Chapter 89 The Art and Science of Pain
Richard Chan's threat to unleash the whips of the Scorpions on her tender
breasts sent a wintry chill racing through Ming-tsu's nude and helpless body.
Her shudder of apprehension caused the Korean Cross to sway back and forth
gently in the eerie torchlight.
Dao strolled around to stand behind her so that he might enjoy the rear
view of Ming-tsu's naked body kneeling in the air, her arms forced painfully
backward over the crossbar and cinched together at elbows and wrists. The two
black tit-scraps that fit snugly across her back contrasted nicely with her
golden flesh-tones and the chaste white cords that bound her to the cross. Her
legs were doubled up behind her, with sturdy ropes forcing her ankles to stretch
upward toward the bar to which they were bound. A final indignity was the pair
of white toe-cords that looped her big toes securely to the crossbar, thus
giving her toes the point of a ballerina's. The severe tension on her legs gave
her rosy, well-flogged buttocks, partially obscured by her bare feet, a most
enticing curvature, even as it had given the fronts of her supple thighs a
magnificent tautness.
Torchlight and shadows played over Richard Chan's countenance giving it a
satanic cast as he addressed his helpless captive. "So, tell me, my covetous
courtesan, what do you think of the newest additions to my collection?" Richard
Chan asked his brother's concubine, gesturing toward the extensive array of
evil-looking rubber whips, straps, and paddles.
The soft skin of Ming-tsu's back, her svelte legs and her shapely buttocks
had already felt the stinging kiss of many of Chan's instruments of
flagellation. "They ... they are most effective, sire." Ming-tsu responded in a
ragged voice, silently praying that a feigned docility might help to minimize
her suffering. And indeed the various instruments had set much of her flesh
aflame. But it was her tortured bottom that had taken the worst beating; though
she could not see it, she felt sure that her derriere was scarlet from the many
withering strokes she had endured on the Pedestal of Pain. The Scorpions had
whipped her with such severity that she had had to grit her teeth to keep from
crying out when Dao's rough hands had fondled the curves of her buttocks a few
minutes earlier.
"And yet, you should be grateful that my instruments of discipline have
left your flesh almost free of marks," Richard Chan continued, as he draped the
attenuated thongs of the Triple Hydra over Ming-tsu's outthrust breasts. "You
ARE grateful, are you not?"
"Yes," Ming-tsu whispered in a trembling voice.
" 'Yes', what, wench?" Chan snarled as he slashed the many-tailed flogger
sharply across Ming-tsu's jutting, naked breasts.
"Aaaghhh!" Ming-tsu gasped, taken off guard by the swift, sudden lash that
seemed to splash thin streams of scalding lava onto her jutting love-turrets.
"Yes, sire," Ming-tsu corrected herself, as she tried to maintain eye contact
with her imperious captor, even as she tried to keep her voice as meekly
submissive as she could make it.
"You are most welcome," Chan replied, bowing with mock courtesy. Then he
glanced at Chiang Chan. "Nephew. I must compliment you on your choice of the
straps," Richard Chan volunteered as he continued to slide the Triple Hydra back
and forth over Ming-tsu's smarting breasts. "A marvelous conception, truly."
"Thank you, uncle," Chiang Chan murmured gratefully as he bowed in return.
The erotic effect of the tight-fitting tit-straps just above and below
Ming-tsu's succulent breasts had surpassed his wildest expectations. The
constricting horizontal straps, cut from jet-black leather, compressed his
father's lover's breasts slightly. The gentle inward pressure did not flatten
her close-set breasts; rather it accentuated their plumpness, making her
ever-inviting love-melons even more desirable. The flickering flambeaux mounted
in the nearby pillars bathed the sumptuous curves of her breasts in a warm glow,
and caused the five sparkling needle-hilts that the Scorpions had plunged into
her breasts to twinkle seductively.
But it was not the glimmering needles that transfixed Ming-tsu's
voyeuristic captors -- it was her bold-thrusting treasures themselves. They
were the breasts of a goddess of desire, rich and full, lacquered with the
pleasing varnish of female perspiration. The raven-haired concubine's gorgeous
pleasure-mounds were capped by two delicious concentric circles; Ming-tsu's
semi-stiff nipples seemed to have been dipped in rich, dark cinnamon and then
mounted on areolae that were dimpled like midsummer raspberries.
Chiang Chan's cock throbbed with lustful pleasure at the realization that
Ming-tsu's mouthwatering love-melons were utterly at the mercy of he and his
malicious comrades. It had been one thing for he and his men to put their
Pit-slave, Ci-ci, a pretty adolescent, through her paces; quite another to
practice their sadistic arts on the magnificent body of his father's mistress.
Richard Chan was speaking once again. "Just as I am grateful to Chiang Chan
for thinking of the tit-straps, I am in your debt, as well, Ming-tsu. Can you
guess why?" the tyrant of the Black Pagoda asked her in the rough, raspy voice
of a man consumed with sadistic lust.
"N-no, sire. I cannot say."
CRACCKKK!! The silver-robed right arm of Richard Chan swept the
multi-tailed Hydra into the delicious curves of Ming-tsu's breasts again. As
the whip landed Chan marveled at how the courtesan's lust-goblets could be both
deliciously firm and yet delightfully yielding all at once.
