Chapter 28 Feng the Butcher and the Barbarian Princess
Chapter 28 Feng the Butcher and the Barbarian Princess
Feng accepted the whip from Ming-tsu and bowed in return. This night
promised to be most gratifying; as chief enforcer for the Chan gang, he was kept
occupied most of the time beating up businessmen and artisans who (at first)
refused to pay "protection" money to the Black Scorpions. It had been some time
since Feng 'The Butcher", as he had come to be known to the Black Scorpions, had
had a beautiful young girl to break...
*******************************************************
Feng had grown up in a remote mountainous region of western China where two
rival clans had been fighting for supremacy for generations. Their warfare was
utterly barbaric, and spared neither women nor children.
One morning, when he was but a lad of eleven, a war party from the enemy
clan surprised and overran a small encampment of Feng's nomadic people. In a
brief bloody skirmish the raiding party slaughtered all of the men in the camp,
saving Feng's father, the head of the clan, for last. As a warning to other
rival clans, they had bound his father to a pair of wild horses and torn him
limb from limb. But his death, though horrible, was at least swift.
The young women of Feng's village were not so lucky.
Feng, like some of the other young boys, had been forced to watch while
his mother and his recently-betrothed older sister had been raped by waves of
enemy warriors. His frail mother had succumbed after only a few hours of their
bestial assault, but on the second morning of her captivity his beautiful
sister, Anya, knowing that she was doomed, had had the temerity to rake her
nails across the eyes of the ferocious-looking man who was raping her.
Unfortunately for her, that man turned out to be none other than Dargon the
Invincible, the enemy warlord himself, who was known for his savagery from the
towering peaks of the Himalayas to the snow-capped summits of the Tien Shan.
For this unpardonable crime, and inspired by the delicious ripeness of her
figure, the cruel tyrant sentenced the comely young maiden to suffer first, the
Torment of the Helix, and then the Devil's Swing.
At noon of that day, Dargon's soldiers had all assembled in front of the
castle walls to enjoy the afternoon's 'entertainment'.
Dargon's tall, sultry, dark-haired daughter, Princess Dena, about
fifteen then, had laughingly directed one of the enemy soldiers to tie Feng to a
tree so that he might watch his sister's punishment from afar. Feng had
watched in stomach-wrenching dismay as the executioners had stripped Anya's
tattered dress away from her lovely body. Then while the shorter of the two
held her arms pinned behind her, the taller one seemed to punch one of Anya's
breasts.
Feng, watching through a haze of tears and horror from a great distance,
imagined that he had seen a brief spurt of scarlet. A moment later the tall
guard held her while the short one made a similar motion toward Anya's other
breast. And again, Feng, half hysterical with grief, thought he had seen a
second spurt of blood. Meanwhile the taller executioner was still holding her
arms behind her while the other one began to loop heavy, knotted cords tightly
around each of his sister's opulent breasts, buttressing their harness with two
wraps around her chest.
Once the soldiers were satisfied that her tit-ropes were secure, they
flung the pair of rope-ends up over a sturdy cantilever-like bar that extended
outward from the crenelated battlement.
Even from his remote vantage point, Feng could hear how Anya had screamed
in agony as the two burly guards retrieved the rope ends and then pulled
mightily at the breast cords and lifted her slowly, inch by agonizing inch,
several feet above mother earth, until the weight of her body was supported only
the the hempen harness that ringed her tortured breasts. The guards then
secured the supporting ropes to stout iron bars in a window of the warlord's
fortress, leaving the lovely maiden dangling naked, kicking helplessly under the
hot mid-summer's sun.
Every now and then one of the soldiers would give her body a push, gentle
ones at first that set her body swaying lightly in the breeze, and then harder
and harder shoves that redoubled the agonizing pressure on her tight-corded
breasts.
This, then, was the infamous Devil's Swing.
They let Anya hang by her breasts for another quarter of an hour, heedless
of her desperate pleas for mercy, before at last cutting her down.
When at last she was released from the Devil's Swing, she was sent back to
the soldiers' quarters to see if she had learned her lesson, and was ready to be
a docile barracks-whore.
Later that same night, after another endless bout of savage lust, when most
of the soldiers had drunk themselves into a stupor, Anya, more dead than alive,
had crept soundlessly out of the barracks, climbed to the top of the castle wall
and thrown herself to her death.
******
Feng, then but a boy of eleven, was spared from death , along with a few
others of his own age -- if a lifetime of slavery and sixteen hour days toiling
in the fields of his captors could be considered being spared.
But Feng endured, somehow, and the memory of his family's fate was etched
in his heart forever. Several years later, he escaped from his servitude and
joined the few surviving men of his clan. Their women all dead or enslaved,
the men lived like animals in the barren mountains high above the plateau on
which stood the citadel of their enemies. They survived by eating roots and
berries, and occasionally trapping or killing some small game. Every now and
then, Feng and his companions would waylay a traveler unwise enough to venture
into the rugged mountains in which they scratched out a meager existence.
