Chapter 59 Tortured Dreams
On the night after she had searched the dungeon Ming-tsu had had the first
of the recurring macabre dreams that were to haunt her nights.
In her dream she had found herself walking down a long, narrow corridor,
blindfolded and gagged, following in the wake of a man whose heavy footfalls
reverberated off the thick stone walls that were within her reach. Just behind
her strode two more figures, with lighter footsteps, who precluded escape in
that direction, and who occasionally reached out to guide their blindfolded
prisoner around a corner of the labyrinthian passageway.
Ming-tsu was conscious of the fact that she was dressed in layers of some
splendid silken raiment which rustled gently with each step she took. On an on
she trod, following the sound of the rhythmic drumbeat of footsteps made by the
man who led them toward some unknown destination.
The corridor seemed to be leading downward, ever downward as they walked.
The air in the endless winding hallway grew cooler and damper, as they burrowed
deeper and deeper into the bowels of whatever cavernous building they were in,
until at last they reached their apparent destination, a room so cold that
Ming-tsu's body shivered at the chill.
Once there, the two men at her side pushed her toward the man who had led
the strange procession. Ming-tsu felt the third man's powerful hands seize her
by the arms, subduing her ineffective struggles, while the other two men slowly
removed her garments, pausing now and then to fondle her glorious young body as
each layer of her delicate vestments was slowly stripped away. After her last
garment, a wispy undergarment of the flimsiest fabric imaginable, was gently
eased from her rounded shoulders, Ming-tsu felt her sensitive nipples stiffen
slightly in response to the chill in the air. Then the four dextrous hands
slid the shift down over her shapely hips, leaving her completely nude.
That pleasant chore accomplished, the two men who had so skillfully
undressed her used thin strips torn from her silken garments to pinion her
wrists behind her back, lashing each slim wrist lashed to the elbow of the other
arm. Only then did they strip away her blindfold.
When her blood-red blindfold was removed, Ming-tsu was not surprised to
find that she had been escorted to a murky, menacing cellar of some sort. She
was standing about a dozen feet from a high stone wall, in which were ensconced
two flickering torches which provided the only light in the dark and dingy
chamber.
As she peered into the darkness, the beautiful dream-captive gasped as she
took in the fearful visages of the men who had undressed her. Both were
faceless. Or rather, they lacked human faces. Each of them wore grotesque
Chinese demon masks. The taller of the two was dressed in an elegant silver robe
trimmed with black; his mask depicted a raging, scowling demon, whose
frightening facial features were outlined in garish shades of red and green and
black on a white background.
The other man was slightly shorter than Scowling Mask, and a little
heavier in build. He wore the image of a smiling figure, but the mask's smile
was hardly benign or comforting. It was instead a ghastly, ghoulish smile, a
smile half smirk and half leer, a smile steeped in dominance and lechery. The
facial features of the Smiler were daubed in bright hues of cerise, gold and jet
black on an ivory background, and were twisted into the evil grin of a being
who possessess the power of life and death over another. Smiling Mask wore a
copper-colored robe which seemed to shimmer metallically in the eerie light.
Ming-tsu had trembled at the sight of the malevolent-looking masks, but
that trembling had been as nothing compared to the shudder of pulse-pounding
fear that had rippled through her nude body when the third man, who had been
holding her by the shoulders, released his grip and spun her around so that she
could see him.
The other two men, however frightful their hideous masks, somehow exuded
auras of elegance and refinement. Not so the third man. He, too, was
disguised, but in his case his identity was preserved by a sinister black hood
that covered his head and face down to his shoulders, save for two slits in the
cloth that revealed a pair of dark, piercing eyes. The Executioner, as Ming-tsu
came to think of him, was bare-chested and muscular and wore ill-fitting baggy
trousers that were as black as his hood and as rumpled as the masses of tangled
hair that matted his broad chest.
