Chapter 61 The Disobedient Concubine
Even now, as she lay in her steaming bath in the clear and blessed light of
morning, Ming-tsu's recurring nocturnal horrors had not entirely receded. As
she considered her predicament concerning the missing earrings and necklace,
Ming-tsu subconsciously splashed more water on her breasts, as if it were needed
to wash away any traces of blood that still lingered there from her ghastly
dreams.
She had been stalling Mai-Lee, with whom she was on as friendly terms as
possible for two women possessed of such remarkable beauty and selfishness. But
at their last meeting the beautiful Eurasian favorite of Richard Chan had made
it abundantly clear that she was upset that her elegant robe, which Ming-tsu had
borrowed for Liu to wear, had been ruined by Feng's arterial outpouring.
But Mai-Lee's impatience was the least of Ming-tsu's concerns.
The Chans themselves were restless, as well they might be, given the
costliness of the missing pair of diamond earrings and the pearl necklace. Had
not George Chan himself called on her only the night before, demanding their
immediate return?
********
The younger of the Chan brothers had come to Ming-tsu's home unbidden on
the prior evening to inquire about the whereabouts of the jewelry. Although his
face wore, as always, its familiar frozen smile, George had been in a foul mood,
in part because his visit had torn him away from his brother's most stimulating
interrogation of the young and lovely wife of Luk Yee. Neither was George's
mood improved by the fact that he had wagered and lost a very expensive bottle
of wine in the process. But most of all, he was in an evil temper because Mai
Lee's necklace and earrings remained unfound and unaccounted for.
When he had rapped determinedly on her door, Ming-tsu had at first
pretended not to be at home, while she frantically tried to think of a way to
forestall his inquiry. But when he refused to leave her threshold, she became
increasingly apprehensive that he knew that she was at home -- was he having her
watched, she wondered nervously? -- and finally she decided that she had little
choice but to admit him.
Ming-tsu hastily donned intimate apparel that she knew would please him and
then she started for the door. She was about to undo the latch when a sudden
wave of panic passed over her -- she had forgotten the ben wa balls! George
Chan had insisted, ever since the early days of their tumultuous relationship,
that she carry them inside herself whenever she was with him. In her anxiety
over the necklace and the earrings she had forgotten to insert them, but she had
not forgotten -- and never would forget -- George Chan's reaction the only time,
nearly two years earlier, that she had come to him without the two pairs of
metals balls embedded deep in her pelvic channels....
********
Her first visit to George's summer house outside of the city, had occurred
some two years previously. The younger Chan had dismissed his servants for the
evening so that the ganglord might enjoy his dalliance with his tempting new
plaything without fear of being disturbed.
After admitting his scarlet-clad concubine, George Chan had leisurely
poured himself a glass of sherry. Months later she had learned that George had
developed a taste for sherry while at Oxford, and that upon his return to
Shanghai had made arrangements for his agents in the Portuguese enclave of Macao
far to the south, to send him a few cases of the sweet Iberian wine each year.
Later she had wondered if Mai-Lee's father, who had been a Portuguese sailor,
might possibly have taken part in unloading the wine destined for his daughter's
lover's brother's table. Ming-tsu was a girl from a humbly family and little
formal education; but since she had set foot in the world of George Chan she had
made it her business to be curious about everything, in an attempt to keep up
with the wide-ranging interests of the Chans. It had been that curiosity, in
addition to her beauty and sensuality, coupled with an agile mind, that had
cemented her bond with Li Chang.
His smile having grown wider after taking a sip of the robust after-dinner
wine, George had ensconced his stocky maroon-robed body comfortably in an
armchair upholstered in a brilliant blue damask. She had posed for him, just
out of arms' reach, her dark eyes smoldering, her kissable lips curled into a
pout. It was a pose that she deemed to be at once seductive and yet submissive.
She slowly lifted her arms and ran her slender, scarlet-tipped fingers through
her glorious mane of long black hair. It was a motion that she had practiced
before a mirror a hundred times, one that she knew lifted her silk-encased
breasts into bolder prominence.
