No living being is as bull-headed and steely nerved as a female competing in a male world, struggling to get out from behind the receptionist's switchboard and clacking typewriters to build a career for herself. Hazards raise their heads at every turn . . . and sometimes the threats are more serious than an offensive pinch on the buttocks or a salacious glint in the eye. That's precisely what Chad Barker, head of the Hong Kong Border Investigation had in mind when he tried to dissuade his baby-faced secretary from accepting the assignment as informer on the twenty-three-year-old Bu Manchu jade smuggling case.
The mysterious Orient with its infamous white slave trade and opium dens and smuggling, is a city where caution is a pass word . . . a place where anything can be bought for a price. Sometimes in flesh . . . Paying that price is where Shirlee Canan, our twenty-two year old heroine drew the line on her career.
Captive in Hong Kong is the final drama of these fragments woven together in a fast-paced adventure written by Edward Mitchell, a true master at interpreting the mental machinations of a female in distress.
-The Publishers
Chapter One
"You have a talent for stumbling on to things, but listen to somebody who's been in this business since you were born. No matter how honorable your intentions, you're not immortal," Chad Barker grunted, rocking back in his chair and touching his fingertips together, squinting out the window at the congested Hong Kong streets below where the perpetual shuffle of feet and high voiced chatter sifted up to his third floor office. Deliberately, he kept his Australian blue eyes off of the magnificent body sitting across the room from him; those sleek stockinged legs had a definite clouding effect on his brain.
"You were saying . . ?" Shirlee Canan prompted, her pale amber eyes riveted on her superior. "Yes . . . I want you to stay on an imposter basis until you get used to the hazards of investigation. It's a cruel, dirty world out there and with your enthusiasm, you're likely to land yourself in some abominably bloody situation and get yourself killed," he said sternly. "You're a bright girl, inquisitive and strong, but you've got one drawback."
"Yes. . . ?" Shirlee cocked her pretty head and held her breath for a minute, frightened Chad Barker would take her off the investigation team and send her back behind the secretary's desk.
"You're too dramatic. You have to see the world as it is-you can't fluff facts out of imagination." He sucked in his breath. "However, you have one very definite asset . . . your appearance. You look innocent . . . few smugglers would take you seriously."
"But I am serious! I'm dead serious!" Chad winced at that word, cursing himself for sending this brown-eyed twenty-two year old child out on the bawdy streets of Hong Kong. Christ, she'd be eaten alive by the opium dealers, the white slave market . . . anybody with an eye for innocence. But she'd begged for a chance to prove her assets to the Hong Kong-based Border Investigation. It was only fair.
He wagged a finger at her. "You're to play model for Bu Manchu and that's all! No messing around for facts . . . just keep those brown eyes open to see who frequents his jewelry showing. Remember, you're not a policeman."
"That doesn't mean I don't have eyes and ears!"
"Listen . . . you're a model and that's it . . . or you'll end up in the Aberdeen Harbor with a hunk of cement around those gorg-. . . those ankles." Chad swallowed dryly. How could he play boss to this supple bodied beauty when he couldn't keep from mentally seducing her? "That's what the police are for."
"Look, Mr. Barker," she said snippily. "If I'm not mistaken, I am a woman and who could be a better investigator than somebody who works with him?" She threw up her delicate hands in frustration. "All I'm asking for is the file on Bu Manchu to get a feeling for the man. If Manchu's been smuggling jade for the past twenty-three years, certainly you must have some facts on him."
"Okay, okay . . . you win." Out of the corner of his eye, Chad Barker looked at the secretary turned police informant. "One more thing . . . I don't want you sleeping around to get facts," he snapped back at her. An awkward silence hushed between them while Chad Barker asked himself how he could have made a snide remark like that. Just because Shirlee Canan was well blessed, didn't mean she had an overactive libido. Damn it, though, he just wanted to protect this naive girl, and with thirty-seven years of investigatory experience to his credit, he was certain Shirlee was better off at the typewriter. How female liberation had hit China's white population, he'd never figure out.
