“Hnnn hahhheee! Hnnn hahhheee!” Bo Lien mumbled, in her effort to say, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
This had precisely the same effect as her earlier previous attempt to apologize, which is to say, none. Instead, she felt something new down between her legs. Now added to the pinching which that felt to be threatened cutting her in twain, was a downward pull which bade fair to tear her sensitive parts completely free from her body. Bo Lien threw her head back and howled.
“What you felt first was the little device I picked up in the land of the dwarf bandits, which Chao-Xing was kind enough to demonstrate for you,” Zhao explained as he watched the Lotus fling her head back and forth, as if denying the existence of the pain. “I imagine your sense of propriety was offended when the daughter of a mere Count had the honor of being the first to use it. If so, you will no doubt be relieved to know that you are the first in the household to enjoy the weight attachments for it.”
Zhao had attached a small, heavy, metal cylinder to the wooden clamp on her. The cylinder was hollow, and three-fourths filled with quicksilver, making it unreasonably heavy for so small an object. As the container was not completely full, the liquid metal inside was free to slosh about and thereby add some variety to the suffering of the victim, as the pull would increase, decrease or come from some slightly different angle each time the wearer moved. The top and bottom of the cylinders had little hooks, so that another such container could be attached to the first. At the moment, Bo Lien’s beleaguered sex was supporting two of these tubes of quicksilver. This was what she felt dragging at her private parts, as if they were trying to pluck the stamen from her blossom.
“Now I will begin your correction,” Zhao told the suffering girl. “It will end when you are able to shake the koranpu free. Or perhaps I should say, if you do.” He was now holding a long dog-whip. He flicked the whip experimentally once or twice on the floor to get the feel of it (it was also the first time he had used this training tool), then snapped it underhand up into the pink flesh of her sex.
The Lotus had thought her legs were under such great tension as to be almost completely immobilized. She now discovered her mistake. The cut of Zhao’s whip was like a bolt of lightning striking her girlish parts. She jerked her hips forward, back, and to either side in a blur of motion, which was remarkable both for its speed and as a demonstration of her fine flexibility. The weights depending from the clamp bounced once or twice, making a cheerful ring and each time tugging on her ill-used sex before settling down to rest.
Nothing that she had endured before this moment, not the day-long spankings on the road, not the caning on her sex, not the burning branch, nothing, had prepared Bo Lien for what she suffered over the next, endless half hour. The tip of Zhao’s whip was like a malicious little salamander, ever finding its way to her most delicate places, there to inflict its flames on her. He expertly nipped at her underarms, the soles of her tiny feet, the lips, her sex mound and, most hideous of all, the tenderness of her garden gate.
In spite of her strict bonds, Bo Lien’s body twisted like a crazed serpent, sending the quicksilver weights dancing this way and that, their cheerful, bell-like rings seeming to mock her suffering. In the end, however, the weights were her salvation. For every time her pelvis went into furious motion, the quicksilver-filled cylinders pulled the mesu koranpu to which they were attached a little further down, moving it infinitesimally closer to releasing her. Then, when she was on the edge of exhaustion from her writhing struggles and the nearly unbearable pain, she gave one especially violent shimmy, expending the last of her strength, and the clamp slipped off to fall with a clank to the ground.
Bo Lien was too weary to take any pleasure from her success. She hung in the ropes, her head down as rivers of perspiration gathered and poured off her nose, chin and nipples, waiting to see what Zhao would do. If he resumed the game, she decided that she might well die from simple fatigue, as the punishment had burned through her last reserves of energy. Part of her hoped that he would, as she would welcome a final end to her suffering.
Zhao inspected her, running his hand over Bo Lien’s slick thigh and gleaming breasts before cupping her chin and lifting her head to face him.
“You did not faint this time,” he said. Bo Lien thought she detected a note of grudging respect in his voice. “I do believe you are ready to put aside your pampered, spoiled girlhood and learn to serve as a woman.”
Beaten and broken as she was, the victim of mistreatment she could never have imagined subjecting even the lowest peasant to, at that moment, the Lotus of Yu felt the faint stirring of pride. Many times she had been praised for her great beauty. It meant nothing to her; after all, she was not responsible for her looks. The same was true of her intelligence; she learned writing, history, painting and the other things because they interested her and it was easy. She had inherited her brains quite as much as her beauty, and she was not especially proud of either.
But since she had fallen into the hands of Zhao Hua, she had been made to suffer, to work at being an obedient servant, a thing that did not come naturally to her, to say the very least. Her beauty did not seem to impress him, any more than did her cleverness. He held her in contempt for her weakness and incompetence, and treated her as a child.
But now, he had finally conceded that she might have what was required to serve his needs as his wife, that she might be tough enough to meet his standards. No one had ever before suggested that the delicate Precious Lotus was tough. Starting with that small achievement, she was now determined to remake herself and build a new Bo Lien, one that she could respect. Whatever she achieved in this way would be her accomplishment alone, owing nothing to her parentage but solely the result of her own will and efforts. If slave she must be in all but name, then she would be the very best one in the house. No, she told herself, she would not merely be the best sex slave in the House of Sighs; she would be the best in all the Middle Kingdom. She would show Zhao Hua that he had made no mistake when he chose her to be his wife.