George's eyes had sparked with lust when he beckoned her closer. Until a
fortnight ago, when he had chanced upon her in a teahouse, she had been only one
of thousands of poor shop-girls in Shanghai. But George Chan had taken note of
the promise of pleasure in her dark eyes, the sensuous way her ripe young body
pressed against her too-tight dress, the feline grace which bespoke her every
movement. They had had a few brief but satisfying sexual encounters since, but
she knew that her future might well depend upon her performance on this, her
first visit to the palatial country home of the powerful gangster/aristocrat.
When she moved within reach, the younger Chan had slid his hands up the
slits in her crimson cheong-sam. She had worn red because she knew that George
liked the way that color brought added luster to her golden skin tones.
His knowing fingers had explored the smooth columns of her splendid thighs
skillfully, caressing, stroking, sqeezing her firm young woman-flesh, while she
had squirmed in pleasure and widened her stance slightly to afford him access to
even more sensitive regions. She had worn no undergarments, in keeping with his
wishes, and soon one of the ganglord's roving hands had slid up to fondle her
tingling pussy.
But as soon as he had thrust two questing fingers into her, his face
darkened.
"What is it, Master" she whispered, as she continued to move her pelvis in
slow, circular motions.
"The ben wa! I do not feel them." There was a hint of suppressed rage in
his voice.
"Forgive me, master. I was in a rush to dress for you after my bath, and I
neglected to insert them. Are you not pleased with my appearance?" she asked
teasingly, trying to change the subject.
George smiled at her darkly, the admiration in his eyes unmistakable.
"Very pleased, my luscious flower. Come with me."
She had preceded him down a richly decorated hallway, marveling at the
beautiful dark woodwork so typical of the homes of the Chinese upper classes,
rolling her hips in an ever-so-slightly exaggerated fashion, as if foretelling
rare and wondrous pleasures when they reached their destination.
But it had been her on whom special treatment was to be conferred on that
long ago evening. ...
George's bed-chamber was a large, somewhat garishly furnished room, which
had been designed and decorated with the sole purpose of stimulating his sexual
appetites. Erotic paintings and tapestries, much like those in his city home,
lined the walls. In the most striking of these, a Siamese beauty, her elaborate
dancing costume cast aside, knelt before the throne of a ruthless-looking Indian
maharajah. Wearing only the golden headress of a Thai temple dancer, the naked
girl's mouth was but an inch away from the swollen member of the be-turbaned
mogul. The dark amber skin of her lower back and sweetly-curved buttocks was
criss-crossed with lurid marks, cruel evidence of how staunchly the brave young
maiden had resisted, before ultimately succumbing to the cruel will of the
tyrant.
Against the wall opposite George Chan's luxurious western-style bed stood
an upright cupboard carved in the same eighteenth-century French style as the
magnificent desk which dominated the den in his home in the city. Ming-tsu
noticed that a tiny silver padlock held the two panels of the cupboard closed.
It was odd, she mused idly, that a man should choose to lock a cupboard in his
private bedroom.
Turning away from the ornate cupboard, Ming-tsu had let her eyes wander
among the rich fabrics and artifacts of the room while George made sure that the
phallus-shaped cream-colored candles in each corner of the room were lit. He
then proceeded to ignite one of the two elegant incense burners in the room;
almost immediately the room began to be flooded with a sweet aroma that
contained hints of clove, mint and other rich spices. Those mood-setting
preliminaries accomplished, George had sat on the edge of the large bed, and
leaned forward expectantly, his dark, slanted eyes caressing her body with a
candidly appreciative gaze.
As if responding to an unspoken command, she teasingly began to remove her
flame-red cheong-sam, unbuttoning it slowly and then slipping it off of her
shoulders, allowing her perfectly-shaped pleasure globes, capped by quivering
dark-bronze nipples, to burst free from their crimson confinement.
George's lips had parted with desire as she moved closer and offered her
breasts to him as if they were the most delectable of dim sum, the Chinese
dumplings often served as appetizers to a main course. She had let George bury
his face in the deep, soft valley between her orange-scented love-melons, while
she eased the tight-fitting cheong-sam down over the tantalizing curves of her
hips.
