Chapter 36 The Breast Bondage of the Ceylonese Sisters
Chapter 36 The Breast Bondage of the Ceylonese Sisters
Once the weight of the four bodies and their chains had been jettisoned, it
did not take long for the Ox and Lin to row back to their comrades. When they
arrived back at the lonely wharf they joined Chiang Chan and Dao on the horse
cart for the ride back to the Black Pagoda.
Dao, sitting in the front with Chiang Chan, was first to speak. "Too bad
about Feng, -- he never will get a crack at that thieving little bitch's ass,
will he?"
"Crack!" Lin giggled in his high-pitched voice. "That's a good one."
"Laugh if you want, boy, but that man could make a woman hurt in more ways
than you'll ever dream of."
"Tell him about those sisters -- you remember, the ones with the ..." and
the Ox made a cupping motion with his huge hands as if he were squeezing a very
generous pair of female breasts. "Where were they from, again?" the Ox urged in
his resonant but vacant voice.
"Ceylon. Yeah, those two were something alright." Dao shook his head
wistfully as if remembering pleasant days past.
"Yes, tell us," Chiang Chan joined in.
"Well, it was like this. One summer a few years ago a slaver ship drops
anchor in the harbor back there with a nice cargo of women that were destined
for Madame Wong's."
"Who's Madame Wong?" Lin asked.
"Her girls call her the Dragon Lady; she was beautiful once, and she's
smart and she's tough, and I think she'd sell her own daughter for the coins in
a beggar's cup. She runs half a dozen brothels for the Chans. One of the
nicest ones caters mostly to the round-eyes -- the Europeans. She gets her
girls from all over -- some are home grown and go into a whore's life with their
eyes wide open. But other come from the slave markets of Samarkand, and quite
a few come from the Indies, southeast Asia and anywhere else where warring
chiefs are willing to trade some of their female captives to the round-eyes for
weapons. And the Europeans, especially a red-bearded old whoremaster of a
ship's captain named McMahon, save the best-looking girls for Madame Wong, who
they know will pay well for good merchandise.
"But getting back to the story -- a few summers ago, one of the brothels
burns down, and suddenly the Dragon Lady has more girls on her hands than she
has room for, and more coming. Feng finds out and talks us Scorpions into
chipping in to 'rent' a couple of the newcomers for a few weeks. But the deal
was that we couldn't rough 'em up too much because we had to return them in good
condition at the end of the agreed time. Feng had to promise we wouldn't slap
'em, punch 'em or use any kind of weapon on 'em. And, since they were
supposedly virgins, Feng had to agree that we wouldn't fuck 'em or even make
'em do any friendly cock-sucking. But Feng," Dao chuckled at the memory, " that
old bastard saw to it that we got our money's worth."
"From the new arrivals Feng chooses these two sisters from Ceylon -- young,
choice, silky-haired girls. The older one, Leana, couldn't have been a day over
twenty, and her sister was maybe a year younger. So, on the first night Feng
brings 'em down to the Pit and he tells 'em they only have two duties. One of
them has to cook for us and one has to wait on table each night."
"So what's the problem with that?" Chiang Chan asked with interest. He'd
had a young Ceylonese girl once at Madame Wong's -- a present from his father on
his sixteenth birthday. She'd had beautiful features, with appealing curves for
a girl so young, and flesh warmed to a delicious bronze by the equatorial sun.
Her clove-scented pussy had been as hot and moist as a summer in Singapore. But
it was her deep-clefted buttocks he remembered best. Hers had been the first
ass he had ever fucked and he had fucked it diligently, thrusting his swollen
cockhead into her tight-clutching channel until her subdued grimaces of pain
evolved into agonized cries for him to stop. But with his father, George Chan,
watching, as if testing his manhood, Chiang had redoubled his efforts, punishing
the delectable dark-skinned girl with his male ramrod, thrusting into her rectum
harder and harder until his balls were bouncing off her resilient bottom-cheeks.
While his father beamed approvingly at his son's cocksmanship, and forced his
own rock-hard penis between the soft lips of the girl the woman-slavers had
taken far from her homeland...
"Give me a chance to finish, Chiang Chan. The older one, Leana, volunteers
to cook, and she was quite happy with her choice. Until Feng tells her to take
her blouse off. Both of the girls were wearing thin blouses like the peasant
girls wear in that part of the world. And those wrap-around skirts showed a
lot of leg when they walked. That was a hot summer -- remember, Ox?"
The behemoth nodded in recollection.
"It was so sticky that night, that those blouses clung to their bodies
like, like..." Dao paused, trying to think of an apt comparison, " like dew on a
spring meadow."
Chiang Chan smiled as he flicked the horse gently with the buggy whip. Dao
was as homely as they come, and probably couldn't write much more than his own
name, if that. But he wasn't a bad storyteller.
