Chapter 60 Caught in the Crusher
A few moments later, after silently nodding to each other as if to seal
their agreement, the parley ended. The slender, silver-garbed torturer and his
copper-clad colleague each took a pair of tiny, tight-gripping tweezers from the
nearby table. The two Masks held the little tools so that they glimmered
briefly in the eerie torchlight, before lowering them to the level of Ming-tsu's
delectable nipple-buds.
At first the unholy twosome were content merely to seize her breast-tips
gently but firmly with the miniature tongs, tugging and twisting her buds until
they were nicely engorged and jutting out superbly from her viciously- vised
breasts. Ming-tsu cursed the lusty responsiveness of her body, a responsiveness
which had brought her so much pleasure in the past, but which had brought her
only humiliation and pain tonight. The opposing life-forces of yin and yang had
turned on her.
Soon the Masks had succeeded in their nipple-teasing stimulation, and
Ming-tsu's love-nuggets surged provocatively outward from the honeyed globes
that were themselves thrust shamelessly forward by the inexorable bands of the
breast-crusher. At that point the gruesome Executioner lumbered heavily over to
the dungeon wall and selected a nasty-looking six-tailed leather whip from the
plethora of instruments of flagellation that hung there. Then, while his wicked
partners continued to toy with Ming-tsu's sensitive nipples, the hairy, hooded
hangman presented the evil whip to the moist lips of the tip-toed beauty, so
that she might properly abase herself before the whip which would shortly master
her.
When Ming-tsu turned her face away from the appalling instrument in
revulsion, the Scowler frowned and set the relatively gentle pair of tweezers
aside and chose instead a crueler pair of pincers, larger and longer and with
sharp-ridged gripping ends. The angry-masked villain, his dark eyes bright with
intensity, moved the jaws of the pincers to one of Ming-tsu's swollen breast
buds, closing the two arms gently around the base of her mahogany-hued nipple.
The Smiler looked on intently, his mask frozen in a grotesque grin as the
Scowler slowly tightened the tiny jaws on the engorged pellet of flesh until
Ming-tsu, desperate to escape the dreadful pain of the pincers, lowered her
moist, submissive mouth to the Executioner's lash.
But the hooded malefactor was not content that Ming-tsu should escape
humiliation with such a brief touch of her sweet lips. One by one, the
Executioner drew the full length of each of the six thongs through Ming-tsu's
pouting mouth, forcing his beautiful prisoner to moisten every inch of each
strand of leather with degrading slavishness. Each time she paused, however
briefly, the cruel jaws of the Scowler's pincers closed tighter on a corky
nipple-bud.
When he was fully satisfied with her debasement, the bare-chested
Executioner took a position slightly behind her and to her left. In the long
mirror that lined one wall of the dungeon Ming-tsu watched the hooded figure
lift the vicious, black-handled whip high in the air before sweeping it down
violently toward her rounded buttocks.
CRACCKKK!! "MPPHGGGHH!!" Ming-tsu's cry of pain, like each of the many
that would follow, was smothered by her gag. The violent force of the blow
nearly knocked her off her tiptoes, but when she felt the wooden bands of the
Crusher grip her imprisoned breasts even tighter, she quickly rose up on her
toes again to ease the terrible pressure.
SMAAACCKK!! "NGGNNMGHH!!" The six thongs struck again, searing her supple
thighs with their fiery kiss. The Executioner seemed to focus all of his
considerable strength in his powerful right arm before launching the whip on its
cruel downward path. Neither Li Chang's whip, nor his strength, nor his ferocity
on The Night of the Forty Lashes, could come close to matching that of the brute
who flogged her now.
SWACCKKK!! "MPPHHH!!" A lightning bolt across her hips this time, further
pinkening Ming-tsu's golden buttock-flesh.
It was at this point that the Scowler in the silver robe stepped forward
again with his dreadful pincers, tugging and torquing Ming-tsu's agonized
lust-nuggets. While the black-hooded ruffian flogged her delicious bottom, the
silver-robed sadist trapped the tips of her nipples between the jaws of his
vicious tool, and twisted and wrenched the buds of her protruding, pain-wracked
breasts until Ming-tsu thought he would tear them from her body.