Early one afternoon, some months after Feng, a natural leader, had joined
them, five of the mountain men spotted four horsemen, dressed in the royal blue
cloaks of the rival clan, riding up a trail into the foothills. One of Feng's
cousins let himself be seen and decoyed the three horsemen into a narrow pass,
where his comrades were well-positioned to pick off the interlopers with arrows
shot from higher ground. Within seconds three of the horsemen had falled
victim to the skilled archery of the mountain men.
When a sudden gust of wind swept up the canyon and threw the hood off the
head of the fourth rider, Feng noticed with astonishment that that
purple-cloaked"horseman" was none other than Dena, the daughter of Dargon, now
in her early twenties.
Yelling to his comrades not to shoot her, Feng began the steep descent to
the canyon floor. Dena, meanwhile, had continued further into the pass, while
her injured and besieged companions tried to make a desperate stand against
their savage enemies. While Feng's kinsmen made their way down to finish off
the three downed horsemen, Feng set off in pursuit of the dark-haired princess.
As Dena fled for her life she soon found that the "pass" quickly narrowed
to a treacherous precipice along a steep ridge, with a sheer rock face
stretching high above her, and a vertiginous abyss below. Dena dismounted from
her horse, and stripped off her confining cloak, revealing a shapely and
athletic body clad in a white tunic and white skirt, embroidered with pale blue
flowers, that reached only to mid-thigh.
The pass above the Gorge of Hell, as the mountain people referred to it,
being much too narrow for her horse to negotiate, she abandoned her steed, and
inched her way forward, above the fearful chasm, ever conscious that at least
one of the men who had been lying in wait was in hot pursuit. But the ledge was
so narrow, and the concentration required to traverse it so demanding, that it
was all but impossible to turn around and look back at her pursuer.
Feng was halfway across the narrow ledge when Dena reached the far side of
the canyon, where the sheer rock wall above her gave way to a series of rugged
rocky hills dotted with huge outcroppings of gray rock that had been formed by
some primeval cataclysm of the earth's crust.
She was young, and strong, and fleet, and she set off into the hills,
struggling to maintain her footing in the difficult terrain. Properly fearful
of her fate should she be captured, she ran and climbed, and climbed and ran
until she thought her lungs would burst.
Feng, more accustomed to the steep hillsides, slowly made up ground on
her, confident that a pampered princess could not long elude him. He enjoyed
playing this game of cat and mouse; when she slowed he slowed slightly too.
But after an hour or so, he tired of the game, made up the remaining distance
between them, and tackled the utterly exhausted young woman from behind. "My
revenge will be most sweet, woman," he whispered to the terrified beauty, as he
twisted her arm savagely behind her, "but let me wait for my friends to rejoin
us. They will be angry with me if I do not let them share in the spoils of
war."
"Let me go, you treasonous scum, or my father will feed you your balls for
breakfast when he gets his hands on you!"
"You are brave now, whore- princess; but let us see how brave you will be
in a few hours," Feng grunted as he reached beneath Dena's tunic, and cupped her
splendid breasts in his toil-roughened hands. He had never touched a woman this
way before; the softness and the warmth of her stiff-nippled tits made his
ardent young cock throb with pleasure and his swollen testicles tighten with
anticipation.
When his kinsmen caught up with him, they pulled the dark-haired, dark-eyed
daughter of the enemy warlord roughly to her feet, and ruthlessly stripped off
her tunic, her skirt, and a flimsy undergarment, revealing a body more
voluptuous than they could have dreamed. At fifteen, when Feng had first seen
her, she had been tall but willowy; but in the intervening years she had
blossomed into a voluptuous young amazon.
The warm rays of the mountain sun had been kind to the skin of the sultry
princess; her body was a vision of pale gold loveliness. In the thin mountain
air, Feng and his companions stared disbelievingly at their prize -- at her
lush, full-nippled breasts, which despite their majestic size rose high and
proud from her chest. At her long athletic legs and at a pair of well-rounded
buttocks that seemed to have been born for the lash. At her deep-notched navel,
narrow waist, and dark-tufted pussy that set five cocks to throbbing.
Ten malevolent eyes devoured her luscious body; and ten malicious hands
groped her roughly, fondling her pleasure-globes, pinching and twisting the
mahogany buds of her uptilted breasts, and probing insistently between her legs
as she squirmed in revulsion.
"You will die for this, you pigs," Dena hissed at them. "And die slowly!"
With a swift motion, Feng slapped the nude ripeness of her left breast
viciously, causing it to bobble sensuously on her chest for an exciting moment
before coming to rest, now wearing a garish red mark left by his powerful blow.
"No, princess. It is you who will die. Or rather," he snarled, before greeting
her mouthwatering melons with the thick-knuckled back of his hand, "you who will
wish to die!"
Dena swallowed the blinding pain with difficulty and glared at Feng
defiantly, her spectacular breasts heaving as she tried to regain her breath.
She was the daughter of Dargon the Invincible; she would not cower before these
churlish savages.
The men eagerly moved forward to continue Feng's assault on their prisoner,
but were surprised when Feng stopped them. " That's enough!" he bellowed
authoritatively. "For now. Do not forget, my brothers, that there are others
at the camp who have scores to settle, too."
