Chapter 38 Lust-slave of the Black Scorpions
Chiang Chan used the buggy whip to gently flick the horse which pulled the
cart in which he and his three henchmen were seated. It was strange, he
thought, how Princess Dena's baleful malediction had come to pass. While
gloomily pondering whether her curse had indeed played a role in Feng's unlucky
fate, he happened to see a coolie snoring drunkenly in the dark doorway of an
abandoned textile warehouse, an empty wine bottle on his chest, his ricksha
leaning against the building.
Anxious to cheer his suddenly morose companions, a thought occurred to him.
"Why so glum? Have you all forgotten that pretty little pig-tailed
pleasure-girl back at the Pit? I'll bet she's lying there waiting to give us a
hearty homecoming. You boys want to have some real fun with her tonight? Just
like those English dukes and earls?"
"Is the Great Wall made of stone?" Dao replied with a wink to the Ox who
sat behind him in the cart. He'd heard stories of how some of the English
nobility treated their servant girls.
"Well, someone grab that ricksha over there and bring it back to the
barracks. Don't worry; it would take an earthquake to wake that drunken fool."
Lin, the junior Scorpion, was ordered to climb down out of the cart and
commandeer the rickshaw. It took him only a moment to step over the sleeping
man, turn the rickshaw around, and, using its long arms, to pull the two-wheeled
human-powered taxi behind him as he fell into step behind the horse cart.
******
As the two vehicles approached the door to the Pit, Ci-ci, the girl whose
body the four Scorpions were bent on enjoying once again, could hear the gentle
clatter of the wheels turning, and the intermittent words and laughter of its
half-drunken passengers in the distance.
Ci-ci had been lying there in the dark and the cold, her throat parched,
her limbs contorted with pain, since the four Scorpions had left on their harbor
errand more than an hour earlier. During their absence she had tossed the
horrifying events of the past twelve hours, indeed the past twelve months, over
and over in her mind, wondering what she might have done differently. And
desperately trying to think how she might escape from the cruel sexual slavery
to which she had been so unjustly condemned.
Her older sister Peony, whom Ci-ci admired for both her beauty and her
goodness of heart, had begged her not to go into service at the Black Pagoda.
She had heard rumors, Peony had told her a year ago, that the palace of Richard
Chan was a citadel of dark secrets, that no good could come from her employment
there
But Ci-ci had insisted that it was not fair that Peony should have to bear
the entire burden of supporting both themselves and their four small brothers
and sisters. The six of them had been orphaned when Peony's father had died in
a mysterious accident a few years earlier and their mother had died, some said
of grief, not long after. The younger children lived with their grandmother, a
difficult old crone embittered by a life of poverty, who would not have offered
the little ones so much as a spoonful of rice or a cup of cabbage broth, had not
Peony provided the money to pay for their meager board from her earnings at
Madame Wong's.
Ci-ci, though, knew nothing of Peony's life at the brothel; her sister had
told her only that she worked as a hostess at an inn that catered to wealthy
foreigners and others. But the younger sister slowly become aware that the
elder's work must have been unusually physically taxing. On many nights, Peony
returned home very late, sometimes after midnight. More than once Ci-ci had
lain, late at night, in the tiny room they shared, feigning sleep, while she
watched her sister undress with a slowness that could only have been the result
of pain or extreme fatigue. Or both.
On one such occasion, it had only been a few hours before dawn when Ci-ci
had watched in breathless silence as her slim and lovely sister had slipped
slowly out of her clothes and crawled gingerly under the meager blanket on the
other side of the humble room. Peony had lain there, cradling her own slender
body in her arms and moaning softly for some minutes as if she were in great
distress. But when the new day dawned a few hours later, Peony, as always,
greeted her younger sister with a cheerful smile while she prepared the morning
tea. Each morning, after they had finished their tea, Peony set out on her
three-mile walk to their grandmother's poorly-kept lodgings so that she might
leave money for the children's keeping, before going on to her "hostess" job --
as if the soft sobs in the night had been the stuff of dreams.
