CHAPTER 87 The Cutting Crotch-rope
Chiang Chan gave his father's stunningly beautiful mistress a moment to
recover from the pain of the fourth needle and to reconsider her plight. But
when it was clear that she was not yet ready to reveal the secret of the missing
jewels, he signaled to his henchmen to begin again.
The nude courtesan was soon treated to a second cycle of blows to her
burning bottom as the Ox's dreadful paddle, Lin's slashing strap, and Dao's
thonged whip fell again and again on her inflamed nether-globes. Her strength,
her ability to endure, was waning now, and it took only another dozen strokes
before a wicked whack from Dao's whip drew yet another scream from the tortured
girl.
Having won the honors, Dao was the first to be able to use the longer,
heavier pins that were slated for the second round, and he decided to attack
Ming's-tsu left breast, which had so far escaped the flesh-piercing needles.
As Dao's powerful hands moved closer to her ripe-nippled breast, Ming-tsu
trembled perceptibly. Chiang Chan had spoken the truth earlier - the second
needle of each color was indeed noticeably longer. She shrank back from Dao's
hostile hands to the slight extent that the Bondage of the Seven Cords would
permit.
"No, you don't!" Dao snarled. "Stick those tits out for me, wench, or by
the sword of Genghis Khan, they'll be wearing more needles than a mountain
evergreen!"
Ming-tsu took her eyes off the approaching needle and glanced up to see
Dao's homely face leaning over her, his tongue protruding with loathsome lechery
through one of the gaps in his discolored teeth.
" 'STICK 'EM OUT!' I said," Dao roared. Then he snapped backward over his
shoulder, "Boy, maybe you'd better stir that fire. This wench needs to learn
how to follow orders!"
Ming-tsu had nearly forgotten the smoldering brazier on the other side of
the dungeon and its dreadful tools -- slender instruments that could torture
with a surgeon's precision, and cruder, heavier tools that seemed more
appropriate to the trade of a butcher or a carpenter. There had been thin,
dirk-like daggers, an instrument with an inch-wide blade that seemed no more
threatening than a kitchen spatula -- save for the fact that it was sizzling
hot. There were bladed knives, and chisel-like tools, fiendish pincers and
flesh-gripping tongs -- each capable of being used with indescribable cruelty on
soft female flesh.
Ming-tsu listened to the stirring of the hot coals and the forbidding clang
of metal against metal while Lin turned the implements on the smoky grill. "No!
...No! ... Stop ... I'll do it! ...I'll do it!"
Petrified beyond reason by the fear of being branded, Ming-tsu, tried to
look over Dao's shoulder, anywhere but at the dreadful needle or at his ugly
face. She pulled at her wrist ropes hoping that that increased tension would
help her to stay in position, that it would prevent her from giving in to her
natural, but punishable, impulse to pull away from the torturer's needle.
"There.... That's better, sweetie. Now take a nice deep breath for uncle
Dao. I wanna see those juicy tits riding nice and high on your chest, baby!'
The sulfurous smell of branding irons in her nostrils, Ming-tsu closed her
eyes and took a deep breath. She heard Lin whistle softly, and then his
high-pitched babbling voice. "Oh, fuck! Look at those tits! Give it to her,
Dao! Jab her good!"
Dao's eyes were glued to the rounded splendor of Ming-tsu's nude
lust-mounds and their dark-burnished breast-tips. The thug licked his dry lips
as a barely perceptible vein pulsed nervously in her left breast, as if that
lovely globe had some mystical foreknowledge that its perfection would soon fall
victim to the inescapable needle. "I bet they didn't have any wenches like this
out in those god-forsaken mountains of yours, did they, boy? This is some
choice Shanghai girl-meat, this is. Fit for the emperor himself."
It was true, Chiang Chan thought to himself as he admired the golden,
sweat-drenched body of their prisoner, her slender arms extended to the fullest,
her shamelessly spread legs naked save for the hempen bands that bit deeply into
her well-curved thighs. Ming-tsu was indeed a beauty worthy of the ruler of the
Manchu Dynasty.
Chiang Chan watched Ming-tsu's upper body jerk suddenly as Dao gripped the
silken-haired concubine's breast in his left hand as he positioned the needle,
tip downward, directly above the middle of the upslope of her left breast, not
far from her chest wall. He slowly lowered the needle until it pressed against
Ming-tsu's defenseless pleasure turret. He held it there for a long moment
before piercing her flesh with a quick downward move of his hand. When he did,
Ming-tsu's bronze-tipped nipple-buds seemed to vibrate with pain in the hellish
glow given off by the torchlight.
"Nnnnnnghhhghhhhh," Ming-tsu gritted her teeth, knowing that there was
worse to come.
Dao took his time inserting the green-headed pin into Ming-tsu's proud
left breast, protracting as long as possible the enviable pleasure of sliding
its daggered point downward into his luscious target. Ming-tsu would not have
thought that anything could hurt more than the four needles the Scorpions had
used during the first round, but she was badly mistaken. By the very fact of its
being slightly larger in circumference, the tip of the new needle was not as
keen as those of the first set. It took more pressure to insert it. Pressure
which Dao was only too pleased to apply.