He had enjoyed the sensual banquet, suckling her ripe-nippled
love-dumplings with his mouth for some time, licking and tasting the delicious
curves of her young breasts with his greedy tongue until they were shiny with
his saliva. Then he had teased her tempting nipples with his lips and tongue
and teeth, until they stabbed the air in excited erection.
She had felt his hands on her bare shoulders then, a firm pressure that
indicated beyond any question that she was to fall to her knees. She did so
gracefully, while George reached over and removed a short round jar from a
nearby nightstand.
Then he sat upright on the bed again, his body language making it clear
that she was to undo his robe.
Her breathing had quickened as she parted the burgundy silk of his robe,
allowing George's cock to spring forth. It was much like the man himself -- not
overly long, but thick and solid and eager for the pleasures of debauchery.
"Mmmmm, Master," she had mewed while licking her lips and cupping his
semen-laden testicles in a soft hand. It is so thick and hard..."
She had reached for his swollen pleasure-shaft with her other hand, but he
had forestalled her. "No," he had whispered, "use this."
He had opened the jar then, revealing a dark, rather bitter-smelling
liquid.
She had given his virile testicles a gentle squeeze and then used her free
hand to reach for the jar.
'No," he stopped her again. "Put it on with your tongue," and his left
hand curled around behind her neck in order to pull her face downward toward the
jar.
"Have I told you that my brother Richard numbers botany among his
interests? This jar contains a remarkable compound, Ming-tsu. Oil of ginseng
root, mixed with a sap-juice distilled from the bark of a tree that grows only
in the rain forests overlooking the Straits of Malacca. As you shall see, the
mixture of the two can double or triple a man's potency and stamina."
Ming-tsu gingerly dipped her tongue into the viscous, bark-colored liquid.
She could vouch for the fact that George Chan's sexual desire and stamina were
in little need of enhancement by aphrodisiacs. But she obediently scooped a dab
of the syrupy love-oil onto the tip of her tongue and then applied it to
George's cock. She started at the base of his cockshaft and then slowly dragged
her pink tongue-tip up his fleshy knob, tongue-painting his man-weapon with the
dark liquid, while he closed his eyes and shivered with sensual pleasure.
It had taken her seven mouth-trips to the jar to fully englaze George's
throbbing member, but by the time she had finished coating George's man-cock
with the dark amber liquid, it seemed to have visibly increased in both length
and girth. While she tongued him, she had continued to gently fondle his
prune-sized testicles with one hand and her own moist pleasure-pit with the
other.
She had been quite beside herself with pleasure when George pulled his
dressing gown together, and pulled the covers off the bed so that he could lay
her warm, naked body on the stark white linen. He had slid a probing finger
into the hairy nest between her lush thighs again, further heightening her
excitement.
Then he had pulled away and said, "It would please me, Ming-tsu, if you
were to pleasure yourself. No, my little flower," he had added a moment later,
when she moved both hand southward. "With your left hand only."
Obediently she had slid the fingers of her left hand between her legs and
touched herself. She had closed her eyes, as she stroked her velvety slit,
paying special attention to her moist clitoris, abandoning herself shamelessly
to the pleasure of her own touch.
She had hardly noticed, or cared, when George had wrapped a red silken
scarf around her eyes, blindfolding her. Nor had she become unduly alarmed when
she felt a silken noose tighten around her right wrist, before being fastened to
the nearest bedpost. When her right wrist was safely secured, she heard her
master walk around the bed, no doubt enjoying the delicious sight of his
golden-skinned lover, her left hand sliding eagerly through her wispy black
nether-curls en route to her girl-cleft, while she writhed in passion on the
white sheets. Then she felt him encircle her left ankle with another silken
loop of fabric, and pinion it loosely to the post diagonally opposite the one to
which he had tied her right wrist.
In the preceding weeks she had gradually become aware that her new patron
had unusual tastes in love-making, so this gentle bondage, which allowed her a
fair amount of freedom of movement, was hardly remarkable. Then she heard his
voice, in measured tones that were husky with desire, tell her that it would
please him if she used her free left hand to caress her breasts.