WHHACKK!!! "UNNNGHHH!!!" The man with the pincers tightened his grip at
the precise moment that the hangman's lash raked her ripe bottom summits.
CRACCKKK!!!! "AUNNGHHFF!!" The flogger struck again, raking her rounded
buttocks with the evil thongs, leaving six fresh striations across her gleaming
nether cheeks. Even in her pain Ming-tsu could feel a streamlet of perspiration
trickling down the canyon that bisected the rounded slopes of her buttocks.
Ming-tsu's tight-fitting gag stifled her screams, but it could not begin to
contain the copious streams of saliva that issued from her mouth in response to
the torment of the breast-crusher. Thin trickles of drool cascaded downward
continually, re-anointing her breasts with a slippery slickness and wetness that
seemed to inspire her abductors to further cruelties.
The Masks tortured her tempting breasts silently, giving her no reason and
affording her no recourse. While her profusely perspiring lust-gourds remained
trapped in the excruciating bondage of the Crusher, the Scowler worked on her
stiff-thrusting nipples, and the copper-robed Smiler selected yet another
implement. This time the grotesquely-grinning demon chose a large pair of iron
tongs whose spiked jaws opened just wide enough to enclose one of Ming-tsu's
bulging love-melons.
CRACCKKK!! "MMFFFGHH!!" The Smiler watched with scarcely disguised
delight as Ming-tsu's nude body shimmied deliciously in the Burmese torture-vise
as the Executioner delivered another savage lash to her nether-cheeks. The
leather thongs shredded the rich curves of her bottom like the claws of an angry
dragon.
As the Smiler moved the horrid tongs closer to her right breast, Ming-tsu
felt the six tongues of the whip between her wide-spread legs, the leather
strands playing caressingly over the prominent lips of her sex. 'Please,' she
adjured what ever forces governed the universe, 'not there'.
THWACKK!! But the gods of cruelty whom she had served so well, disdained
her entreaty. The Executioner had deftly swept the cruel thongs upward to
attack the innermost petals of her flower of lust. Her love-nook was instantly
afire with pain. "MMMMMNNNPHHHHF!!!!" she screamed uselessly, soundlessly.
But once again her cry was drowned in the crimson silk.
WHHACCKK !!! "UHRRRGHHH!" The Executioner's fiery lash ripped into her
bottom-flesh again, leaving lurid marks on either side of her deep
buttock-cleft.
Then the trinity of evil began to combine their efforts. While the Scowler
attacked Ming-tsu's left nipple with his evil pincers, the Smiler positioned the
terrible tongs around Ming-tsu's swollen and succulent right breast before
tightening the twin arms of the tool with inexorable and inescapable
ruthlessness. As the cold metal dug into the tender roundness of her breast,
Ming-tsu shuddered in pain. Pain which soon became unendurable agony when the
leering-masked torturer twisted her imprisoned breast in one direction and then
wrenched it back in the other. All the while Scowling Mask continued to attack
the mahogany-tipped nugget of her other breast. Seizing her throbbing love-bud
tightly between the dreadful pair of pincers, he proceeded to savage it with
painstaking and pain-giving thoroughness.
WHAACCKK!! "UMMPPPHHFFF!!!" The cruel thongs whip- flogged Ming-tsu's
perfect bottom-cheeks yet again.
And so Ming-tsu's nightmarish-ordeal continued, the Executioner lashing her
buttocks and thighs with barbaric savagery, while the two Masks slowly worked
their way through their awful arsenal of pincers and tongs. Each of their
dreadful tools seemed to be drawn to her captive breasts and their dark-tipped
nipple-crests as if there had been powerul magnets encased within her lush,
sweat-sheened love melons.
Yet even this dreadful triple-torture did not quench the blood lust that
seemed to possess Ming-tsu's mysterious captors.
It was only when the Masks had pinched and plucked every inch of her
swollen globes that they summoned their whip-wielding companion to join them
facing Ming-tsu. The grim-lipped executioner stood silently for a moment,
enjoying the sight of the Chinese beauty's red-tinged love-mounds, and the
impressions the various pincers and pliers had left on her golden treasures.
Through the hole in his mask Ming-tsu could see the Executioner's lips curl
into a grisly rictus of lust. The hooded sadist stepped to her left and
extended his dreadful whip at arm's length, so that the six red-tinged thongs
lay against the edge of the breast-crusher, curling across Ming-tsu's thrusting
woman-globes.
