Chapter 62 Stern Warning: A Visit From George Chan
Chapter 62 Stern Warning: A Visit From George Chan
It was the memory of that harrowing but ultimately momentous evening that
caused Ming-tsu to remove her hand from the door-latch and rush back to her
bed-chamber to find and insert the ben wa balls, whose omission had once nearly
cost her dearly.
Trembling with nervousness, Ming-tsu came back to admit George Chan a few
moments later, mumbling the flimsy excuse that she had been lying down. She had
come to the door in an emerald green dressing gown belted at the waist, but
after unlatching the door she had fallen to her knees submissively on the floor,
in a posture that she knew pleased him.
When George Chan pushed the door ajar, he found Ming-tsu kneeling on her
haunches before him, her robe open at the bodice, revealing a brief, low-cut,
pale green chemise. The dark green negligee, cut in the French style of which
he was so fond, had also fallen away from her bare thighs, leaving them gold
and gleaming in the soft light that radiated outward from the caramel-colored
candles in each corner of the room.
The chemise had been one of George Chan's first gifts to her, and by
putting it on and wearing it -- for however briefly -- she hoped to distract him
from the subject of the missing jewels. George's tongue snaked out of his mouth
to moisten his smiling lips when he caught sight of the revealing garment. The
frothy chemise was the color of a tranquil sea and as substantial as the first
spider web of spring, its near transparency drawing attention to the curves and
hollows of Ming-tsu's exquisite body rather than concealing them.
For a long moment the younger Chan let his almond-slitted eyes feast on the
luscious, dark-crested, honey-gold mounds that jutted so provocatively against
the diaphanous wisp of silk. From there his gaze swept downward, to where the
dark green robe gathered at his beautiful concubine's trim waist and rounded
hips, and then down over the long, sensuous legs which peeked out from the
gaping dressing gown.
"How may I please you, Master," Ming-tsu whispered breathlessly.
But despite the salacious leer that had taken possession of George Chan's
face, his eyes were not smiling. They were as hard and as cold as the frozen
heights of Kang Rimpoche, the fabled Mountain of Precious Snow in Tibet. In the
dim candlelight the pupils of his oval eyes seemed to dilate with a serpentine
menace.
Despite Ming-tsu's submissive welcoming gesture, George had refused even to
take a seat. "Ming-tsu," he had said, "I do not know what kind of game you
think you are playing with the jewels of my brother's concubine. But if you
believe that you can take advantage of my fondness for you by appropriating the
property of the House of Chan you are mistaken." The way the barrel-chested
ganglord in the European-cut business suit hissed the word 'fondness' stripped
the word of every vestige of its customary meaning. "Very much mistaken."
Frightened by his tone, she looked up at him, and whether by some strange
play of light and shadow or whether by dint of her over-active imagination, for
a moment his smiling, iron-jawed face seemed to have been transformed into the
fearful visage of the Smiling Mask who had tortured her in her dreams the night
before.
Chan reached down and grabbed a handful of Ming-tsu's raven hair with his
left hand and pulled her to her bare feet as she winced with pain at his
roughness.
"I have been very patient with you on this matter," George continued, "and
I have urged my brother to do likewise. But his patience -- and mine -- is
nearly exhausted."
When Ming-tsu tried to stammer a response, Georg interrupted her. "Do you
have the pearls to give me now?"
"No, but..."
George Chan struck Ming-tsu sharply across the face with an open hand,
stunning her and sending her sprawling to the floor on her side, her long legs
protruding nakedly from her open robe. The dark-eyed beauty lay there, her
opulent breasts heaving from the shock of the blow, before lifting a dainty hand
to the corner of her sensuous mouth and wiping away a thin trickle of blood.
"I don't want 'but's', woman, I want the pearls. Get up!"
Seeing the raw hostility in the cold eyes behind the deceptive smile on
George Chan's face, Ming-tsu hesitated for a moment. The fallen concubine looked
up at her lover fearfully as he towered over her prostrate form. Behind him the
candles contrived to cast his dark shadow against the far wall, ominous and
predatory. Ming-tsu clambered to her knees, and gave George her most seductive
smile, a smile that promised untold carnal pleasures. "Master," she purred ...
George drove his leather shoe into the soft flesh of her flank as she
winced in pain. " 'Get up', I said."
Nervously eyeing George's tight-clenched fists, Ming-tsu rose to her feet.
Throwing caution to the winds she met George's frosty glare and slowly slipped
the dark green dressing gown off her rounded shoulders and let it drift into a
silken pool at her feet. She stood there, clad only in the low-cut chemise,
never taking her eyes from George Chan's face. But his eyes were elsewhere --
drawn irresistibly to the brazen breasts that pressed so shamelessly against the
fishnet gauze, and the delicious nipples that so audaciously dented the sheer
fabric.