She complied submissively, stroking her silky-soft breast-flesh and
tweaking her swollen nipples into even greater excitation, while she heard
George puttering around the room, opening and closing drawers. She thought she
heard the faint click of glass upon glass while she slid her
beautifully-manicured hand over the soft skin of her bold-nippled breasts.
She felt the mattress give under the weight of George's body as he returned
to the bed.
And then she felt it.
Between her legs.
Soft, wet, exquisite tonguestrokes on her aroused vulva. The sensation was
delicate and soothing at first, but then she felt the 'paint' left by George's
expert tongue-swipes begin to send incredibles waves of pleasurable excitement
through her love-nook. He was using his tongue to anoint her pleasure-organs
much as she had used hers to stimulate his dark-veined phallus.
She could feel George's breath hot between her trembling thighs. "Do you
like it, Ming-tsu?" George asked in a soft voice, "It is the oil of the coca
plant of South America. No," George continued, as she moved her left hand
toward the juncture of her churning thighs again. "Be patient, little one.
Please continue to caress your breasts. I will let you know when you may touch
yourself there."
She had lain there, moaning softly and oscillating with unrequited lust
while George slid his curled-up tongue between the soft lips of her labia, and
then stabbed it into her love channel itself, as he orally transmitted the
passion-oil to the intensively sensitive tissues of her vagina. Still stroking
the lust-stiffened pleasure buds of her perfect breasts, she felt his tongue
withdraw from her pussy. Then there had been a brief pause before she felt the
gentle touch of his newly-moistened tongue-muscle daubing her throbbing clitoris
with yet another dose of the tropical topical stimulant.
"Ummmmm, Master," she moaned. She had lain there in a rapturous sexual
paradise, the fingers of her free hand trapping, tweaking, squeezing her
distended nipples, while exquisite sensations such as she had never felt before
thrilled the very core of her feminine being. She reached yearningly to fondle
her hot, moist love-nest, which ached for the sweet release the touch of her
hand would bring, but again George forestalled her, whispering, "No, not yet.
Soon, my passion-flower."
She thought she would die of frustration if she could not satisfy the
aching longing in her aroused genitalia, but she did as her master bid,
contenting herself with caressing the soft curves of her breasts and the rigid
tips of her love-nipples.
As she did so, she felt the bed spring up slightly beneath her, indicating
that George had stood up. A few moments later, a fresh wave of incense began to
becloud her nostrils. But while the earlier scented haze had been one of
sweetness and spice, this new incense, from the second burner in the room, was
harsher, more acrid, almost sulphurous.
"Ah, much better," she heard George Chan mumble to himself, as he finished
tinkering with the second incense-burner. A moment later she heard the sound of
metal against metal. The sound, perhaps, of a key being turned in the silver
padlock on the cupboard door? Then there was the creaky sound of a door opening
on a poorly-lubricated hinge.
A moment later she felt something soft touch her woman-nook again. But not
a tongue, this time, although the touch remainded damp. She had felt her
clitoris swell with renewed passion at this second touch, which, she soon
sensed, was the touch of an artist's brush, a brush that applied the 'paint'
more liberally than George's tongue. As she squirmed with delight, she felt as
if the great medieval painter, Tung Yuan, were painting a miniature erotic
masterpiece on the beautiful pink canvas of her private parts. Within moments
the artist's brush had re-anointed her hyper-stimulated genitalia.
Only then did she hear George Chan softly whisper the words that her
sensually-charged body had been aching to hear. "Now, Ming-tsu. Now you may
caress yourself."
"Thank you, Master," she breathed throatily as her free left hand flew
between her legs to caress the sweet lips of her labia and the smooth walls of
her pleasure-nook, before coming to rest on her throbbing clitoral bud.
The soft, fondling touch of her hand on her pussy was paradise itself. For
perhaps five seconds. And then she realized that there was something wrong,
dreadfully wrong. A new sensation had replaced the delicious tingling between
her legs.
"Does the second coating not please you quite so much?" George's voice had
changed. It was still low, but now there was a mocking edge to it. "Since you
so carelessly forgot to insert the ben wa that I explicitly ordered you to wear
whenever you are with me, I felt it only proper that you should have a new
sensation to replace them. How do you like it?"