Ming-tsu felt the Executioner's blazing eyes ravish her flesh as she stood
before him, raking their way slowly across the ripe curves of her proud breasts,
and down the smooth, sensuous midriff which tapered to her tiny waist. The
rapacious eyes lingered long on her gently curved belly, tufted with its
precisely-trimmed triangle of dark, silky pubic hair, and on the soft petals of
her sex, before descending to explore her bare and shapely legs.
As Ming-tsu's unblindfolded eyes grew more and more accustomed to the
eerie torchlight, she became convinced that her mysterious abductors had brought
her to the subterranean cellar of the Black Pagoda. As she acclimated herself
to the dim light of her grisly surroundings, she also gradually became conscious
of how the posture enforced by her tight wrist-to-elbow bondage made her
succulent breasts jut forward shamelessly for her captors' pleasure.
After the two masks had groped her a little more, squeezing her out-thrust
breast-goblets with lascivious gusto and exploring the more intimate treasures
between her naked thighs with depraved delight, her phantom abductors did what
she feared most -- they dragged her toward the dark recess where the massive
wooden X's and T's were stored. Near them, she saw a table covered with lengths
of rope and an assorment of fearful implements. But seeing these did not
frighten her half so much as the sight of the sinister mechanism that had
induced such dreadful sensations of fear and loathing in her only that
afternoon.
The wooden frame of the Burmese warlord was comprised of an aged and
splintered vertical board, about half an inch thick, supported by two sturdy
posts spaced nearly a yard apart. The ingeniously designed board was cleverly
carved into twin-arched upper and lower sections that were held together by an
iron hinge on one side of the board. The upper and lower sections each had
matching semi-circular openings. If the ancient hinge, which was open now, were
to be closed, the two halves of the board would come together, the two sets of
semi-circles forming two circular openings.
The purpose of the twin openings could have been neither more obvious nor
more ominous to Ming-tsu. She was soon forced to stand with her bare feet
spread about thirty inches apart, her toes touching the posts which supported
the hinged board. Once her feet were positioned properly, the Masks pressed the
wooden frame up against her nudity, so that her upper body was positioned snugly
against the circular openings in the boards.
The Smiler paused for a moment when he discovered that Ming-tsu's thrusting
lust-globes did not quite reach the lower edge of the semi-circular openings in
the dreadful board. But this minor difficulty was quickly overcome when the
Executioner forced her, by threatening to ram a gleaming silver dildo into the
beautifully puckered orifice between her girl-buttocks, to stand on tall
tiptoes, so that Ming-tsu's luscious breasts now protruded beautifully over the
lower edge of the half-inch thick semi-circular cut-outs. Her tender hillocks
had scarcely touched the wood when she felt the roughness of the Burmese
Breast-crusher's splintered surface lacerating the tender undercurves of her
breasts.
Ming-tsu quickly came to the realization that, while standing on tiptoes is
easily done in a narrow stance, it is rather more difficult when one's feet are
widely spaced. Glancing at the great mirror which lined the opposing wall,
Ming-tsu saw how her tip-toed posture forced the taut muscles of her thighs and
buttocks to tighten in a way that could only please her captors. In the mirror
she could also see the way the Executioner's greedy eyes explored her curves,
and the massive bulge that was forming in his crotch.
Once her mouth-watering love-melons were positioned properly in the
Crusher, the inky-hooded Executioner took six lengths of coarse hempen rope
from the nearby table and quickly lashed each bare leg at ankle, knee, and
mid-thigh securely to the stout upright posts that supported the hinged board.
Ming-tsu gasped with pain as her mysterious, powerfully-built oppressor pulled
the rough cord viciously tight around each of her legs, causing the hempen
ligatures to bite deep into her thigh-flesh.
Ming-tsu's chest was now flush against the Crusher and her nude breasts
were squeezed through the unhinged bottom half of the fearful stocks, so that
the wooden arcs that formed the lower arm of the breast vise were positioned
snugly against her chest wall.