Chapter Ten: The Reward of Service
With a gesture, Zhao indicated that Morning Star should take Bo Lien down from the punishment frame. He also removed the prickly gag from her mouth, not it must be said, without some little difficulty involving the near-dislocation of Bo Lien’s jaw. He then directed the Lotus to sit while Chao-Xing served her tea, until her strength was restored.
“We will begin again where we left off,” he said, “and I will not have you fail to give your best efforts because you were too weak to carry out my instructions. You shall have no excuse if you fail to perform as I require.”
Bo Lien nodded her agreement, and answered, “You shall have nothing to complain of, Master Zhao, I swear it.” After two cups of steaming oolong, she rose and said, “I am ready, honorable sir. You need only tell me what service you require of me, and I will perform it or die in the attempt.”
Zhao did something completely unexpected: he laughed. “I think you mean it, little Lotus, but I will not put the offer of your life to the test, at least not today. At the moment I seek merely a good fuck. Resume your position as before, continue to excite Chao-Xing, and do not forget to keep your bottom high and your holes presented at all times.”
Morning Star returned to the bed and lay back with her thighs spread apart in welcome, as before. Bo Lien crawled up on the bed, and took up her position with her head between the other girl’s legs, her mouth pressed to the petals of Chao-Xing’s blossom and her tongue inside, seeking her stamen.
“I know will be hard for you, sweet Lotus,” Morning Star whispered as Bo Lien ran her tongue over the her friend’s love button, “but I beg you to obey him, for I cannot bear to see you suffer so.”
Bo Lien wanted to tell her that she had meant exactly what she had said, and that she had already made her decision to serve their mutual master without reservation to the limits of her mental and physical abilities. However at the moment, with her lips fastened over Morning Star’s se
x, and her tongue buried in the pungent interior, this was hardly practical. Rather than chance Zhao’s wrath by raising her head to reply, she contented herself with a nod to convey her agreement with Chao-Xing’s counsel.
It did not take her very long to bring Morning Star to a state of high excitement. After a minute or so the recipient of her attentions began to writhe her lower body so uninhibitedly that Bo Lien was obliged to obliged to firmly grip the twin moons of the girl’s buttocks in her hands, simply to keep her mouth in contact.
By this token and by the soft, throat-bound sounds she made, Bo Lien knew that she was pleasing Morning Star, and this made her happy. This much at least I have learned, she told herself. She wondered whether Zhao was aware of her progress, and if he would acknowledge it aloud.
As if he had read her thoughts, Zhao said, “It seems that you have talents beyond those of which rumor has spoken, or else you are the most apt student in this art that I have yet known.” Bo Lien was only barely able to suppress her smile when she heard these words. “Now let us see how you fare when I come to call at your garden gate.”
With this, she felt his fingers at her sex and probing within. She was so surprised at the great burst of sensation that filled her body when his finger merely brushed her, that she gasped and made a quite involuntary sinuous twisting motion of the pelvis in reaction. She had not been nearly so excited before her lovemaking had been interrupted for Zhao’s correction. Perhaps her decision to surrender utterly to Zhao made the difference, or perhaps it was something else, but whatever the cause, the act of bringing Morning Star closer to a great eruption with her tongue was having an almost equally arousing effect on Bo Lien.
Zhao fingers were busy with Bo Lien’s sex, and her hips moved this way and that under his guidance. She closed her eyes to better savor the delicious heat, as she built up to a huge explosion.
Then she groaned in disappointment when the loving digits were suddenly withdrawn. “You will be permitted to come, if your performance merits it, Lotus, and not, if it does not,” Zhao said. “Everything you receive in my house shall be earned, nothing will be given. Do you understand?”
As this was very much in line with Bo Lien’s new philosophy, she handled the disappointment well, nodding her head and mumbling, “Yyyy.” She wanted nothing she had not earned from her own efforts.
Zhao pressed his now lubricated fingers to her rear, spiraling them over and around until they reached the entrance, then thrusting them inside to the knuckle. Bo Lien’s hindquarters jumped and she made a startled exclamation, which was muffled by Morning Star’s body, but she instantly resumed the position.
“You probably do not fully appreciate the trouble I am taking to prepare you,” Zhao commented, as his fingers plunged in and out, rotated side to side and spread apart, loosening and stretching, to Bo Lien’s great discomfort. “There are many men I know who give not the slightest consideration to anything but their lusts, and will cheerfully invade a virgin back entry without any preliminaries, all too often causing damage, when it is actually quite simple to avoid any problem.”
By the end of this little speech, Zhao’s thumb had joined the original two fingers to form a cone that was stretching Bo Lien mightily. The sensation was both painful and terribly intimate, and she was having some difficulty being properly appreciative of his consideration for her. She did not protest, however, but remained as before, patiently enduring, with her bottom raised on high and her comments confined to soft grunts: “Uh, uh, uh…” as he penetrated her.
She had not been paying very much attention to Chao-Xing, having already mastered the art of plying her tongue on her more or less automatically, and was surprised when she heard a loud “Ahhh!” and felt hands on her head, pressing her lips harder against the warm cavity.