It had only been ten seconds since the brush had been lifted from her most
intimate flesh, but already Ming-tsu felt the embers of a conflagration
beginning to burn brighter between her soft, sensual legs.
"The second 'paint', Ming-tsu, is a mixture of the oil of Tien tsin chilis
-- you have seen their red pods in dishes prepared in the Szechuan style, have
you not? -- combined with the juice from a plant called urtica dioica -- the
English call it stinging nettle."
Ming-tsu was hardly listening to this informative dissertation. Her
botanical garden of desire was on fire. The fingers of her left hand clawed at
the raging flames between her legs, trying to dampen its heat.
"The burning sensation you feel comes from the chilis. Their oil is
hellishly hot, is it not? Particularly if the skin is broken. I hope that our
rather rough love-play the other night did not abrade your delicate tissues too
much?" he said with a faint sneer.
"Ooooouuuhhhhhhh." Her moans were soon as loud as her movements were
shameless. She remembered how George had ravished her two nights earlier,
seizing her legs and forcing them painfully back over her head and then, using
the leverage afforded by his dominant position, pounding his virile manhood
downward into her vulnerable body with a pleasurable but punishing ferocity that
had taken her quite by surprise. Her tender pussy was still sore from his
abusive love-making and the incendiary potions he had just brushed on her quim
had rekindled those flames. Her sensitive vagina felt like a caldera assailed
by seething lava.
She had strained at the silken bonds which imprisoned her wrist and ankle,
for George had provided enough slack to give her freedom to twist and turn on
the bed -- an effect, she mused ruefully in her blindfold, which had no doubt
been anticipated and permitted because it contributed to her masters voyeuristic
pleasure. She imagined, quite correctly, that he was standing above her,
stroking his thick, fleshy broadsword while taking pleasure from her lascivious
wrigglings.
Desperate to free herself, so that she could find a way to soothe the
dreadful burning, she turned sideways and tried to use her left hand to loosen
the silken cord which imprisoned her right wrist.
But she had no sooner touched the knot, when she heard a tell-tale
Whisssshhhh! Followed instantaneously by the resounding CRACCKKK!! that
accompanied a searing pain that coursed through her firm young buttocks.
"Aaaaaughhhh!!' she had cried out, but her strangled cry of agony was
interrupted by another
Whissssshhhh!! CRACKKK!!
"Eeaaaaghhhhh!!" Her bottom exploded in pain again, and she rolled over on
to her back again to protect it from her master's sudden wrath. Whatever it was
he had struck her with had no doubt come from the cupboard that she had heard
being unlocked.
"I do not think, Ming-tsu, that I gave you permission to undo your bonds?"
"Please ... I ... I ... am sorry, Master.
"As well you should be. I hope that my cane has disabused you of any such
notion?"
"Y-yes, Master. But it ... aaahhhhhh! ... it itches ... and burns!"
"Like the breath of three dragons, I am told. Excellent! For tonight we
are studying the properties of certain plants, are we not? The itching that
you feel," George continued, "comes from the juice of the nettles. Is it not
amazing how quickly its effect takes hold?"
There was no need to convince her; her fingers clawed frenziedly at her
burning pussy.
"Hmmm," George went on, a few seconds later, with a cruel edge to his
voice, "perhaps it was unwise to touch yourself, little one. By doing so, you
seem to have spread the oil, rather than removing it."
"Ooouuhhhhhhhhhh!" she had moaned, forgetting herself. "You bastard!"
Whisshhh!! THWUCCCKKK!! "AAIIAARGGHH!!"
"You forget yourself, my lovely concubine. Is that any way to speak to
your Master?"
The whippy cane had sliced her just above the proud centers of her nude
breasts, lacerating the upper edges of her soft brown areolae with a thin
lightning bolt of pain, and opening up a thin, red-edged gash that curled around
the outer slope of her left breast.
"It strikes me, Ming-tsu, that it is perhaps unwise for a woman to speak so
boldly to her master, when her breasts are so exposed to his retaliation. Is it
not so?"
"Y-y-yes Master ... I'm sorry ... please ... don't hit me there aga ..."