A short time later, after a few minutes of disappointed male grumbling,
the naked young princess began her long, arduous trek to the camp of her
captors. Surrounded by her leering captors she was compelled to take a long
circuitous route back to the entrance of the Gorge of Hell so that the mountain
men could recover her warriors' horses. Even at their high elevation the sun
beat down unmercifully on her; within ten minutes, as she struggled up the steep
inclines, her luscious body was covered with a thin film of sweat.
They had progressed about a mile through the treacherous terrain, when the
tallest of the five spied a young deer nibbling at a green-leafed shrub.
Signally to the others to be quiet, Jadar quickly strung his bow and launched
an arrow cross the hillside. The missile caught the young deer in squarely in
the throat, and the mountain men made their way to their fallen quarry, which
would be their evening meal. Chen, the strongest of the bandits began to hoist
the deer's bleeding carcass over his shoulder, but Feng stopped him.
"No," he said sternly. "Our princess will carry it."
Laughing the men agreed, and draped the dying animal over Dena's broad
shoulders; she slumped when they added the weight; the deer weighed as much as a
nine-year old child.
"March, princess-whore! We can be back at the camp in three hours if you
don't dawdle."
Balancing the deer's weight across her shoulders, Dena began to climb the
next hillside. The hillsides had been steep before her burden had been added;
now her thigh and calf muscles ached at every painful step.
To compound her misery, two of Feng's comrades paused at a woody thicket
and cut thorn-bearing switches, that were about the length of a man's arm, from
a prickly wooden bush. They fell some distance behind the the others while they
used a knife to shave six or eight inches of the prickly barbs from the thicker
end of the thorn-switch, so as to provide a handle. Then they quickly ran after
their companions, catching up with them at the apex of a wind-swept hill.
Now that they were able to grip the thumb-thick thorn-sticks comfortably,
the two of them took turns using the prickly flails to lash the back of Dena's
smooth, well-toned thighs and her ripe round buttocks as she struggled painfully
down the hill. As often as not the the razor-sharp spines lodged themselves in
her tender flesh, and then broke off when her tormentors tried to pull the
thorn-switches back again.
Within a few miles of her exhausting journey through a series of steep
ravines, Dena's lungs were burning for lack of oxygen in the thin mountain air,
and her well-curved legs were screaming with fatigue. A little later Feng's men
recovered the enemy horses, which were a great prize to the dispossessed
bandits. Then Feng himself tied Dena's hands to the saddle of her mount and
led her back through the pass where the ambush had taken place. The beautiful
princess turned pale when she came upon three bloody headless bodies sprawled on
the trail. A little further on, her blood ran cold when she spied three
gruesome, lifeless heads positioned among a series of boulders. Dena shuddered
in terror, and wondered if there was any violence of which her captors were not
capable.
She grew even more apprehensive when one of the bandits, a barrel-chested,
black-bearded young man retrieved the horse-whip she had dropped when she had
fled the scene of the ambush.
While the afternoon sun broiled her bare flesh, and her heart pounded from
the stress of her exertions, Princess Dena continued to suffer the bite of the
stinging thorn-sticks as her tormentors inflicted scores of tiny cuts on her
long legs and her round-buttocked ass. And still she was compelled to stagger
forward beneath the oppressive weight of the dear.
A little further on, curly-haired Meldor, one of the thorn-switch
wielders and the youngest of the five men, slipped past her and climbed up on a
rock that she would have to pass as she trudged toward her unknown fate. When
she drew alongside, he yelled excitedly, "Genghis Khan himself would want to see
these tits bounce!" and, taking careful aim, he lifted the thorn-switch high
over his head and then whipped it downward across the upper slopes of Dena's
luscious breasts.
And bounce they did, most satisfyingly so, on her slim-waisted torso.
"AAAAGHHH!" the sultry princess had cried out - her first true admission
of the extent of the pain being meted out by her captors.
It would not be her last.
"Well struck, Meldor!" Feng's comrades encouraged the youngster, and for
the rest of the interminable march, the boy walked in front of Dena, pausing
every fifty feet or so to turn around and switch Dena's gently curved belly, her
straining thighs or her succulent brown-tipped lust-globes with the cruel
thorn-stick. Meanwhile, the deer's neck wound continued to ooze blood in a thin
stream over her collarbone and down across her deliciously ripe left breast,
leaving a bright crimson stain in its wake.
Up and down the hillsides they marched her, the deer's weight now a
crushing burden. Three times her legs gave out under the broiling sun and three
times, at Feng's signal, Xorg, the black-bearded man with the horse-whip lashed
her back until she struggled desperately to her feet. As soon as she regained
her feet, her young nemesis, Meldor, was there in front of her again, drawing a
bead on her sculpted breasts, and then flicking them with the thorn-switch,
until she began to trudge slowly forward yet again.
By the time they reached their fateful destination, Dena's body, front and
back, was criss-crossed with a plethora of thin lacerations. Mercifully she was
allowed to drop the deer, before falling to her knees in exhaustion.
The bandits' camp was as unprepossessing a habitation as one could
imagine -- little more than a clearing in front of a cluster of caves whose dark
entrances were covered with bearskins.