"NFGGMMPPHHHH!!!!" "NNMMMMFFGGGHHH!!!" she screamed into the muffling
crimson gag. If the ferocious whip had drawn blood from her well-padded bottom,
what havoc would it wreak on the delicate flesh of her naked breasts?
Ming-tsu suddenly realized that the Smiler had disappeared out of sight. A
moment later she felt her silky hair being pulled back roughly by his unseen
hand.
Now that her face was safely out of the way, the Executioner looked up at
Scowling Mask, who nodded silently. Then the gruesome hooded figure lifted the
evil whip high into the dark shadows of the dungeon before sweeping it downward
with shattering force across both of Ming-tsu's proud breasts.
THWAPPCK!!!! "MMMNHHGGPHHHHFF!!
Ming-tsu nearly swooned from the pain. Each of the six tongues of the
ferocious lash had blazed its own fiery trail across the luscious curves of her
imprisoned mounds.
Smiling Mask seemed pleased with the way Ming-tsu's upper body, nearly
immobilized by the Crusher and the thigh-constricting leg-ropes, spasmed in
mute, motionless agony. Then the Scowler, who had been stroking his chin,
pulled his hand away from his face and made a short chopping motion.
The Executioner grunted and strode heavily around to Ming-tsu's right and
once again laid the tails of his horrid whip across his captive's sumptuous
breast-fruits. He slowly dragged the vicious thongs back and forth across her
swollen tits, while the Smiler grabbed her hair and pulled her head back again,
preparing her for the next blow.
It wasn't long in coming. With her head pulled back, Ming-tsu could see
the whip soar upward into the shadows, and then, a split-second later, heard the
terrifying whistle of the leather flashing downward through the heavy air of the
dungeon.
She felt the ripping pain of the whip on her tender pain-globes a
milli-second before she heard the dreadful THWACKKK!!! the whip made when it
found the lush upper slopes of her breasts.
"MMMMMMPPHHHHHFGGGGHHH!!" The searing pain drew yet another stifled scream
from the almond-eyed goddess.
The Smiler released her hair, and her head fell forward. She caught the
eye of The Scowler, who returned the questioning glance of the Executioner
before raising his index finger.
One more.
The Executioner changed his position slightly; he no longer stood at right
angles to Ming-tsu, but instead about a yard in front of her and slightly to her
right. Through the gruesome hood she saw the Executioner's eyes boring into
the dark-mocha nipple-buds which were still inflamed from their losing battle
with the Scowler's pincers.
Ming-tsu desperatly shook her glistening, sweat-soaked head back and forth,
'No' but she might as well have saved her strength.
For the muscular black-hooded monster had selected his targets and there
would be no mercy, no escape.
The executioner lifted the whip to Ming-tsu's quivering brown bull's-eyes,
and rubbed the tip of the whip-stock against her bitable lust-nipples for a
moment or two, as if he were an officer making sure that the two men under his
command were standing at attention.
Then, satisfied that the dark-haired beauty's breast-buds had been teased
to an exquisite tautness, the grim-visaged Executioner drew the six leather
thongs back in a horizontal plane until his powerful arm was fully extended,
pausing for the briefest of instants at the height of his backswing as if to
re-calibrate his aim. Then his brutish arm shot forward, gathering speed as he
swung, so that the lacerating leather strips whipped into the ripe summits of
Ming-tsu's rosy-gold breasts with incredible force.
THWAPPPCKK!!! "MPPHFGGGHHHH!!"
The blow landed with such impact that it drove Ming-tsu's constricted
melons back against the encircling bands of the breast-crusher. It seemed to
Ming-tsu as if her crinkly areolae and her dark, puffy nipples had been shredded
by shards of shrapnel.
The Scowler solemnly nodded his head in approval, and the Executioner
inclined his head briefly in that direction, as if to express gratitude to the
Scowler for the opportunity to punish such a firm and succulent pair of breasts.
And still the fury of the Demon Masks had not been satisfied...