“Lick me! Suck me!” Chao-Xing demanded. A flood from her washed over Bo Lien’s face as she exploded in a climax quite as powerful as the first. “Dear Lotus, how I love you!” she exclaimed.
“Prepare yourself, Bo Lien,” Zhao said, while Morning Star continued to ride the crest of her orgasm, the Lotus’ tongue still flicking her.
The three fingers were withdrawn, to be replaced by something softer but much fatter, the head of Zhao’s manhood. Bo Lien remembered seeing his instrument when fully enlarged, and pictured the tiny hole where he proposed to fit it. She came near to panic for an instant: surely the act was physically impossible, and she would be severely punished for her failure, she thought.
After a moment of reflection, however, she decided that Zhao, of all men, would know about these matters, about what was possible and what was not, and certainly he was far better versed in such things than she. All she could do was trust that he knew what he was about, and do everything within her power to accommodate him.
Zhao was holding his rod in one hand to direct it, and using the other to keep Bo Lien in place. As he leaned his weight forward and pressed, he commented, “You have one of the narrowest garden gates I have ever encountered, Lotus. It will be a great pleasure to open it.”
A great pleasure for you, I suppose, she thought. Nothing about the experience thus far suggested that there would be anything especially pleasurable about it for her.
Inevitably, the pressure of his downward thrust became more than her tough little muscle could withstand, and the way opened enough to admit just his tip. But this was enough to cause a sudden collapse of her defenses. In a moment, the eager, questing head of his jade dragon had forced the opening wide enough to admit its full girth, and Bo Lien’s little muscle was obliged to open wide and mold itself around the invader.
Bo Lien felt a sharp, tearing pain, as if her flesh had been ripped (in fact, there was no damage at all; Zhao had prepared her well), followed by a terrible feeling of fullness, a kind of agonizing cramp in her middle, which increased as he delved more deeply into her narrow passage. She suppressed a scream, doggedly continuing to service Chao-Xing with lips and tongue.
“Do you find it pleasing, Precious Lotus?” he asked. “Because I must admit that never have I been gripped more tightly.”
She raised her head and forced her answer out through clenched teeth. “If I please you, Master Zhao, then I have no right to ask more.”
He paused, perhaps half a chi deep in her rear. “That is correct, little one,” he agreed. “That does not mean, however, that I cannot give you more.”
His fingers reached in front of her to take control of her sex again. If she had been sensitive before, she was now ten times more so. Her hips rode up as soon as he touched her, forcing more of his length into her tight corridor.
Bo Lien hardly noticed. She was feeling as if she was about to launch like a skyrocket. “Touch me, Master Zhao,” she begged fervently. “In the name of all that is holy, please just touch me!” The last words were shrieked at the top of her lungs.
“Certainly, my dear Lotus,” he said. He twirled and stroked her a little more vigorously and Bo Lien responded, climaxing wildly and without inhibition, impaled on his manhood.
As her frenzied movements provided a powerful stimulus, Zhao came very quickly, grunting his pleasure. The Lotus’ flowering went on for a long time after that, and was all-consuming. It was not that she did not notice the presence of his jade dragon buried in her undersized rear, nor that she did not continue to feel any pain or even any discomfort. It was just that, somehow, the pain merged and melded with the waves of pleasure flowing from between her thighs, or perhaps it was that the pain sharpened the pleasure in the way hot peppers sharpen the savor of food. It was the first time she understood that pain and pleasure were not necessarily or at all times in opposition, and that they might be, to some degree at least, interchangeable.
When it was over, Bo Lien lay with her face resting on Chao-Xing’s belly, coated with sweat, eyes closed, with a smile of satisfaction on her lips. It seemed that there were rewards for service to Zhao, if that service was well and truly given.
Zhao rested on her ba
ck, red faced and perspiring, pondering the remarkable, sudden transformation in his intended. He had never doubted his ability to break her to his will, but neither had he suspected her unusual capacity for lovemaking. There was obviously a great deal more to this seemingly delicate Lotus than met the eye.
Chapter Eleven: Bo Lien Chooses
Some tasks came more easily to Bo Lien than others, of course. The ones that merely required her to submit to Zhao’s apparently insatiable and endlessly inventive sexual demands were actually the easiest to carry out. For however bizarre his demands, Bo Lien’s determination was such that she was able to will her weak body to obey.
The day she learned to “play the flute”, for example, was physically taxing, but not too demanding, as Bo Lien had set her mind, as she had already told Zhao, to obey or die trying. To be more precise, learning the art of swallowing his manhood was not the difficult part. It was what preceded it that was rather more mentally taxing.
She was in his bedroom, kneeling on her own drawn-up feet, her wrists and ankle bracelets all linked together behind her back. There was a leather collar around her neck which was attached to an overhead drum by means of a rope, and the rope had been shortened until Bo Lien’s head was tilted back so that she could see little besides the room’s ceiling, a painted scene of seabirds and clouds. She was, of course, nude, and her back was arched in the prescribed manner, to display her delicious little breasts to their best advantage.
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