THWUCCKKK!! "AAIAAAEEEIAAHH!!"
He'd caught her flush on her aroused nipple-tips with the second
cane-stroke, sending her into fresh paroxysms of agony.
"It is I who will decide where you are struck, Ming-tsu, and how many times
you are struck. You would do well not to forget that."
Her nipples now aflame from her master's vicious cane-cuts, she had
squirmed feverishly atop the sheets, still desperately trying to soothe the
ghastly burning between her legs.
George Chan had waited until she had been utterly obsessed by the fire
between her churning thighs. It was at that precise moment, that she felt
George's brush, newly moistened, gently applying its diabolical venom to the
thin gash in her left breast that his withering cane stroke had just opened.
As soon as she felt the burning sensation on her breast, her free left hand
came up from its nest between her legs to slap frantically at his wrist, but the
only effect of her blow was to drive the brush against her other breast. George
seized upon that serendipitous moment to daub an inch-long chili-laced 'X', on
her right breast, with the two slanted lines intersecting precisely on the tip
of her aroused nipple.
As Ming-tsu writhed in redoubled misery, George spoke again. "My brother
tells me that it would take the bites of six dozen mosquitoes to equal the
effect of the juice of four nettle leaves. Would you not agree?"
"Y-y-yessssss! Oouuuhhhhhhhhh" Ming-tsu moaned as her honey-gold body
thrashed around wildly on the white sheets in a futile attempt to quench the
horrible burning. She rolled over on her stomach so that she could rub her
inflamed genitals and her burning breasts against the sheets, hoping to cleanse
them of the toxic unguents. Unfortunately, by doing so, she transferred only a
small portion of the oil to the bed-clothes, which did little to assuage her
suffering. Then, when she rolled over again, her back and buttocks came into
contact with the oil that had been transferred to the sheets, further
compounding her plight.
George Chan had let her splendid young body writhe in misery on the white
sheets for what seemed like hours but which in actuality had only been the
longest thirty minutes of her life, until the potency of the chili/nettle potion
had begun to wane. Then he had tied her free wrist to the the other bedpost and
thrown a heavy cotton quilt over her naked body, so that he would not come in
contact with the burning oils. She heard him slip out of his wine-dark robe,
and climb back up on top of the quilt, before straddling her body and inching
forward until she felt his knees on her shoulders and his swollen testicles
dangling above her lips.
He had removed the blindfold then, so that he might enjoy the look in her
eyes while he forced her to worship his lust-sodden, hair-covered balls with her
moist lips and tongue for long minutes, even as his own thick fingers slid back
and forth along his drug-darkened cock. At one point, when her energy flagged,
he had threatened to tint her sensitive anus with the carmine juice of the dark
red chilis if her efforts did not improve. The thought of such an excruciating
fate quickly rekindled her eagerness to properly stimulate his hairy ball-sac
with her warm mouth.
When he could bear this delicious oral foreplay no longer, George edged
backward slightly on her chest and then slid his thick, manly penis between her
soft lips, forcing her to tease its bitter-tasting tip with her pink tongue.
Despite the torment of the burning oils, she had learned much about pleasing a
man with her mouth that night. How to use her tongue to caress the very tip of
his cockhead, how to swirl his manhood around in her mouth, so that his swollen
phallus could feel the gentle pressure of the top of her mouth, the pleasant
touch of her suction-flattened cheeks and the warm, fleshy canyon of her throat
in turn. She learned to relax her throat so that her master could thrust his
manly organ so deeply into her oral cavern that his heavy balls smacked against
her pretty chin.
Seizing opportunity from calamity, she had studied George's expression as
she pleasured him, learning which oral caresses, in which sequences pleased him
most. As the night wore on the second son of the House of Chan had rewarded her
fellatious efforts with a week's worth of incredibly powerful orgasms, pumping
globule after juicy globule of Scorpion-nectar down her sweet throat in an
awesome barrage of ejaculation. By the end of the long, pain-filled, but
ultimately rewarding evening, her erotic artistry had so enslaved George's
passions that her eventual rise to the status of his number one concubine had
become a near certainty.