"You could tell that both of 'em had a nice pair of mangos under those
blouses. And their nips were like darts against the silk. Anyway, when Feng
tells Leana that she's gonna do some bare-breasted cooking, the girls started
to get nervous. You could see it in their big brown eyes. Leana looked at us
like a frightened deer; there was eight of us Scorpions there that night, and
there was sixteen eyes that wanted a better look at what was under that blouse."
"Leana backs away frightened, until Feng shows her two or three nasty
looking whips that were hanging on the wall by his cot. He tells her that if she
didn't do what she was told, his deal with Madame Wong was off. Leana's brown
eyes looked at the whips and then back at Feng, who's scowling at her like a
cave-demon, and pretty soon she concludes that he's as serious as a Tibetan
monk. Leana was trembling by then, and she turns around so that she can
unbutton her blouse with her back to us. But Feng says, 'No, turn around;
Scorpions like to see what they'd paid for.' So she turns around and starts in
on the buttons. It seemed to take forever, her hands were shaking so bad, but
the wait was worth it. When she finally peeled the blouse off, we got a good
look at her jugs. They were damp with sweat, whether from the humidity or from
fear, I didn't know and didn't care. Damn, she had some tasty-looking knockers,
didn't she, Ox? Remember how those brown nips tilted up?"
"Sure do; remember how she tried to cover 'em up with her hands ? But Feng
didn't go for that."
"Right. He told her if she tried that again he'd have to whip her hands
until she lowered them, and then he'd give her a few across her boobs for good
measure. So she lowered her hands and just stood, there, breathin' heavily
while we eyeballed her tits. And every breath seemed to lift those tasty
nipples higher into the air."
Dao took a long leisurely breath, enjoying the reminiscence, before
beginning again. "Feng had her start dinner then, while we watched, and pretty
soon Leana had a fire going under a wok on the big old stove in the back of the
Pit."
Chiang Chan remembered seeing the ugly black stove in the back of the
barracks, not far from its fuel -- a pile of coal in a corner of the room.
Dao continued. "Feng made sure that every course she cooked that night was
either quick-fried in a wok or deep fried in hot oil. And it didn't take long
for the grease to start popping. But Feng ordered her to keep her hands at her
sides, except when she was turning or stirring or serving the food." Dao
laughed roughly through his irregular teeth. "You should have seen her shake
those tits when the grease landed, trying to cool them off!"
"Tell 'em about the other one," the Ox encouraged Dao.
Chiang Chan had almost forgotten about the other sister.
"Meanwhile you're probably thinking that the younger sister, Mahlua, got
off easy, right?" Dao asked.
"Well, of course, -- it wasn't her boobs getting splattered," chimed in
Lin. "All she had to do was serve the meals, right?"
"But the story isn't over yet, young one. Feng tells Mahlua to take her
own blouse off. 'Don't worry," he said, 'You won't have to cook tonight.' So
Mahlua unbuttons her blouse -- it was bright red, I remember -- and may my
father's ghost wander a thousand years if her tits weren't just as ripe and firm
as Leana's, and maybe even bigger. Big juicy mangoes they were, with nipples
you'd like to suck on for hours."
"And then," Dao went on, "Feng took a length of some thick coarse rope, and
starts tying up her tits. None of us had ever seen anything like that before.
I don't know where he learned how to do it, but that mountain man was a magician
with a rope. Inside of five minutes he'd wound that scratchy rope around
Mahlua's man-pleasers so tight you'd have thought he was trying to strangle
'em."
"She had to serve dinner that way, with her tits swollen up as hard and as
red as pomegranates. And don't think we didn't all squeeze those babies every
chance we got -- not to mention runnin' our hands up the slit in that blood-red
skirt she wore."
"The next night Feng made the two sisters throw the dice and the winner got
to choose whether she wanted to cook, and deal with the hot grease, or wait on
table with her boobs tied. And Feng made 'em throw the dice and choose every
night after that."
"Those girls were with us for three weeks; and regardless which one of them
won the throw of the dice, neither one of them ever chose to repeat the torment
she had experienced most recently. And every night of those three weeks, Feng
used a thinner grade of rope. The thinner the rope, the tighter the tit-fit he
used to say. He worked down through several grades of rope, then various kinds
of cord, and then twine, and hemp and jute-string, until finally, on the last
night we had the girls, Leana was cooking dinner again, and yelping everytime
the deep fryer spits grease at her, while Feng very calmly removes the strings
from a musical instrument he'd made when he lived in that cave up in the
mountains."
"That brown-skinned island bitch almost fainted when she saw what he was up
to," the Ox chimed in.
"Didn't she though? One he got the strings loose -- I don't know what they
were made out of -- mountain goat-gut, for all I know -- he gives Mahlua one of
his evil smiles..."
"Only kind he had," Zheng the Ox interjected from the back with a laugh.
"And then he starts winding the first string around one of Mahlua's big
jugs."
"Damned if her eyes didn't start bulgin' almost as much as her tits as she
watched him wrap that mandolin string, or whatever it was, around her boobs."
