Chapter 96 The Fourth Scorpion
As he crossed the dark dungeon toward the scene of the savage rape that had
just been inflicted on Ming-tsu, Chiang Chan noticed the Rock Garden lying on
the ground. Shaking his head disgustedly at his men's disrespect for things of
beauty, Chiang Chan bent and picked up the objet d'art, noting a fresh drop of
breast-blood on the most jagged of the tiny Gibraltars. He cast his eye slowly
over the dreadful instruments of torture that lined the wall of weapons, looking
for the shrine-like niche of honor that housed the Rock Garden, and then
returned the ingenious device to its proper place
The meeting with General Wang had not gone well, once the obligatory polite
introductions had been completed. The stern-looking general, his father, and his
uncle had all seemed to be in a foul temper, but the three men had done little
to bring him up to speed as to the reason for their mutual hostility. They
seemed to have been discussing the future course of the House of Chan, but in
such an enigmatic way that Chiang Chan, who had yet to purge his thoughts of the
thrilling sights and sounds of whips and straps falling on the intoxicatingly
beautiful breasts of the concubine on the Korean Cross, had been unable to
understand fully the points in contention.
Most surprising of all, Richard Chan had curtly cut his father short on two
or three occasions when George had made an abortive attempt to outline the
nature of the dispute to his son. So frosty had the discussion been that his
father's familiar insincere smile had almost entirely vanished from his face by
the time General Wang had left the Black Pagoda half an hour earlier.
Even after the angry-looking general had departed, the tension between his
father and uncle had remained palpable, with George insisting to his elder
brother that Richard's autocratic manner had caused him to lose face before his
son and the general. When they continued to exchange heated words on this
subject, Chiang Chan had excused himself and had gone for a walk to give them
time to sort out their differences in private.
The walk had cleared his head somewhat, but when he had returned to the
Pagoda he noticed that his father's rickshaw was still in its customary place
outside. But his kinsmen were no longer to be found in Richard's den, so he
came to the conclusion that they had patched things up to some extent, perhaps
by deciding to vent their frustrations on the comely captive he had left to the
tender mercies of his three brutish companions.
After speaking briefly with a messenger who had brought word of a possible
sighting of Luk Yee, Chiang descended to the dungeon, half expecting to find his
father and uncle there, and fully expecting that continuing the stimulating
interrogation of Ming-tsu would drive from his mind the unfortunate friction
between the two lords of the Black Pagoda.
But, to his surprise, neither father nor uncle had been in sight when he
had quietly entered the dungeon while Dao was subjecting the dark-eyed beauty to
the rigors of the T-post and the Rock Garden. It was unlike his kinsmen, he
thought, to deprive themselves of such an alluring spectacle. He had waited
silently for them near the doorway for a few minutes before stepping forward to
take part in the continuing torment of the delicious Ming-tsu.
*********
"Hey, boss! Dao greeted him roughly. As the ill-featured Scorpion pulled
his thick, scarlet-stained, semen-smeared organ out of Ming-tsu's heart-shaped
bottom it made a peculiar little sucking sound. "Did ya hear that? Sounds like
she misses me already!" Dao joked crudely to his pals as he tucked his empty
cannon of flesh back into his trousers. "Her asshole's tighter than the ring on
a tax-collector's finger, boss!"
Chiang Chan felt the first stirrings of returning excitement as Dao's big
hand gave Ming-tsu's resilient honey-gold buttocks a resounding smack as he
bellowed gruffly through his yellow teeth, "Isn't that right, wench?"
Ming-tsu's soft moan of pain reminded Chiang of the strange paradox that
had befallen him in the last hour. While he had been with his father and uncle
he had been unable to give their discussion his full concentration because his
thoughts had been on the delicious creature he had left in the dungeon. But
when he had first made his way back to the torture-cellar, he had been unable to
shed the memory of the dispute upstairs and had, at first, remained content to
lurk in the shadows.
Ming-tsu, still facing away from him, had struggled back up to her hands
and knees now. Even in her suffering, Chiang observed, there was a feline grace
to her every movement that gave her soft, succulent body the flowing lines of
the bayaderes, the slim, sensuous south-Asian temple dancers whose erotic
portraits graced the walls of his father's private den.