Still, his remark was inexcusable. Shirlee Canan, with her baby soft blonde curls and luscious pale amber eyes looked every bit the model role, but once she came face to face with a sultry womanizer like Bu Manchu, there had to be trouble.
Shirlee sucked in her breath and her red-lipped mouth puckered angrily. "Mr. Barker, I would never sleep with a man for the measly purpose of getting facts!" She sat up stiffly, her soft whispery voice turned hard as jadeite rock.
The investigator spun around in his swivel chair, facing the offended girl. "I . . . guess you wouldn't, would you?" He recalled the numerous times she'd declined his luncheon invitations. "At least it's out in the open now, Shirlee," he said, struggling to gain control. "But when you interview for the modeling job for his next jade jewelry opening, you must be aware of these possibilities. He's only human, you know . . . and part satyr."
"If he thinks he's going to force me to sleep with him for a crumby job, so what? At least I'll get next to him. But that doesn't mean I will!" she blasted coldly, then blushed at her own audacity.
Chad Barker had the unmistakable feeling that he was losing on the defensive lines with this headstrong girl. "I guess you're right." For a silent moment he appraised her, trying to decide what her chances for surviving Bu Manchu might be. She was sharp as a tack, a tall leggy blonde with full womanly hips, a deliciously narrow waist and a heavy high-set pair of breasts . . . a real show stopper on the dark streets of Hong Kong. Barker scratched his balding head and asked himself if his decision was a wise one. Perhaps unconsciously he was sending Shirlee out into the crime-infested streets of Hong Kong for the sake of his mental well being. Working around Shirlee was like trying to diet at a smorgasbord.
"Bu Manchu employs an army of Chinese thugs who use one karate chop to slice you in half, you know," the investigator informed her. "He's been known to amputate woman's breasts with machetes."
Shirlee didn't flinch . . . outwardly.
"And his assistant is a raving lesbian who picks out the models and tests them out in her own nasty way first.. ."
"That's so, huh?" She didn't blink an eye. "I've been a model, Mr. Barker . . . but they said I wasn't very symmetrical . . ." Shirlee looked askance for a moment while Chad wondered what could be wrong with this girl's symmetry. She was all bumps and curves to his eyes.
To his surprise, she was blushing. "Horizontally, that is . . . I'm a little top heavy," she put in meekly, her amber eyes glancing down over her full breasts that ballooned out a full thirty-eight inches from her twenty-two inch waist.
Somehow, seeing this girl blush with modesty, rekindled Chad Barker's confidence in his decision and he sat up erect and cleared his throat in a judicial manner. "Okay, Shirlee, I'll give you permission to pursue the Bu Manchu file . . . if only to let you know what you're getting into. But no getting dramatic if he . . . if he comes on to you. All you have to do is quit. We'll understand."
"That's fair," Shirley agreed sincerely. "All I want is to get out behind the secretary's desk and get into investigation. I think I have a talent for it. Now back to Bu Manchu . . . If he's a jade smuggler, why does he bother with owning a shop? Is it a hobby with him?"
Barker lumbered to his feet and pulled open a metal file drawer from which he withdrew a dossier fat as the New York telephone directory, puppy-eared and ink marked.
"No . . . I have the idea that he's an egomaniac who has to be in the limelight. That's why the extravagant showings aboard his yacht."
"And that's where I'll be modeling his jewelry?"
Barker looked serious. "Yes . . . and I'd be cautious, if I were you . . . I'd give it some thought before I committed myself to this job. There'll be other assignments coming up. Take this out into the outer office and scan it . . . then decide."
Shirlee's heart pounded triple time as she gathered up the file and tripped in her high heels out of Chad Barker's office and settled at her desk. Finally, she'd got her break! Secretarial work was nowhere. The darned telephones were always ringing and nobody took you seriously unless you missed a day of work. What she craved was the real world of adventure, the underworld of shady characters who sparked the imagination like Chinese firecrackers. What better place to fulfill that fantasy than in Hong Kong, the trade center of the Orient. When her parents had first moved there from Blackpool, England she'd found it a strangely intriguing place and now that she felt comfortable here, her ambition to know it grew hotter. For years she'd read Bu Manchu's name in the paper. Ever since jade smuggling had replaced opium as the prize contraband of the Golden Triangle of Burma, Laos, and Thailand, Bu Manchu was the most colorful criminal in Hong Kong.