Now that she was safely bound to the pedestal and her honey-gold breasts
were posed so temptingly on the lower portion of the hinged contrivance, the
copper-gowned Smiler approached her and reached for the upper half of the hinged
device. When Ming-tsu saw that the grinning Mask intended to force the matching
sections together, imprisoning the bases of her breasts between the two pairs of
semi-circular wooden bands that formed the Crusher she shook her head violently,
"No!" as she screamed into her stifling scarlet gag.
Behind his garish mask the lips of the copper-robed torturer curled into a
smile as cruel and grotesque as the one in the mask he wore. His dark eyes
brightened in intensity as his hands closed on the upper half of the twin-orbed
hinged device. Then, deaf to Ming-tsu's strangled pleas for mercy, he
endeavored to close the upper section of the hinged board down over her ripe
pleasure-melons. Using every ounce of his considerable strength, the Smiler
tried to press the bands of the upper half of the wooden frame, with its
slightly-too-small semi-circular openings, down around Ming-tsu's throbbing
breasts.
Unfortunately for Ming-tsu, the barbaric instrument had been designed for
entrapping and applying pressure to the breasts of the more modestly endowed
Laotian princess, not the more voluptuous treasures of a Ming-tsu, and try
though he might the Smiler could not manage to lock the two halves of the
Crusher into place.
Ming-tsu writhed -- to the extent her strict bondage permitted her to
writhe -- in pain as her masked tormentor tried to force the two halves of the
diabolical device together. Her imprisoned breasts were soon raw and inflamed
from the dreadful pressure he exerted, but her smiling nemesis, the veins in his
neck bulging from his efforts to close the wooden bands around Ming-tsu's
opulent pain-melons, refused to concede defeat. But finally, after minutes of
frustration for him and agony for Ming-tsu, Smiling Mask gave up and stepped
back from the pedestal, breathing heavily, while he paused to consider how he
might yet accomplish his nefarious purpose.
He was interrupted in his scheming when the Scowler raised a hand to get
his alter ego's attention before stepping around the pedestal behind Ming-tsu
and slipping his hand between her naked thighs in order to use his hand as a
sponge to dab at the abundant moisture there.
Thus the clever man whose mask was contorted into a grimace of rage, used
the fear and pain-induced juices of Ming-tsu's feminine body to lubricate her
magnificent breasts, laving them liberally with a mixture of feminine
perspiration and slippery glandular secretions. When her dark-tipped amber-gold
breasts were slick with her own wetness, he gestured for Smiling Mask to
continue.
The Smiler bowed to him in gratitude. Then, his copper robes coruscating
in the torchlight, the Smiling Mask reached once again for the dreadful hinge,
and swung it over Ming-tsu's well-lubed lust-globes, and this time, with a
mighty effort, he was able to lock the two halves in place, thus encircling
Ming-tsu's gleaming love-goblets in the atrocious breast vise.
The dark-hooded Executioner came around from behind Ming-tsu to join his
masked colleagues and the fearful trio stood there admiring their evil handiwork
for several minutes.
Bound ankle and thigh to the pedestal, Ming-tsu could do nothing but stand
on her tiptoes and suffer for their pleasure. The bases of her breasts, so
cruelly constricted by the narrow, rough-edged wooden bands of the
breast-crusher, felt as if they might explode. Her crinkly brown areoles seemed
to swell in protest, and the pale blue veins of her breasts seemed to rush to
the surface of her flesh, as if begging to be released from the agony that
coursed through the nerve endings in her tortured globes. The Smiler had
succeeded in his depraved design -- he had transformed Ming-tsu's dark-crested,
sweat-slick pleasure-mounds into two bulging melons of pain-wracked tit-flesh.
The three ghoulish figures whispered to each other softly, the Scowler
occasionally pointing at Ming-tsu's swollen, ripe-nippled love-gourds. At first
Ming-tsu supposed that he did so to call some subtle nuance of her torture to
his colleagues attention. But she soon came to the gut-wrenching realization
that the threesome were not discussing what they had already done.
They were discussing what they were about to do.