"Mmmmmnngggg!" Ming-tsu murmured as she recoiled in pain, while she
continued to meet Richard Chan's icy gaze. She could not bring herself to look
down at her breasts to assess the damage done by the Hydra. It felt as if Chan
had taken a leaf-rake and scraped it across her sensitive love-globes.
She realized now, as had a thousand young women before her, that the
slenderness of the Lord of the Scorpions masked a wiry strength. She gritted
her teeth as flames of pain licked at the contours of her breasts, ever-mindful
that the cruel tyranny of the needles was still very much in force. A cry of
anguish would only lead to more suffering.
"The reason I ask, you see, is that while my brother and I have tested one
or two of these instruments of torment," Chan gestured at the dark pile of whips
and straps, "on an enchanting Japanese pillow-girl only a few nights ago, we
were remiss in not using them on her breasts."
Chiang Chan's thoughts harkened back to Kyoto, the exquisite courtesan that
the German baron had flogged with Richard Chan's new invention.
Richard Chan's eyes were dark and sinister, his voice a harsh whisper.
"And thus I am grateful to you, Ming-tsu, for helping us to rectify that
oversight now. We shall learn together, whether they can be used without
causing lasting scars."
Ming-tsu swallowed with difficulty. Each moment seemed to bring her nearer
to disaster.
The Lord of the Scorpions leaned closer studying the marks the Triple Hydra
had left on Ming-tsu's dark-tipped pleasure-mounds with microscopic care.
"You will be pleased to learn that so far all looks well -- there is a
redness, quite an attractive redness, in fact, as is only to be expected, and
some faint striations, but that is all."
When Ming-tsu finally summoned up the courage to glance downward she was
astonished to discover that the lashes of the Hydra, which felt as if they had
shredded her breast-flesh with lacerating force, had not even broken the skin.
As Richard Chan had suggested, his unholy inventions were productive of pain,
agonizing pain, but not of blood.
"Very appealing striations, I might add. Don't you agree, Dao?" Richard
Chan added with a sardonic sneer.
Chiang Chan watched Dao's discomfiture with a wry smile. The bare-chested
Scorpion clearly was no more concerned with the nuances of 'striations' than he
would have been with the scrolls of Mencius.
"Aye, sire. If you say so," Dao grunted, uncaring about such details. Why
should he trouble himself with such things? As Dungeon-master of the Black
Pagoda, was his not the most enjoyable and enviable job in Shanghai? The way he
saw it, it was his job to administer pain to the bodies of prisoners and it was
his pleasure to administer pain to the bodies of young, attractive female
prisoners. He was content to leave the finer points to those who concerned
themselves with such things.
"As I started to stay, Ming-tsu," Richard Chan continued in his most
professorial voice, "I am grateful that you have volunteered to assist me in my
... pursuit of knowledge." The brilliant lord of the Shanghai underworld smiled
as he slowly slithered the voluminous tails of the Triple Hydra upward, first
grazing the puffy lips of her vulva, and then sweeping gently across her golden
midriff and over the lower tit-strap before sliding the flogger upward through
the luscious canyon between Ming-tsu's close-set pleasure-mounds. "But there is
much more research to be done..."
"Tell me, wench," Chan asked, his voice as hard and polished as the rounded
stones in the Yang-tze river bed, "have your breasts felt the sting of the lash
before?"
Her throat too dry to speak, her body trembling uncontrollably, Ming-tsu
nodded, 'yes'. As Richard Chan well knew, no mistress of George Chan, however
pleasing to him, could long escape his cruel nature, and no part of a
concubine's body could long escape his twisted desires.
"Speak up, wench, when I address you -- unless you want me to beat an
answer out of you!"
"Y-yes, sire," the voluptuous concubine stammered.
"At the hands of a gentleman, no doubt?"
A furious impulse almost drove Ming-tsu to scream out, "No, at the hands of
your pig of a brother who has abandoned me to you and these filthy jackals!" but
she swallowed her pride and whispered, "Yes, sire ... your brother."
"You will understand, I'm sure, that his were gentle lashes of love
compared to what you can expect at the hands of" Richard Chan paused, and
gestured toward the semi-circle of leering men that hovered around her like
vultures, " 'scum' like this, as you so delicately put it?"
"I told you ... I'm sorry that I ev ..."
Once again the silver-clad arm rose and fell, bringing the cruel flogger
down in a slanting, slicing arc across the ripe upper curves of Ming-tsu's
breasts.
"Nnrrrgghhhh!" Ming-tsu grimaced, clenching her teeth in pain.
"Those were but the first of many, whore, if you do not come to your
senses!" The Tyrant of Shanghai glanced up at the large clock that Ming-tsu had
used to entrap Liu on the The Night of the Tiger. "Nephew, General Wang is due
back shortly. I must leave you for the moment." Then the sinister mandarin
glared down first at Ming-tsu's whip-stung breasts and then at the array of
implements of punishment. His lip curled into a sadistic leer as he muttered,
"Be sure that your research is thorough!" before turning sharply on his heel and
striding toward the door to the staircase.