Thumbing through the file, she gazed at his photograph before her and scanned his life history. Born in Bangkok, the son of an artisan, he worked for an exporter and started designing jewelry. From there, reported connections with the chieftains of eastern Burma's independent Shan state, in particular, the Chinese warlords left over from Kuomintang forces now in control of jade smuggling in the Orient.
Shirlee studied the photograph of Bu Manchu, appraising it as only a woman can, while Chad's comment on his man's sexual habits rattled in her brain.
He was posed on a beach in Bali with a gorgeous, tawny, leggy woman sitting on his lap. The girl . . . one of his models, perhaps . . . was wearing a fashionable string bikini, but it was the male's body Shirlee was looking at. He had a strong muscle-bound Bruce Lee body, despite his fifty years and his cheek bones were high and his nose less broad than most Mongolians. He appeared demonically smug and arrogant, and Shirlee wondered if that lithe brown body sitting on his lap counted amongst his murder victims. Or had she lost a breast in a temper tantrum?
Instantly, Shirlee found herself shuddering, and she drew in a few deep breaths to cool the hot flash which had swept over her body without warning. This half-giddy sensation had been overcoming her often of late, and she knew what it meant. She was a normal adult female who had been driving herself too hard for the past two years, thinking about her career and leaving no time to satisfy her physical desires. Somehow, the photograph of a lustful character like Bu Manchu had sparked an automatic physical reaction, that dark animal need within her.
She stood up, nervous and trembling, wishing she could turn off that portion of herself that was female and deprived, at least long enough to advance in the investigation business. Why her sexual desires were so strong and demanding, baffled her. Women with no self respect were supposed to run around looking for cheap thrills, but she was a career woman, the cold-blooded investigator who should not have these distracting, irritating passions! She sucked in her breath, remembering what Chad Barker had said about her sleeping around for facts. Had he seen something in her, a certain suppressed weakness she wasn't aware of? The picture of tawny bodied Bu Manchu flicked in her mind. Suppose Barker was right . . . suppose she'd have to sleep with him to get the modeling job. Would she succumb to it? Maybe the Mata Hari story was nothing unusual; maybe all female spies got their information in bed!
Manchu would laugh you right out of bed, she thought, so sack that thought. What you don't know about sex would fill a book and Manchu looks like a demanding man who wouldn't settle for a whimper and a whine.
Shirlee's lack of sexual experience was no exaggeration, despite her baby-doll looks that drove every man in Hong Kong wild. Her parents were staunch English Episcopalians who didn't take kindly to late night dates and pimply faced teenage boys knocking at their door. Of course, she had gone parking a few times with her boyfriend Larry, back in Blackpool, but it was the thing to do and everybody thought you a bit weird if you didn't try it. Still, it bothered her when Larry got too enthusiastic, necking with her, sticking his tongue in her mouth and running his hungry hands all over her fully mature teenage breasts. The touch of his fluttery hands had never failed to arouse her, no matter how she tried to ignore it, and each parking spree brought her a bit closer to doing it. Sometimes she'd gone so far as to let him slide his fingers beneath her blouse and undo her brassiere and massage the nakedness of her succulent young breasts. Most of the time Larry would bring a bottle along, and Shirlee had begun to associate the stinging taste of alcohol with backseat grope sessions in the dark. Drinking helped, dulling her overactive conscience and making her not responsible for what they were doing. The memory of their last date together, before she moved to Hong Kong, floated into her mind and refused to be driven away. How many times had she remembered every humiliating moment of that last date?