When she had seen the breast vise in the dungeon that afternoon, Ming-tsu
had been puzzled by a small container filled with gleaming metallic objects
which had been mounted on the side of the pedestal to which, in her dream, she
had eventually been so forcibly lashed. But as the Masks once again set to work
with their dreadful tools, she noticed the tiny circular openings, spaced half
an inch apart, in the wooden arcs that imprisoned her bulging love-mounds in
their terrible embrace.
In her dream she quickly solved the mystery of the metallic objects; the
slender shining lengths of metal were long, golden needles and slender, silvery,
breast-gouging screws which could be inserted in the numerous slits that lined
the breast vise. Needles and screws that could be driven with slow-stabbing
viciousness into a young woman's en-vised breasts to satisfy the depravity of
her sinister assailants.
As if reading her mind, the thin-lipped Scowler transferred the
nipple-gripping pincers to his left hand, which he then deftly closed over the
inflamed love bud of Ming-tsu's right breast. The pincer-wielder gradually
tightened his grip on the nipple-pincher even as he took one of the long golden
needles in his right hand. Then, holding the razor-sharp needle by a cap-like
protuberance at its thicker end, the Scowler guided it toward a needle-slit in
the vise that offered access to the soft underside of her left breast.
His thin-slitted eyes blazing with malice, Scowling Mask slowly pressed the
gleaming-sharp needle upward and inward, through the needle-slit, until it
pierced the tautly-stretched honey-gold skin of Ming-tsu's tender under-breast.
The beautiful concubine jerked violently and screamed soundlessly into her
gag when the needle first punctured her flesh. The silver-robed phantom's lips
had smiled within the scowl at this reaction; then, tightening his grip on the
needle cap, and with carefully calibrated slowness, he gradually forced the
excruciating needle deeper into Ming-tsu's quivering breastflesh, millimeter by
malevolent millimeter.
Once the Scowler's needle was embedded to the hilt in Ming-tsu's juicy
breast, the Smiler stepped forward, his visage twisted into a sadistic smirk.
Smiling Mask took a second golden needle and, with infinite slowness, drove the
slender barb downward into the same luscious lust-globe. The Masks exchanged
glances of mutual satisfaction as their beautiful victim's torso shivered and
shook uncontrollably in response to the appalling paroxysms of pain that coursed
through her body. Each of the masked predators then plunged a second golden
needle into Ming-tsu's other proudly-pointing lust-melon, before gesturing to
their henchman that he might take his turn.
The hooded hangman, sweaty and breathing heavily from the ferocious
flogging he had administered, picked up one of the long golden needles,
examining its length and sharpness in the flickering torchlight for a long
moment, before setting it down, and choosing one of the razor-sharp, silver
needle-screws instead. The grisly Executioner inserted the long, slender screw
into a needle slit on one of the wooden bands of the breast vise, and then
slowly set about screwing the fiendishly sharp barb downward into the rounded
upper slope of Ming-tsu's right breast. As soon as he pierced the deliciously
tawny skin and the first trickle of claret begin to spew from her tightly
constricted breast, the burly Executioner grunted with sadistic lust and ripped
off his dark hood, revealing the pale, bloodless face and bandaged throat of
Feng the Butcher.
The horrified Ming-tsu silently screamed her lungs out into her scarlet
gag, while the Phantom-Feng tore at the bandages on his throat, allowing the
blood from his slashed artery to spout forth through his gaping wound in great
crimson spurts, drenching Ming-tsu's nude, whip-streaked breasts and torso in a
crimson tide of blood. Then, while the silver-robed Scowler and the lecherous
Smiler silently nodded their approval, the burly executioner, sporting a
sadistic leer on his face and the ghastly gash on his throat, gave the
sharp-tipped needle-screw yet another violent twist as Ming-tsu's upper body
convulsed in unimaginable agony.
The Butcher was just about to drill the vicious screw even deeper into
Ming-tsu's blood-drenched breast, when three wraithlike figures suddenly emerged
from the murky shadows of the dungeon. Upon seeing them, the Masks seemed
petrified with fright, as frozen in place as the grotesque gargoyles of some
ghostly cathedral. They stood mesmerized with fear as the three silent
apparitions, their faces sea-green, their hair wet and tangled, their bodies
dripping and draped with seaweed, approached.