Seeing the toll her sister's means of employment seemed to be taking on
her, Ci-ci had been all the more determined to seek work herself. She was
fifteen, after all, and bright, and, she thought, pretty. It had been the
attractive, rather brazen-looking young daughter of the greengrocer, who had
suggested that Ci-ci might find employment at the Black Pagoda; the pay was good
by Shanghai standards, the woman had said, and the living quarters were
incomparably better than the tiny room Ci-ci shared with her sister.
When Peony got wind of Ci-ci's plans, she scolded her sister for having
such an idea. When Ci-ci asked if the money would not be useful, Peony, almost
in tears, promised to work even longer hours if Ci-ci would give up her thoughts
of working at the Black Pagoda. But Ci-ci chided her sister for her foolish
fears. And finally Peony relented. At that time, after all, Peony had had no
direct knowledge of the affairs of the Chans, their base desires, or the nature
of their underground chamber of sexual horrors. Peony, though she was familiar
with the wispy cobwebs of rumor that enveloped the Black Pagoda, actually had no
concrete knowledge with which to convince her beloved sister.
And so Ci-ci had entered into the service of Richard Chan. Her
housemaid's duties were not onerous, especially once the master of the house had
taken a fancy to her. She had been frightened and fearful when he had taken
her to his bed for the first time, for no young man had ever touched her
before. But knowing that she could not hope to find a position that paid an
inexperienced girl so well, she submitted to his carnal embraces in the hopes
that she could ease her sister's lot in life. Even as her sister had submitted
to the embraces of the clients at Madame Wong's only to ease the lot of Ci-ci
and her other brothers and sisters.
But while Richard Chan himself had treated her well, until today, Ci-ci
sensed early on that his number one concubine, the exotic and beautiful
Eurasian, Mai-Lee Tan, harbored a great bitterness toward her. Some of the
other servants, especially the hatchet-faced battleaxe, Yian, were jealous of
her dark eyes, her soft skin, her youthful figure, and most of all her favor
with the master.
She could only guess that either Mai-Lee or the servants had somehow sought
to incriminate her in Richard Chan's eyes and succeeded, and thus were
responsible for her horrific ordeal, first in the cellars of the Black Pagoda,
and now here in the dark and dismal dormitory of the Black Scorpions.
The pain of the fearful flogging she had undergone in Richard Chan's
dungeons had lessened now, hours later, but there were new pains now, between
her legs, where the Scorpions had ravished her, and in her soul, now that her
young body had become little more than a trophy to be mounted by the winners of
their boisterous dice games.
And now, as she struggled helplessly in her hempen bonds she could only
hope that the sounds she heard outside did not signal the momentary return of
some of the Scorpions. Particularly the quartet who had already used her body
so ruthlessly.
**********
The voices outside grew louder as they drew nearer; and for the first time
Ci-ci recognized the high-pitch laugh of the boy and the cavernous voice of the
one they called the Ox. She shuddered at the realization that the men outside
were indeed the same foursome who had bound her earlier, and were now, in all
likelihood, returning for new pleasures at her expense.
A moment or two later the Ox threw open the door to the Pit, and he and his
comrades entered. The tall man with the bad teeth and the scrawny teenaged boy
proceeded to light a pair of large kerosene lamps near the entrance, while the
other two waited in the doorway
When there was sufficient light to see, the returnees realized that most
of their barracks-mates were not there; Chiang Chan surmised correctly that many
of the missing were deployed in twos and threes, scouring the city looking for
members of Li Chang's rebellious cells. Three or four Scorpions slumbered
noisily on their cots, snoring the heavy snores of drunken debauchery. On the
nearest cot, an unsavory looking cut-throat pawed his naked hairy genitals in
his sleep, no doubt re-enacting in his dreams the depraved pleasures he and his
fellows had enjoyed at the expense of the girl whose tempting body confronted
Chiang Chan and his men.