The younger son of Jiang Shao Chan ran his eyes over the lush curves of
Ming-tsu's body with the licentious arrogance one would expect from the prince
of a criminal dynasty. Then he moved closer to her, so close that she could
feel his breath warm on her face. "If the jewels are not back in the Black
Pagoda in twelve hours," George whispered as he slid his right hand inside the
pale green bodice of Ming-tsu's low-cut chemise and cupped her left breast, "I
will no longer be able to protect you from my brother's wrath."
At first George's hand felt strong and manly on Ming-tsu's flesh. In the
belief that her charms were having their customary effect, Ming-tsu responded
passionately to the feel of his skillful fingers on her soft, sensuous breast,
throwing back her head and gasping with pleasure. The younger Chan lowered his
face to hers and crushed his lips down on her warm, inviting mouth, tasting the
blood on her lip. Ming-tsu explored his tongue with her own as she felt her
sensitive nipple swell under his virile touch.
But as the pressure of his lips on hers increased, so did his grip on her
thrusting goblet of flesh. Within moments George Chan's hand had closed on
Ming-tsu's breast with crushing force, bringing tears to her eyes and a soft
moan of pain to her lips.
George Chan pulled his mouth away from hers but did not let up on the
pressure. Ming-tsu was still moaning when he continued, "You of all people,
Ming-tsu, should know how ill-advised it would be to try to ... exploit my
affection for you," he said through clenched teeth as he tightened his steely
grip on Ming-tsu's throbbing love globe, and pushed her two steps backward until
the back of her head bumped heavily against a wall. Seeing the burgeoning panic
in Ming-tsu's eyes, he added in a harsh whisper, "And please do not be so
foolish as to try and run away. I have a man watching the house. If you make
an attempt to flee, you will be followed. And caught. And brought to me."
Holding her slender throat with his left hand, the barrel-chested ganglord
removed his rapacious right hand from her bodice. He leaned over to a nearby
table and picked up a gilded Persian letter opener which Ming-tsu had used only
minutes before his arrival. He held the pointed object before her face, letting
the candle-light play on the golden metal. Then he slid the letter-opener
slowly down her left-cheek, down across her jaw, and then further downward
still, until the tip of the gold-plated implement was pressed firmly against the
hollow of her throat.
Paralyzed with fear, Ming-tsu stood silently trembling while George slid
the letter opener further downward, across her collarbone, and then slowly down
across the sheer, sea-green silk which failed so miserably to shield her left
breast from his lascivious gaze. Using the tip of his makeshift knife, Chan
lifted the lacy upper edge of the low-cut chemise, and gently dragged it
downward, revealing first the kissable rim of Ming-tsu's soft brown aureole,
then her thrusting brown love-nugget, and in due course the entirety of her
succulent breast.
With his left hand still holding her tightly by the throat, George Chan
pressed the tip of the letter opener firmly into the underside of Ming-tsu's
dark brown nipple-tip, both lifting it and pushing it inward. Afraid to exhale,
Ming-tsu stood utterly motionless as her smiling assailant twirled the faux
knife-tip against her tender breastflesh, and then she breathed an inward sigh
of relief when he lowered the letter opener and traced a path down the mid-line
of her belly. George paused to jab at her recessed navel through the green silk
for a moment, before continuing southward across the gentle rise of her mons,
and then lower still, until the golden blade was pressed firmly against the wisp
of celadon fabric that enshrouded Ming-tsu's woman-cleft.
Ming-tsu shook her head frantically from side to side, imploring him to
stop, but with a swift flick of his wrist, George inverted the implement and
slowly pushed the dull end of the silk-sheathed implement into her as she held
her breath, frozen in fear. When he felt and heard the faint click of the
letter-opener against the outer ben wa ball, he smiled grimly and eased the
slender implement out of Ming-tsu's vagina as she breathed a long, slow sigh of
relief.
She felt twin beads of fear-induced perspiration trickle down her fine
cheekbones. "Master, please. I did not ta..."
"I do not want words, Ming-tsu," George Chan interrupted her with a
menacing growl. As he lifted his right hand he repositioned his fingers around
the handle of the letter-opener, until he held it in his fist in a downward
stabbing grip. Ming-tsu never took her almond-shaped eyes off the blade as he
lifted it up to face level before slamming it violently into the wall an inch
from her quavering throat. "I want diamonds!"
Then, leaving the tip of the blade buried in the wooden wall, George Chan
turned on his heel and headed for the door through which he had come. When he
reached the door he spun around and spat the words, "Do not forget, number one
concubine. Twelve hours!" to his terrified lover as her lovely body slowly
slumped downward to the floor, quaking like an autumnal leaf in a November
breeze.