"She was beggin' him to stop, remember?" the Ox recalled.
"Yeah," Dao laughed. "As if begging was gonna stop Feng once he had his
mind set on something. Her whining made him angry, -- the way he saw it, those
two island girls shoulda been happy we wasn't givin' 'em the full treatment,
like we're gonna give that little thief when we get back to the Pit."
Dao paused as each man's thoughts turned to the delicious sixteen-year old
beauty they'd left tied in a muscle-straining bondage back at the barracks. Then
he returned to his story.
"So he rips that red sarong off, cuts off a strip of the material and gags
her with it. Damn! She was a sight to see, Ox, wasn't she? She had the legs of
a girl who'd spent her life sprinting through a jungle or along a beach. Long,
beautiful legs, a nice little bush, and a bottom your hand just itched to spank.
Pretty soon, the gag has her droolin' and what with the tears runnin' down her
cheeks and the spit drippin' down from her chin pretty soon those fuckin'
tied-up tits were as slick and wet as you'd ever want 'em."
"So what'd you do then?" Lin self-consciously wiped away a stream of
saliva that had leaked from the corner of his own mouth as he leaned forward
from the back of the cart, the better to listen to the exciting story.
"Well, as you can imagine, half of us were yellin' to have Mahlua sit at
the table with her swollen drool-covered tits propped up on the table so we
could work 'em over some -- I was achin' to lay some leather across her
throbbin' knobs myself -- her puffy nipples were really askin' for it! -- and
the others wanted to fuck her senseless. But Feng wouldn't let us, the old
bastard. He'd given his word to the Dragon Lady that he wouldn't let us fuck or
beat her Ceylonese cuties, and so we didn't."
"Yeah," the Ox joined in, "But he let us give them a cock-whipping they'd
never forget!"
"A what?" Chiang Chan asked, genuinely puzzled.
Dao continued his story. "Feng forced Mahlua to kneel on the floor next to
the dinner table, so that her bound boobs were cock-high for most of us.
"Meanwhile some of the others grabbed Leana and forced her down next to her
sister. Feng wiped the grease off her tits, and then roped them up nice and
tight in some kite-twine. Well, looking at those two gorgeous brown-skinned
beauties lined up on their knees, their tits tied up tighter than a pair of
Siamese jungle drums, their tasty-looking nips pokin' out like they was
challengin' us, well, my cock was as hard as a hammer..."
"And mine wasn't?" interjected the Ox.
"Sure it was," Dao said agreeably. "And then Feng told us we could smack
those bulging tit-balls with our cocks -- two men on each girl, one on each
breast. Me and Ox paired up and we we chose Mahlua -- remember, big fella?"
"Who could forget?" Zheng chortled, as he rubbed his crotch where his
massive manhood had begun to swell.
Dao nodded in agreement. In his mind's eye he could see Zheng's monstrous
cock, nearly as thick as an axe-handle and almost as hard, lying across the
plump firmness of Mahlua's delicious right breast.
"One of the boys got behind Mahlua, grabbed her arms so she wouldn't give
us any trouble, and put his knee in her back, so that she was kneeling upright
with her breasts stuck out just perfect. Then we started clubbing those juicy
brown tits with our pricks. From the way she cried out, Mahlua's boobs must
have been sensitive as hell. And no wonder -- those damn strings had sunk so
deeply into her tits that you could hardly see 'em. But we could sure see the
pain in her pretty brown eyes and hear her gruntin' in her gag every time we
whacked 'em, couldn't we Ox?" Dao could feel his balls tighten and his manhood
swell in his trousers as he recalled the lusty scene.
"Yeah. And we whacked 'em good, too!"
"Damn!" Lin exclaimed, wishing he had been there. Even Chiang Chan, who
had enjoyed more than his share of unusual erotic encounters thanks to his
father's power and proclivities, was aroused by Dao's strange tale.
"Yeah, we pounded those bulging boobies til our dicks hurt. And then we
concentrated on her nipples. Finally, I was so fucking excited I couldn't take
it any more, and we jerked off on her, didn't we, Ox? Man, I never came like
that before or since. I must have pumped cum on her tits for thirty seconds.
We creamed those knockers good, didn't we, partner?"
"Sure did. Coated 'em up real nice."
"Meanwhile Feng and one of the others was workin' over Leana. I swear to
you, that evil-minded old bastard cock-whipped her tits for a good twenty
minutes before his shot his load."
Dao's voice suddenly dropped and darkened. "But I guess he won't be
shooting his load no more."
The foursome grew quiet, as the horse pulled them slowly along in the cart.
The pinnacle of the Black Pagoda was visible in the distance now; they would be
back at the Pit soon. Each man in his own way pondering the vicissitudes of
life -- one minute Feng had been terrorizing the beautiful Liu; the next minute
he was lying in a pool of blood with his throat cut from ear to ear.
