy -- it had taken
her over half an hour to bring him to erection and another half hour to induce a
feeble eruption. An endless hour during which his nephew and the sycophantic
Sang had taken turns in administering countless vicious blows to her rounded
buttocks, even as Councillor Fong had manipulated the chili-sticks protruding
from her tight, tortured rectum.
But it had perhaps been her encounter with Cheng that had proved most
humiliating. Had it not been only an hour or two earlier that she had seen a
spark of humanity in his young eyes? But the night, and the company, had
corrupted him, and by the time she was face to face with him again, he was as
heartless as the rest. He forced her head down onto his throbbing member, and
then, with a cruelty unusual in one so young, he directed her to keep her
derriere high in the air -- so that it might prove a more tempting target for
the men across from him who were wielding the the terrible spoons. Meanwhile,
the man on his right, General Wang, first twisted her left nipple into a most
tempting rigidity, and then trapped it between the lengths of a pair of
chopsticks, crushing her pink love bud with brutal force and implacable cruelty.
Cheng's youthful excitement, coupled with his inexperience, had manifested
itself quickly, however. His handsome young cock had been in her mouth for only
two or three minutes when she began to feel his body shaking. "EAHHHH" he had
cried in ecstasy, a moment before he began to fill her degraded mouth with the
vile taste of his cock-juice.
********************
At the sound of footsteps outside George Chan's mind returned to the
present.
Where WAS Ming-tsu? By now she should surely have gleaned some
information about the young lieutenant of the Black Scorpions. But despite his
interest in that issue, business was decidely at the back of his mind at this
moment. The recollection of the events of the banquet had aroused him and it
had been weeks since he had been with his most accomplished lover. He had known
hundreds of women in his life, but her erotic inventiveness was second to none.
He rose again from his desk and strode to the window, peering out at the
long winding walkway that led to his palatial home. The sky was a gloomy gray,
to match his mood, and raindrops were beginning to splash against the window.
About ten minutes later he heard footsteps on the walkway outside of his
office. He moved toward the window once again, and was gratified to see
Ming-tsu, encased in a long raincoat, making her way through what was now a
downpour.
With her hard-won information about her lover, Li Chang, the newest
lieutenant of the Black Scorpions.