When at last the needle was buried hilt-deep in her breast, the four
Scorpions paused for a moment to regroup and enjoy the spectacle of the
beautiful concubine struggling futilely against the bondage that held her fast,
the needle hilts in her right breast twinkling faintly in the torchlight like
dying skyrockets. Her entire body was bathed in a most alluring glow of
perspiration, as if some demi-god of lechery hand had taken a damp, dripping
sponge and passed if lovingly, luxuriously, over her nudity, lingering longest
on her moisture-kissed breasts, buttocks, and loins.
Ming-tsu could make out Dao only faintly in the great mirror. He was
standing behind her, his eyes riveted on the buttock-splitting seventh cord in a
way that sent shudders through her tormented body. In front of her, the
dull-witted Ox was staring at her breasts the way a half-starved Chinese beggar
might stare at a plump, juicy duck roasting on a spit. Lin the Drooler stood
along side him, nudging the burly giant with his elbow and chattering excitedly.
"She's not calling anybody 'scum' now, is she boys?" the teenager taunted
her. "You're going to learn some manners today, slut!"
"Yeah," Dao joined in with a lecherous grin, "A little Scorpion etiquette."
When Ming-tsu shot the wild-eyed young man an angry glance, Lin flushed.
"Did you see that face she gave me, boss? Let me have that rope. I'll teach
her to look at a Scorpion like that!"
Chiang Chan glanced at his hot-headed henchman and gestured for the
youngster to take his place, a few feet in front of the kneeling nude. "Here you
go, lad," he said to Lin as he handed him the end of the Seventh Cord; but hold
it steady until I give you the signal."
Lin tried without much success to hide his displeasure with that turn of
events, but dutifully took the end of the cord, and wrapped it securely around
his wrist as he had seen Chiang Chan do, holding it steady, but not putting
undue pressure on it. But even without any added tension on it, the coarse black
cord had found its way between the soft folds of girl-flesh that had given the
sensuous concubine's paramours such indescribable pleasure.
"Let us see if that moment of rest has caused our lovely friend to come to
her senses," Chiang Chan said as he retreated into the shadows once again.
Ming-tsu kept a wary, almond-shaped eye on Lin, the lust-crazed teenager
who held the Seventh Cord, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Chiang's
Chan's extended hand move slightly, but meaningfully, in the shadows. Almost
instantanteously, Lin responded to the hand signal by yanking on the hempen
cord, causing it to bite even more deeply into the soft, sensitive flesh of her
labia.
"Aaaahhh!" she groaned softly, as Lin's grin broadened as he tugged at the
crotch-rope, which seemed embedded in the pinkness of her raven- fringed
love-nook
"My uncle is fond of saying that there are no secrets at the Black Pagoda,
Ming-tsu. That a few hours in the convivial company of the Scorpions would
induce a woman to betray her lover, her husband, her father. I trust that you
are feeling more talkative now that you have had an hour or so on our pedestal
to think things over?"
The hand in the shadows moved lower again.
"Aaaaaugghh!!" The rope was rubbing directly against her tender anal nook.
"Please ... don't .. so sore ...."
"Where are the jewels, Ming-tsu?"
" I ... I ... Aaaaghhh!!" The rope sawed through her tenderest flesh like
a hot knife, punishing her vagina and bottomhole at once.
"...don't know ..." she gasped miserably.
While Ming-tsu was still gasping from the pain caused by Lin's vicious tug
on her crotch-rope, Chiang Chan noticed that the complexion of her thighs, which
Dao had tourniquetted with the thigh ropes, had gradually evolved from a
gleaming honey-gold to the throbbing color of a glorious sunset to a blue-tinged
red. Realizing that any further constriction might be dangerous and knowing that
his uncle would hold him responsible if Ming-tsu were permanently injured, he
concluded that the Bondage of the Seven Cords would need to be brought to an end
soon.
On a happier note, Chiang Chan smiled to himself, the indescribably
beautiful front of Ming-tsu's body had yet to feel the sting of the lash ...
********
But there was time surely, for one more pull at the crotch-rope, and one
more cry of anguish.
Through her blinding tears of pain, Ming-tsu watched Chiang Chan step out
of the shadows, his hand still slightly elevated.
"Please ... not again ... it's cutting me in two."
"Where are the jewels, Ming-tsu?" Chiang Chan whispered softly, extending
his hand so that the tortured courtesan would know the price of silence.
Lin wiped a stream of spittle from his lips with his left hand as he
tightened his grip in anticipation of the coming signal.
"I - I don't ... I can't ...."
The hand fell.
"Aaahh!! ... Aaaagghh!!! Stop ... for the love of heaven ... AAIAGHHH!!"
In the midst of her scream, Ming-tsu heard the ghastly creaking sound that
indicated that someone had opened the door that led to the circular staircase.
"There'll be no heaven for you, stubborn slut! And you have not yet seen
the worst of hell!" The distant voice was as bitingly cold as a west wind in
February. A moment later Ming-tsu saw the tall, slender figure of Richard Chan,
draped in his silver mandarin robe, gliding silently toward her across the
dungeon floor.
The Lord of the Scorpions took one look at the darkening coloration of
Ming-tsu's constricted thighs and snapped out an order. "Dao, take her down
from the Pedestal. We shall see how our lovely guest likes the Korean Cross!"