Dena knelt naked on the ground trying to recovering her strength as she
watched two of the men butcher the deer, skinning it, dressing it, hacking it
into manageable pieces with their dull knives; they were about half done when
Feng ordered "Take her to the river, and clean her up!"
Gratefully Dena let herself be dragged some fifty yards to the other side
of the clearing where a fast-moving mountain stream rushed passed them on its
downward course to the valley floor. Jadar, the tall slender one, and Chen,
Feng's muscular kinsman, watched with unabashed lust as Dena splashed the cold
mountain water over her stunning body, trying to clean her numerous cuts.
Chen elbowed Jadar as they watched her dig the spiny thorn-barbs out of her
breasts, and belly. She was going to provide good sport.
Princess Dena finished her primitive toilette at about the same time as the
deer-butchers finished their work; when she returned to face Feng, great hunks
of venison were roasting on a rustic fire-pit.
The interlude, the beautiful princess quickly noted, had done nothing to
improve Feng's temper.
The well-built young leader of the mountain men called out, "Tie her to the
tree!" and his kinsmen dragged the still-dripping statuesque princess to the
left side of the clearing and threw her roughly against the scaly bark of a
tree-trunk. Despite a desperate resistance, during which she succeeded in
scratching one captor and kicking another, Feng's four companions soon had her
arms pulled back behind the tree and her wrists bound tightly together. A second
length of rawhide that dug deeply into her supple thighflesh, cinched her legs
to the tree, while a third held her slender waist fast against the trunk.
The beautiful barbarian princess glared at her captors, her succulent
breasts heaving from her struggles to escape, her nipples dark, proud, defiant.
Despite her plight, Dena was too proud to beg for mercy; she knew full well
that even if she had, her entreaties would have been in vain. Her captors were
in thrall to a bloodlust that would render them deaf to her pleas.
Feng's cousin Chen led the way. Chen, a big brute of a man, well
remembered how a dozen members of Dena's clan had raped his attractive young
mother while Dena had cheered them on. He had prayed to the cruel gods of the
mountains that the day might come when he could avenge his mother's ravishment.
And now that long-awaited day was at hand.
Chen strode toward Dena with a determined look on his beefy face, as he
uncurled two long thin strips of tough brown yak leather in his big hands. He
began by encircling one of Dena's superb breasts with the thin cord . He looped
one strip tightly around the base of her right breast; then, while Feng gripped
her nipple tightly between the jagged nails of his thumb and forefinger and
pulled her breast out from the chest wall, Chen pulled with all of his
considerable strength on each end of the leather to ensure that the rawhide bit
as cruelly as possible into Dena's soft, ivory-gold breast flesh. Once that
first circlet had been jerked excruciatingly tight, Chen wrapped a second
breast-choking loop around the big lust-melon, and yanked it tight again.
"Tighter, Chen! Tighter!" roared Xorg, Feng's black-bearded kinsman. It
was he who had chopped off the heads of Dena's companions, and he who had
found and wielded the horsewhip. Xorg had once been a rotund, good-natured
young man known for his joviality. Until, that is, he had seen his demure young
bride ripped apart by the stallion Dena had trained to rape slave-girls. Like
most of the other surviving men and boys of his clan, he had escaped during a
brushfire that had swept through Dargon's domains. His jailors, in their haste
to flee the fast approaching fire, had left the outer door to the building in
which the male slaves were imprisoned nightly unlocked. The once-jovial Xorg
had rarely been known to smile since. But he was smiling with undisguised
sadistic pleasure now, as he watched Chen work on Dena's swollen tits.
Twice more Chen wrapped the diabolical leather bands around the soft
breast-flesh, and twice more he yanked the ends tight with a mighty grunt. By
now Dena's right breast was compressed into a blushing bloated sphere of
tit-flesh that seemed to young Feng to be begging for even harsher treatment. At
some point in the process, Chen had cleverly wedged a short, thick stick under
the tit-gripping leather bands. His work on this breast complete, Chen seized
the breast-stick in a powerful hand, and twisted, doubling the pressure on
Dena's poor pleasure-globes.
Feng then seized her other nipple-nugget between his talon-like nails,
while his kinsman took the second strip of rawhide and garrotted Dena's left
breast with a similar painful bondage. Both of the sultry princess's jutting
jugs were now thrust provocatively outward, Feng noticed with satisfaction.
Perfect targets for further abuse. Feng approached her and grasped the
breast-sticks and gave them a mighty wrench.
"AAAAAUUGHHHHH!!" Dena screamed in agony; it felt as if the bandit leader
was going to twist her strangled breasts right off her body.
The scorching late-afternoon sun had dried the cool droplets of the
mountain stream that had enclosed her body in a fresh dew just minutes earlier.
Feng twisted the tit-sticks again, and Dena, in her pain, could feel beads of
sweat racing teardrops down her cheeks and then falling softly downward onto her
throbbing breasts.