They had killed half a bottle of cheap whiskey together before they fluffed up the pillows in the backseat and started to neck, and she had not even made her usual objection when his inching hand roamed into the forbidden territory up between her legs, caressing the sensitive inner flesh of her thighs. But Larry was not satisfied with stroking her legs, and she had tried to resist when he began jabbing his outstretched middle finger lewdly beneath the tight leg band of her panties and into the softly curling pubic hair surrounding her pussy. His fluttery touch had sent that strange tingling sensation charging throughout her entire body, the first time she had ever felt it, and the young girl had found it difficult to sit still in ladylike fashion as Larry probed deeper into her moist secret flesh.
"No, Larry," she had whispered into his ear, thinking he would stop short the way he had always stopped in the past when she had screamed a halt. But this time he hadn't listened to her, none at all, and the next thing she heard was the metallic whine of a zipper opening. With a shock, she had realized that his pants were open and in the dim light of the streetlight, she had been able to see his long hard penis fully erected and throbbing with lustful energy. Before she could react, he had seized her shaking fist and wrapped her fingers around his hot, solid flesh. She would have let go immediately, but at that same instant, Larry had pushed his fingers boldly into the tight warmth of her quivering young cunt. This sudden invasion sent an electric shock of rippling, almost unbearable pleasure up her backbone, pinning her, gasping, back against the seat. Then she was squeezing his warmly pulsating cock, her feminine instincts taking over and telling her what to do next. Within seconds the two of them were manipulating each other's genitals in unison with their lewd groans of delight.
Shirlee hadn't realized that her sixteen year old boyfriend's penis could swell that big, and without thinking, she began to stroke his long hard cock in wonderment, moving the leathery foreskin up and down over the bulging tip of his glans, feeling all woman as she heard her boyfriend's moaning pleasure.
And all the pleasure was not all Larry's. A part of her brain was screaming that this was sinful, but her over-stimulated young body was answering back, telling her that nothing else in her entire life, not birthday cake or reading a good book, had ever felt so good. Instinctively, she had opened her inner thighs, giving her boyfriend even greater access to the moist playground of her virginal cunt, squeezing his wildly throbbing cock as hard as she could as their arms criss-crossed and they worked at each other. Suddenly, Larry gasped, trying to roll on top of her, and she had fought him with all her strength she had left in her whiskey-weakened body, despairing as she realized he was ten times stronger than she. In seconds he had flattened her on the seat, one hand ripping her panties off her loins and leaving them dangling from one slender ankle. She begged him to stop.
Too late . . . with a snarl, he had flicked his hips forward powerfully, stabbing blindly with his blood-fed cock and trying to penetrate the defenselessly open slit of her vagina while she wiggled desperately to off-set his aim.
"No, Larry, Lar-ry, we can't!" she had begged, thrashing wildly back and forth and clamping her hot thighs together as tightly as she could with his pulsating manhood trapped wildly between them. Then, without warning, his penis exploded with hot juices and Shirlee had groaned as she felt his warm hardness begin to jerk out of control against her naked legs. Larry gasped and sent a thick hot stream spurting powerfully from his jerking, ejaculating penis, drenching her blonde pubic hair and dripping wetly down her cuntal furrow and the insides of her thighs . . .
That was the last she saw of Larry. Her father's promotion sent him to the Orient and perhaps just as well. The last Shirlee heard of her Blackpool friends, included the news that Larry had married another girl. In Hong Kong, too, there were other necking sessions and more dark corners, but Shirlee had remained frightened of her own sexuality, scared of the power this feeling possessed. Any minute it could strike without warning, precisely the way it had when she had glanced at the photograph of Bu Manchu.
What about Manchu set her off? He was just a Chinese thug, a smuggler, a murderer.
Chapter Two
"Christ, it's been too damned long!" Tom Bailey threw down his short stick and glared at the sand-drawn map of the Golden Triangle with an umbilical cord line connecting its craggy outline with the smooth one of North America. He couldn't count how many times he had drawn that same map in the sand outside of his dirt floored thatch but on the Pai River, and drawn the same mental blank. The tall American rose from his haunches, despondently realizing that perhaps he was forcing something from a brain that had long since atrophied from lack of human contact. Seven . . . eight years had passed since his American spy plane had been shot down in the last stages of the Viet Nam conflict and he'd escaped from the burning wreckage in the Burmese forests near the Thai border. His leg, once splintered and mangled, had long since healed and he walked now with only a slight limp.