For the almond-eyed, golden-skinned pleasure girl was exactly where they
had left her earlier following their return visit to the Pit -- lying face down
on the same oaken table on which the men had rolled their dice, with her lovely
face just extending over one end of the table.
The reason why Ci-ci's limbs were wracked with pain, and why her face was
contorted in misery was hardly a mystery to her visitors. The only part of her
tempting body that was in contact with the table was her belly and pubic mound;
her legs had been doubled up and bent back behind her, so that her dainty feet
hovered above her nicely rounded derriere. Meanwhile her arms had been extended
to their fullest behind her, so that her wrists could be cross-lashed to her
ankles, right wrist to left ankle and left wrist to right. Ci-ci's back was
thus curved into an alluring but agonizing bow, while her taut thighs and
pouting, dark-nippled breasts were poised several inches above the table.
Several threads of male Scorpion-juice were splattered across her girlish face
-- her eyelids, cheeks, lips, chin -- and chest. As if each of her evil
assailants had wanted to defile her most beautiful features.
To complete her painful bondage, one of the Scorpions had dug up a pair of
robust thistle plants from the grassy area between the Pit and the Black Pagoda
and placed them on the table beneath Ci-ci's soft, semen-streaked breasts. So
that each time one of them had pulled her head down to pay homage to his
thuggish organ, Ci-ci's succulent young breasts were crushed against the prickly
plants. And now, the thistles, too, were sticky from the Scorpion semen which
her assailants had splattered, in one shuddering ejaculation after another, onto
Ci-ci's tempting love globes. Ci-ci's breasts, in turn, were both rosy and raw
from the irritating surface of the thistles. A thin trickle of scarlet could be
seen just outside her left nipple, where the sharpest of the thistle-spines had
scraped her breastflesh. Chiang Chan noticed that the lurid streaks across her
breasts - which unbeknownst to him had been the work of his sadistic father -
that he had noticed earlier, had faded somewhat.
"Water...please...water," Ci-ci implored; she had had a single cup of tea
in the early afternoon, and not a drop of water in the twelve or fourteen hours
since.
When the four men had entered the Pit, Ci-ci had begun to shiver anew;
partly from the chill of the cold night air which followed them into the room,
and partly from fear -- deep, gut-wrenching fear. It was ironic that the Chans
had stretched her supple young body by elongating it, while the Scorpions had
elected to torment it by bending it back upon itself -- into a taut,
muscle-straining oval. An oval of naked feminine flesh that was punctuated by
two sharp-tipped brown nipples that the coolness of the night air had chilled
into a most appetizing erection.
Ci-ci lay there helplessly while the four men congratulated each other on
their quarry's stringent bondage. Their demeanor sent fresh waves of terror
coursing through Ci-ci's body. Their faces were masks of lust; their eyes,
cold, dark and unblinking, were the eyes of the cruel and implacable evil
spirits that haunt a child's nightmares.
Unfortunately it seemed all but certain that her own nightmare was still
far from over.
Ci-ci had good cause to fear each of the cruel quartet, but it was the
skinny, acne-flecked young one that she resented the most; he was not much older
than she. Surely he should have been sympathetic to a girl's plight. But he
stood there, ogling her nude body, smirking like a village idiot. His hair,
still damp from the sea air, was slicked down in dark strands, while his
feverish eyes raped her nakedness even as a thin trickle of saliva leaked from
the corner of his mouth. Every now and then the pimple-faced boy
surreptitiously moved his hand to his crotch to fondle his genitals, which, she
knew, were swollen in mute testimony to her desirability and her helplessness.
"Water..." she entreated them again. "Please, sir," Ci-ci addressed the
largest of the foursome, who had led them into the room. "This is all a
mistake...I stole nothing."
The Ox's brawny chest swelled in manly pride; he wasn't used to being
called "Sir".
"Hmmm," replied Chiang Chan, young and handsome but with the same black,
unfeeling eyes of his uncle, as he stepped in front of his slow-witted henchman
before Zheng could reply. "Notice, my friends, that in the same breath she asks
for water, she calls my father and uncle liars?"