Dena could do little but look on with fearful dread as the barbaric band
eagerly set about selecting and fashioning weapons to use on the bulging
tit-globes of their splendidly endowed sex-slave. Chen removed a long leather
strap from his kit, young Meldor used his sharp knife to smooth an eight-inch
grip on a freshly-cut thorn-switch, and Feng chopped himself a yard-long stalk
of sturdy bamboo.
Xorg, his long black hair and beard wild about his face, produced the
light horsewhip he had found at the scene of the ambush and brought back to the
camp. It seemed only fitting that he use the whip of the horse that had ravaged
his mother on the bold-nippled breasts of the the captive princess.
The fifth member of the band, Jadar, who as a youth had seen his father
castrated and his bleeding organ stuffed into his mother's mouth while Dargon's
lackeys assaulted her, was laboriously lashing several small pieces of split
bamboo together with sturdy withes, forming a makeshift rectangular paddle,
studded with the raised ridges typical of mountain bamboo.
Chen had doubled up the strap in his powerful right hand, and was just
about to launch a first volley at Dena's succulent, sweat-glazed lust melons,
when Feng held up his hand again.
"Wait, cousin. Where are Kandar and the Old One?" Feng asked. Usually at
this hour of the day the other two men of his band were to be found at the main
cave. "Chen, while we await the others, prepare the princess's nipples for
punishment!"
"Aye, Feng,' Chen grinned. "That I will." Feng's brawny kinsman wasted no
time in devoting his attention to Dena's magnificent breast-buds, pinching and
kneading, twisting and flicking the marvelous corky nubs until they stood out
from Dena's swollen breasts like a pair of dark, fleshy bullets. Chen concluded
his enviable assignment by digging a thumbnail into one of the thin lacerations
opened by Meldor's thorn switch, and then rubbing the resulting scarlet droplet
into Dena's delectable brown breast buds, infusing the inviting brown crests,
with a dash of scarlet. Dena could only watch in dismay as her tasty love-buds
stood rigidly at attention for their coming punishment, having been christened
with her own crimson war-paint, and thus becoming even bolder, brighter targets
than they had been before.
"I see the others! Here they come!" announced the lanky Jadar.
The others looked up to see a pair of pitiful examples of manhood emerging
from a trail on the far side of the clearing.
The Old One, Talmaz, hobbled along, his weight supported by a knobby
walking stick. Though he appeared to be four score and more, he was actually not
much more than sixty years of age. But watching a company of Dena's father's
men defile his nubile grand-daughters had sapped twenty years from his strength.
The other figure who made their way toward them from the other side of the
clearing was even more grotesque. Kandar, a once-vigorous young man of
twenty-eight, had no arms. Or rather, his arms had been cut off a couple of
inches above the wrist -- his right arm as a punishment for poaching the deer of
Dargon the Invincible, his left arm for refusing to reveal his companions in
that thievery, the desperate thievery of starving men.
"Welcome, my brothers," Feng had trumpeted. "Chen -- Now that our friends
are here to take part in our rightful vengeance -- you may begin."
And with that command, Feng's desperate band, who had all been without a
woman for years, set about avenging their womenfolk and their own years of
privation.
The muscular Chen began the frenzied assault on Dena's bulging tit-globes.
He took his leather strap and burned an inch-wide strip of pain into the
constricted melons, leaving a reddening rectangle in his wake. Meldor, gripping
his thorn-switch with all of his strength, took dead aim and ripped into both of
Dena's swollen breasts, drawing an anguished scream of pain from the swarthy
princess, and a single drop of claret just below her left nipple.
Dena, gasping for breath, closed her eyes as she saw Jadar approaching.
She could not bear to watch as he continued the onslaught by crushing Dina's
left pleasure-globe with a short compact swing of his paddle.
Bushy-bearded Xorg, meanwhile, had taken a position slightly to the right
of the dark-haired beauty and as soon as Jadar stepped back, he horse-whipped
Dena across the upper rim of her sweet-crinkled areolae, as the dark-eyed beauty
writhed in agony.
Feng made good use of his first turn, beginning by tapping his bamboo rod
lightly against Dena's blood-engorged nipple-crests. He was fascinated by the
way her tit-choking breast bondage forced the shadowy rivulets of her breast
veins to swell and pulse as if they had a life of their own.
Despite her resolution to defy the mountain scum, Dena's courage failed her
as Feng poked her juicy breasts with cane in preparation for what would no doubt
prove to be a horrendous blow.
"Please ... Don't ... I beg y...."
Feng cut short Dena's abject plea for mercy by tightening his steely grip
on the whippy cane and then slamming it dead on into Dena's succulent melons
with titanic, tit-splitting ferocity, just below her gallant nipple-nuggets.
The cruel blow opened Meldor's thorn-cut a little wider.
"AEEEAIIGHHH!!" the tormented princess's anguished cry seemed to
reverberate off the walls of the nearby caves.
"Old One -- join us!" Feng beckoned. Talmaz slowly dragged himself
forward. He leaned against the tree to which Dena had been bound and then
picked up his walking stick and slid it up into the delightful valley between
Dena's luscious, close-set breasts, now flecked with beads of crimson. He slid
it roughly back and forth for a moment or two before speaking. "This, whore,
is for my grand-daughters," he squeaked in a high-pitched voice before lifting
the knobby stick over his head and slamming it down into her bound breasts with
suprising strength for a man with such a decrepit body.