As they drew nearer, Ming-tsu recognized through her tears of torment that
two of the figures were the unearthly shades of Wen-chi and Li Chang. The
drowned specters silently approached the frozen figures of the Scowler and the
Smiler and unmasked them, revealing the horror-stricken faces of the Brothers
Chan. Then the two disembodied phantoms slowly led the two benumbed torturers
away to whatever divine retribution awaited them in the infernal regions.
Meanwhile the third shade, smaller, slighter, its face obscured by clinging
clumps of seaweed, strode forward fearlessly and stayed the hand of the dreadful
Dungeon-master who was just about to give Ming-tsu's breast crew a final, fatal
turn. The pallid figure drew the protesting tormentor away from his tortured
victim and led him slowly away into the darkest shadows of the dungeon -- or
perhaps toward his own dark corner in the depths of hell. Just before the two
figures vanished completely into the shadows, the frail, fragile phantom turned
back and strands of seaweed fell away from the greenish but still beautiful face
of Liu.
When the cords of kelp drifted to the dungeon floor, the long strands
split apart, sending a succession of white-gleaming pearls rolling across the
dark dungeon floor toward Ming-tsu's bare feet. A moment later the the faces
and bodies of Liu and Feng the Butcher melted away into the darkness, leaving
nothing of the Executioner behind save for the blood on Ming-tsu's breasts.
Ming-tsu breathed a great sigh of relief now that her three tormentors had
been spirited away. Her terrible ordeal at last was over.
It was a moment or two before she realized that the two torches which
provided the only light in the dungeon were waning quickly and would die out
altogether within minutes.
Leaving her trapped in the ghastly grip of the breast-crusher in the
Stygian underworld of the Black Pagoda.
Bound and gagged and utterly alone.
Alone, that is, except for the myriad of many-legged creatures which she
had seen earlier in the day crawling on the blood-stained wooden X's and Y's and
T's that stood against the nearby dungeon wall.
Creatures which would soon be drawn to the smell of fresh blood...
********
At that point Ming-tsu had awakened from her dreadful nightmare, drenched
with the clammy sweat of terror, to hear herself shrieking at the phantoms to
return and remove the fiendish screw they had left embedded in her breast. As
she returned to full wakefulness Ming-tsu continued to brush her hands over her
heaving breasts, as if to wipe away the blood which had seemed so wet, so red,
so real in her horrifying nightmare.
Such had been the stuff of Ming-tsu's dreams since the Night of the Tiger.
So fearful had they been that Ming-tsu, who was not an unduly introspective
person by nature, had nervously asked herself whether her macabre fancies were
the product of fear or guilt. Fear certainly, to some extent. But what of
guilt? It was an emotion foreign to her very nature. When she had summoned Liu
and Wen-chi to the depths of the Black Pagoda, ambition had been her single
purpose. And throughout that long terrible night she had stayed the firm course
of cruelty.
But now, with her dark dreams had come misgivings.
Had not Li Chang, that inveterate story-teller, once recounted to her the
story of a noble lord in a faraway land who had been visited by strange specters
from another world, specters who had prophesied that the noble lord would one
day be king? How that brave warrior, stoked by the fires of ambition and the
coaxing of a wife even more desirous of power than he, had lured the true king
to his castle and murdered him there, and proceeded to seize the throne?
The ambitious lord's lust for power was now satisfied. But the tale was
not yet done. To protect his usurped throne, the newly crowned king had then
piled murder upon murder, with each additional crime further blackening his soul
and luring him ever closer to the madness which soon overtook his guilt-ridden
queen. A near-madness which wrenched from him irrevocably the gift of sleep,
the beneficent sleep which eases the mind and soothes the soul. Of all the
hundreds of lines Li Chang had quoted to Ming-tsu on that long-ago night, there
was one which, with a slight change, had, within the last forty-eight hours
etched its way indelibly into the very fiber of her consciousness:
"Sleep no more! Macbeth doth murder sleep."
But it was her own name that had now usurped the Scottish king's, and taken
his place in the fearful sentence, the death sentence, that had repeated
itself, like a death knell, in her mind's ear, each night since the death of
Liu.
"Sleep no more! Ming-tsu doth murder sleep."
And so, indeed, it had come to pass. For merciful Sleep, when it came at
all to the ruthless young concubine, came accompanied by her frightful sisters
-- Nightmare and Hallucination.