"The lying slut!" It was the boy's high-pitched voice. "I'll show her."
Out of the corner of her eye, Ci-ci could see the Lin reach for the cord-like
sash that held his loose-fitting black trousers up.
"No, my friends. Let us be generous to those less fortunate than
ourselves. The wench is thirsty. Shall we not satisfy her thirst?"
Dao gave the Ox a look of puzzled surprise. Was this the son of George
Chan?
Chiang Chan moved closer and lifted his left index finger to Ci-ci's cheek,
swabbing the thickest strand of semen onto his finger.
"Here, wench, is something for you to drink. Stick out your tongue, girl."
Ci-ci blushed in shame to the accompaniment of the the ribald chuckles of
her captors.
Dao breathed a brief sigh of relief, grateful that Chiang Chan's seemingly
charitable gesture had been only a cruel ruse. The girl might yet prove to be
good sport. The gap-toothed thug noticed with satisfaction that the tooth-marks
he had left on her left breast when he had raped her earlier were still visible;
he might not have all of his teeth, Dao thought to himself, but he still knew
how to make the most of the yellowing stubs that he still possessed!
Ci-ci's aversion to oral sex, which she had concealed since the first time
Richard Chan had pulled her pretty head down toward his throbbing thick-veined
phallus, had only worsened as this long night of degradation had dragged on. She
had long since lost count of how many Scorpions she had been compelled to
pleasure with her mouth. She looked down at Richard's finger, caked with the
viscous anonymous seed of one of her tormentors, and shook her head from side to
side.
"N-n-no..." Ci-ci began, but her protest went unheard. Chiang Chan's
powerful right hand closed on one of her pigtails and pushed her upper body down
slightly so that Ci-ci's tender teen-aged lust mounds brushed against the brace
of bristling thistle-plants.
"Ooouuhhhhhh!"
"I said, 'stick out your tongue!' " Chiang Chan repeated, a little louder.
When Ci-ci still demurred, Chiang Chan pushed down harder, crushing her
love-globes into the spiny plants. "Your tongue, girl! Don't pretend that
you're not used to the taste."
When Ci-ci could bear the pain no longer, she at last extended the pretty
pink tongue that had been made to lick the rigid cocks and hairy balls of one
dice-lucky Scorpion after another, and was rewarded with the vile dollop of
thug-sperm.
"Swallow, wench!"
Chiang Chan did not pull her clear of the breast-pricking thistles, even
after he was satisfied that Ci-ci had swallowed her slimy mouthful. "This slut
is rebellious, my friends, as well as a liar and a thief!' Chiang Chan exclaimed
to his colleagues. "But we'll put an end to her rebelliousness tonight, won't
we lads?"
"Aye!" answered his men, almost as one, each of the three anxious to sate
his savage lusts on the tempting body of the dark-haired, doe-eyed teenager.
"It will be a fitting wake for Feng, will it not?" Dao added, as he felt
his virile manhood thicken with unholy desire.
Dao suddenly had the fancy that that lust-crazed descendant of untold
generations of barbaric warriors was probably watching the subjugation of the
beautiful thief from some dark corner in the depths of hell. He pictured Feng,
his bald head and hairy body enswirled by noxious vapors, grinning and stroking
that massively rapacious organ of his, while he looked on as Chiang Chan, the
heir to his position as squadron leader, had forced the young beauty's sweet,
succulent breasts deep into the spiny plants, causing her taut, bound body to
vibrate with pain.
Dao felt his lips curl into a thin cruel smile at the notion. It was a
shame though, that the Butcher could not be there to enjoy the festivities
first-hand. There was an element of selfishness in Dao's regret as well; no one
could have been more innovative at finding ways to extract the last ounce of
sadistic pleasure from a young beauty his late mentor. But, judging from his
leadership so far, and the way Ci-ci had squirmed to free her tender breasts
from the bristling plants upon which she was impaled, Chiang Chan promised to be
a worthy successor.