"Ooooouuuwwww!" Dena moaned forlornly. She shook her head back and forth.
"No...please...no more."
And then she looked up to see the muscular figure of Chen standing
alongside the old man, his biceps bulging, the veins in his neck standing out,
as he doubled up the leather strap, and made it POP! in the air.
"Move aside old man; let a strong young buck show you how it's done!"
"Make her sing, Chen!" exhorted Meldor, anxious to prove that he fit in
with the older men. "Work those tits over good!"
Chen had drawn the strap back and was ready to pull the trigger again when
a deep voice called out, "What about me?"
The company turned to look at Kandar, the man with no arms.
"But how?" Chen stammered. "How can you ..." he left the thought
unfinished.
Undismayed, Kandar stepped forward; Feng noted that his back and shoulders
were strong. The gods had been cruel to let him live. After his maiming, one
stump had been cauterized successfully by Dargon's men; but what was left of his
left arm was a suppurating gangrenous mess, discolored a hideous greenish-black
all the way up to his shoulder. The spread of the disease was such, thought
Feng, that Kandar could not possibly have long to live. But a vengeful fire
still burned bright in Kandar's eyes as he approached their full-breasted
prisoner, intent on inflicting a hellish retribution for his own suffering.
When he was close enough he reached out and fondled Dena's tightly bound
tit-globes with his festering left stump, letting his appalling limb slide back
and forth over her luscious mounds, while she squirmed in revulsion. And then
with a sudden violent movement, Kandar's powerful right shoulder shot forward
and his good stump drove into Dena's left breast with crushing force.
"AAAUGGHHHH!!" she screamed.
Dena had no sooner recovered from that brutal blow when Chen stood before
her again. This time he took the sinister strap down low and brought it rushing
upward at the speed of lightning to explode against the taut undersides of
Dena's throbbing tit-goblets. "EAIAAAAHH!!" she screamed in pain.
Meldor's thorn-stick revisited her luscious turrets next, opening up a few
more tiny crimson-oozing cuts, and then, before Dena even had time to scream,
Xorg, with a long flowing overhand stroke, brought the horse-whip CRACKK!!ING
down sharply across the upper slopes of Dena's sumptuous love-gourds again.
"AIEEEEAAAAGGHHHH!!!" Dena's prolonged cry of suffering pierced the stillness of
the mountain air.
Dena looked around her wildly, half-crazed with pain. She felt as if her
breasts were immersed in molten lava. "Enough... please... let me go...
WHAACKK!!! "EEYAAAHHH!!!
Long-limbed Jadar had used his improvised paddle on her right breast with
such force that he seemed to drive her tortured nipple-bud deep into her breast
flesh. Feng watched with awed astonishment as the injured crest sprang back
with a youthful resilience remarkable to behold.
Old Talmaz smacked her strangled tit-globes again, with less strenth this
time, and then the man without a weapon stood before the beautiful princess once
again.
Kaldar spat in Dena's face, chuckling as the gob of saliva ran down a
tear-stained cheek. Then without warning, the man with no arms suddenly drove a
mighty knee into the soft place between Dena's legs, as she howled in pain.
Then, using his festering arm to hold her chin up, Kandar used his stump to
smash her tightly-tied right tit with pulverizing force, the end of his bony
stump leaving a nasty imprint on her flesh. And then he drove his knobby stump
solidly into the bulging tautness of Dena's other breast. Then he stepped back,
exultant at the princess's suffering. It occurred to Feng that there must be
something primevally satisfying about exacting revenge with one's own bare
hands. Especially for one who had no hands.
One after another, Feng and his kinsmen attacked the taut balloons of
breastflesh. Sometimes hacking at the undersides with slashing horizontal
strokes, sometimes taking the weapon of choice high over head and crashing it
down on the tops of Dena's proud-surging lust-melons, and sometimes taking dead
aim on her provocatively pebbly brown areoles and her blood-reddened nipples.
And when it was his turn, the man with no weapon continued to use his grotesque
stump as if it were a bare-knuckled fist, pounding it furiously into Dena's
tightly bound tits.
It wasn't long before the ear-splitting screams of the barbarian princess
were nearly as inhuman as the savagery of her attackers, to whom her screams
were the sweetest of music. Her animal-like cries of agony rent the cool
mountain air, but there were none to hear her, save for her tormentors, and they
were as deaf to her pleas as the great gray boulders that lined the trail to the
camp.
Before too many minutes had passed, Dena's tight-cinched pain-globes had
endured a withering array of ferocious blows; Feng and his comrades had
transformed the ivory-gold mounds of an hour earlier into two bulging,
throbbing, pain-wracked globes of martyred breastflesh.
Anxious for new pleasures, Feng's comrades men untied the rope that
pinioned Dena to the tree-trunk and stripped the bindings from her breasts. The
seven men marveled at how her splendid breasts, though dark-ringed and reddened,
gashed and slashed, quickly re-assumed their natural shape, having lost none of
their smooth-skinned resiliency, their dark-nippled beauty or their
gravity-defying firmness during her horrific ordeal.