Lin had fallen into place behind her now, his lust re-kindled, while his
eager fingers fondled Ming-tsu's rounded bottom-globes. Chiang Chan felt his
own erection pulse with vicarious lust as he watched the eager apprentice dig
his nails into her demi-ovals and spread them wide, baring her sweet,
semen-seeping rosebud.
But first, business.
"Did she talk? Has she said anything about the jewels? Or Luk Yee?"
The stern sound of Chiang Chan's voice deflated Lin's ardor somewhat, but
he didn't relinquish his grip on Ming-tsu's buttocks. The three Scorpions looked
somewhat shamefacedly at each other, each waiting for the other to speak.
"Did you even ask, you fools?" Chiang snapped angrily. "It's one thing to
have a little fun with a wench; it's another to forget why you're here! Zheng!
Lin!
Lin, frowning, slapped Ming-tsu sharply across her bare, well-whipped
buttocks as if it had been her fault that he had been derelict in his duty, and
rose to his feet. The two Scorpions, one broad enough to fill a doorway, the
other reed-thin, straightened their clothing as Chiang Chan barked at them.
"Tai Hwang {Chapter 67} sent word a few minutes ago that he thought that he had
spotted Luk Yee on Half-Moon Street, near the docks. Get over to the Pit and
find out how many men are available and report back. I don't want that bastard
to slip through our fingers again!"
As the oddly-paired Scorpions hurried toward the underground passage,
Chiang Chan called after them. "And be quick about it!"
Meanwhile Dao had seized a handful of Ming-tsu's lustrous ebony hair and
pulled her around so that she faced Chiang Chan. The heir to the Black Pagoda
let his eyes wander freely over the luscious body of the golden skinned
concubine who knelt on her hands and knees. In her crouching, kittenish
position, Ming-tsu's breasts resembled a pair of lush tropical fruits at the
peak of ripeness, sweet, rich, juicy, each tipped with a dark, edible stem that
beckoned to a man's lips and teeth. Richard Chan's almost magical rubber
straps and lashes had left their ruddy imprint on her girl-globes, giving
Ming-tsu's golden skin-tones the reddish cast of a late-summer sunset. There
was a drop of crimson nipple-high on the outer curve of her right breast, the
source, no doubt, of the scarlet smear he had seen on the bloody tor in the Rock
Garden.
Ming-tsu had been studying the stern visage of the squadron leader, since
Dao had turned her toward him. She noticed that his eyes, while sparkling with
unmistakable lust were somehow distant, remote, pre-occupied. He was pale,
almost trembling. Something most unusual had happened to him while he had been
away.
As she tried to unravel that mystery, Chiang Chan gestured to his
gaptoothed henchman, and Dao grabbed the dark-eyed concubine by her lustrous
mane and pulled her up and back so that she knelt upright, and then stepped in
front of her and placed a big foot between her knees and administered a series
of swift lateral kicks that spread her knees apart. When he had forced her
knees nearly as far apart as her shoulders, Dao came around behind Ming-tsu
again, seizing her arms and pulling her back onto her wide-spread haunches.
When her tender buttocks were resting on her heels, he planted a bony knee in
the small of her back, and jerked her arms to full extension behind her, giving
her upper body a wonderful concave arch.
Chiang Chan moved closer, his attention drawn to the male nectar oozing
from Ming-tsu's dark-fringed love-cleft, whose lips were still red and inflamed
from the Ox's bestial rape. Chiang's manhood was as hard as a mainmast now, but
he decided that it would not be seemly for him, the son of George Chan, to
follow his minions into either of the lust channels they had plundered so
thoroughly.
His gaze drifted upward to the pair of full, firm, perfectly-shaped breasts
which Dao's knee had forced out and up for his delectation. The shimmering
torchlight of the dungeon caused the brightly-colored hilts of the needles he
and his men had driven into the base of her bold-thrusting lust-globes to
sparkle invitingly. Yes, Chiang Chan decided, as he nodded to himself, it would
be on these sweet, ripe-nippled treasures that he would slake his virile lust.
"I want her on the bench, Dao. On her back!"