As the blood flowed back into Dena's tortured mounds, every nerve ending in
her young breasts gave out a silent scream of agony. The barbarian princess had
little time to dwell on that pain however, because moments later, Xorg and Jadar
dragged her across the clearing and threw her voluptuous body face up across a
rough slab of granite. They held her down while Meldor and Chen used a heavy
rock to drive four pointed wooden stakes into the ground; moments later they had
used the leather strips to spread-eagle their lovely captive, leaving the entire
front of her body exposed and vulnerable.
"Look at that juicy cunt, boy," Chen teased young Meldor. "Your first
one?"
"Aye, cousin, that it is," Meldor replied as he stuck his face between
Dena's wide-spread legs the better to study the inviting lips that drew his dark
eyes to her womanhood like a moth to a flame. And a lovely cunt it is, even if
I've only seen the one!"
"Step aside, boy, and watch an expert!" The burly Chen opened his ragged
trousers, removed a thickish cock, and without any preliminaries, rammed it
viciously into Dena's dry cunt. Facing him, Jadar crouched over Dena's face and
inserted his own massive erection into her mouth. Feng warned her to suck his
men well, and that if she even thought about using her bright white teeth on his
mouth-raping comrades, she wouldn't have them long.
For over an hour the arduous double-fucking assault continued, until each
of the original five had ravaged both of her warm receptacles -- pussy and
mouth. When it came his turn, Talmaz, his days of fornicating long past, seemed
content to lean against the rock while he forced his thick, knobby walking stick
into Dena's semen-coated vagina.
After old Talmaz had worked his cudgel around inside Dena's pink passageway
her for a few minutes, Kandar brushed him aside, and mounted the slut-princess,
pumping into her with the feverish abandon of a man who knows his days are
numbered.
When Kandar pulled his dripping cock out of the tortured princess, Feng
lifted his hand to allow the girl a little time to recover her strength. He
didn't want their luscious victim to lapse into unconsciousness before he had
had a chance to deliver the coup de grace.
******
For the next hour or so the men tore into nicely-seared chunks of deer
meat, washing the hunter's meal down with mountain wine that they passed around
in a goatskin bag. As they ate and drank they laughed and joked, commenting
crudely on the thrill of plundering the wondrous body of the spread-eagled
princess, who was still draped painfully over the jagged slab of rock. Her
pathetic pleas for water went unheeded.
As darkness approached, Feng directed his companions to release her from
the stakes and throw her over a nearby boulder, leaving her sprawled face down,
and her ample buttock rounds high in the air. Her bottom had remained fairly
unscathed up to this point, save for the stinging cuts of the thorn-stick on the
long trek back to the encampment.
"By the saber of Tamerlane, her ass is built for a flogging, is it not?"
Chen asked nobody in particular.
Three deep voices, edged with lust, anwered, "Aye" almost simultaneously.
"If you can lie there and take your beating, perhaps we will not have to
tie you up again, slut-princess," Feng told her.
"Please ... " Dena sobbed, " have you not done enough... let me go. I will
tell no one of what you have done, or where you camp. Ple..."
Dena's tearful entreaties were answered with a vicious CRAACKK!! from
Xorg's long, black horsewhip. "Aarrghhhhh!"
"We will grant you the same mercy you extended to our mothers, our
daughters, our sisters, slut princess. Jadar!"
"Aye, Feng!"
"Warm her ass with that paddle of yours!"
Jadar stepped forward with alacrity and slammed his rugged paddle first
into Dena's left cheek, and then her right. Back and forth he went, between the
two ripe, rounded buttcheeks using his long arm to deliver sweeping, punishing
strokes. Four and twenty times he smote each bottom oval, as Dena's intermittent
cries of pain mounted into a steady wail of agony. When Jadar was done, he was
breathing hard and sweating profusely; and Dena's bottomglobes were as red as
September apples.
Then Meldor stood to one side of her and Feng the other as they peppered
Dena's encrimsoned buttock-mounds with alternating strokes from their respective
weapons. The curly-haired lad still wielded his favorite thorn-switch, while
Feng delivering one concussive stroke after another with his trusty bamboo cane,
working his way slowly from the base of her bottomcheeks up to the top of her
buttcrack and then back again.
When Feng's arm grew weary, Chen stepped forth and used his menacing black
strap on Dena's golden thighs until they were as rosy a red as her bottom. When
he was done, Xorg stepped forward to deliver twenty savage lashes up and down
her back, buttocks and legs with the horsewhip which ironically had been Dena's
only hours before.
And then, without warning, their weapons dropped, the men were on her
again. Four of them seized a limb, as strong arms yanked her legs painfully
wide apart.
"Look at that tight little asshole!" Jadar, who was manning her right leg,
exclaimed.
"It won't be tight after I get through with it," Chen observed salaciously,
as he stroked his thick powerful member with one hand while he held one of her
arms pinned down with the other.
Moments later Feng strode forward, reached into his dusty trousers and
brought his massive weapon up to the tiny rosebud between Dena's ripe,
deep-clefted buttocks and without further ado, rammed it into her anus.
Dena groaned in anguish, not only because of her bottom pain but also
because Feng' thrusts scraped her tender breasts against the rough surface of
the rock over which she was draped.
At first her sphincter resisted, but each violent thrust served to impale
her more and more deeply on his phallus. He pounded away furiously, reveling in
the spasmodic clutching of her muscular nether passage, until his swollen balls
were pounding against her buttcheeks with every plunge.
"Unnghhh!! Unggghhh!!! Unngggghhhhh!!!!" Dena moaned beneath him.
The subjugation of the sultry princess seemed to have given Feng the
stamina of a stallion; to Dena, Feng's vengeful ass-rape seemed to last an
eternity, as he plowed his relentless manhood deep into the furrow between
Dena's plump buttocks, until at last he shot a mighty wad of spunk deep into
her nether channel.
Then, while the others held the squirming princess down, each of the men
took a turn raping Dena's whip-inflamed ass, plundering her upraised derriere
with the tireless energy of youth. When the five bandits had satisfied
themselves on the altar of her rectum, Talmaz came forward. Once again he was
content to let his sturdy walking stick act on his behalf; he worked the oaken
tool into her with every ounce of his fading strength. And then Kandar strode
forward again, a lusty figure of a man, save for his missing limbs.
He sodomized her too, but after he emptied the contents of his balls into
her nether channel, he did not back away as the others had. Instead he rubbed
deer-grease from the cooking pit all over his good stump and then he punched it
forward, aiming for the beleaguered princess's semen-dripping rectum. When her
rosebud did not yield him entrance, he drew back and shot his truncated limb at
her anal opening again. And again. And again. Until at last his greasy limb
found its way into Dena's over-stretched rectal canal.
Kandar gave the sweet-assed beauty a fistless fisting then, punishing her
abused nether channel with every plunge, and every twist and turn of his
intruding stump...
Meanwhile, after he had finished plundering Dena's shapely buttocks, Feng
had stepped away to search his cave for two unusual objects that he had stolen
from Dargon's citadel years ago. He had kept them all these years in the
forlorn hope that one day he would have a chance to make use of them.
He still remembered how Dena had cheered her father's warriors on, when
they had used them on Anya, his sister; in a few minutes, though, he was
confident that Dena would come to wish that she had never seen them.
After a brief search he found them in the dark corner into which they had
rolled. Each of the devices had a heavy wooden grip, and a slender silver pin,
a little more than an inch in length, that had been painstakingly forged into
the tight spiral of a very sharp corkscrew.
When Kandar had finished his anal assault, Feng told his comrades to stand
the exhausted girl up, facing him. As he held one of the diabolical corkscrews
up before her, Princess Dena recognized it and fainted dead away. But her
abductors carried her over to the stream, and threw her bodily into the icy
mountain water, which quickly revived her. The water beaded up on her lovely
flesh most attractively, chilling her tortured nipples back to erectness; Feng
marveled at the animal responsiveness of her body despite the harrowing ordeal
she had suffered for the last few hours.
Then, as Chen and Xorg held her fast, Feng took the first corkscrew by its
wooden grip, placed its fiendishly sharp metal point against the soft curve of
her left breast, and pricked her tender breastflesh lightly with the sharp tool,
enjoying her winces of pain.
Tiring after a few moments of this pleasant foreplay, though, he gripped
her punished breast tightly with one big-fingered hand, and then jammed the
devilish implement firmly into its soft, warm undercurve.
Dena uttered a full-throated cry of agony at this, but Feng did not shrink
from his revenge.
For this was the Helix -- the very same diabolical weapon than Dargon's
soldiers had used on the the sweet young breasts of his sister, before they had
put her in the Devil's Swing; and now, at last, vengeance - vengeance cruel and
sweet - would be his.
Because of its spiral shape, the wicked tool did not puncture the skin too
deeply. Until Feng, using the wooden grip for leverage, began to slowly twist
the corkscrew, pausing with each quarter-turn to let his comrades revel in the
sadistic spectacle. At first only a thin trickle of blood oozed from the tiny
wound, but with each merciless turn, Dena's succulent breast became more and
more incarnadined. Slowly, relentlessly, Feng bored deeper and deeper into the
tortured globe.
After a number of turns, the fine point of the slender screw had been
drilled into her flesh as far as it would go, and its handle was flush against
the outer surface of her blood-smeared breast.
When Feng let go, the cork-screw remained lodged deep in her lust melon. Feng
and the others paused for a few moments to admire his efforts. And then Feng,
still not satisfied that the proud princess had suffered enough, held the second
corkscrew carefully over the roaring campfire until it was red hot, and then he
touched her other breast with it, enjoying her futile attempts to shrink from
the burning metal. Feng then took the implement and etched the Chinese ideograph
of his name into the upper curve of her heaving breast with the point of the
searing tool. Only when he was finished with his signature did he heat the
corkscrew yet again, so that he could once again savor the sadistic thrill of
deliberately drilling it into her sweat-slick pleasure- globe, turn by exquisite
turn...