Insanely, he wished he had somebody there sharing his gloomy existence to get him out of this dank hell hole on the wrong side of the world . . . if only for one passionate minute. A few giggling, bucktoothed Burmese girls from the village were his sole contact with the world . . . that and a few chattering gibbons hanging from his teak branches outside his hut. But he hated anybody with brown skin, for it was those bastards who'd shot his plane down. Killed his crew and left him bleeding on a river bank with the snakes and blood-thirsty Karenni smugglers for company.
Aimlessly, Tom Bailey sauntered into his rustic hut and stared at his remaining touch with the Western world: a crumpled up snapshot, wrinkled from humidity, of his girl friend Julie back in Dayton, Ohio sitting on a sofa in a playful cheesecake Harlow pose. That photograph had been his good luck charm during those disastrous missions into Communist territory. Luck? What a bitter joke that was!
Feeling slightly dizzy from the mental agony of loneliness, he staggered to the broken shaving mirror from his first-aid emergency plane kit and inspected himself, turning his head this way and that. Would Julie still find him attractive? There were few women in these godforsaken wilds who could give him an answer, save for the aging whore who'd worked the streets of Da Nang during the war and had made it her business to learn a few English phrases. Tom squinted through the dim light and wondered if Julie would recognize him now. He was thin and wiry and his hair was long and wild. Once he'd been combed and clipped, a bit overweight.
"You're getting old," he mumbled, hearing his own voice for the first time in days. Before he was shot down in that last spy mission, he'd planned to marry Julie and have kids and dogs and a big back yard back there in Dayton. Where was she now. . . ? Making peanut butter sandwiches for another man's children? Groaning out her orgasm under the man taking his place?
Somewhere out there was a means of getting back to the States, but something inside of Tom had long since withered up all hope of seeing Dayton, Ohio and Julie. Anyway, she probably wouldn't want him any more.
Bailey felt faint again from the emotional exhaustion of memories and he plopped down on his straw mat and slept while the gibbons chattered high over head, chasing after ultramarine birds.
Chapter Three
Considering Bu Manchu's vast empire, it was difficult to believe he kept his design studio in this tawdry, fishy-smelling section of Hong Kong. There should have been a bronze door, at least a plaque to announce the entrance to Bu Manchu's Oriental Jade Designs, but instead, there hung only a simple sign. Shirlee toyed with the idea of knocking on the door and introducing herself as an applicant, but that might be too risky. What if they slammed the door in her face?
Choosing a covert strategy, she took to the alleyway skirting Manchu's building, wondering if this might be the warehouse for his contraband which he sold to other jewelers for 500 percent of what he paid for it by smuggling it by truck, mule and boat through Thailand.
An open doorway leading inside the building is where she ducked inside, knowing that she had to seize the chance before somebody ambled along and started asking questions she couldn't answer. Inside the somewhat garish interior she could hear people talking excitedly, and a few steps down the Persian carpeted hallway brought her to a central office. Nobody paid any attention to her so she paused a moment to look around.
Almost immediately her detective instincts clamored like a fire engine and her inquisitive eyes took in the lushly furnished office manned by a semi-circle of muscle bound black belts standing with their arms crossed over their chests. These were no artisans, no jade carvers: they resembled a series of Bruce Lee statues. Shirlee sucked in her breath, pondering their obvious intent while three gorgeous models slithered in, all loaded down with jade jewelry that sparkled around their necks, fingers and ears.
"Do they want you for the showing?" asked the British reception speaking crisply from behind her desk.
"He said he wanted a minute to decide," replied the model nervously, flipping her mane of straight raven hair over her shoulder to show off an orange gold earring laden with a pale pink Buddha carved gem that dangled down to her elegant swan-like neck. "I don't know what more he could want of me," she complained.
The grey haired reception raised an eyebrow. "I think I do." She leaned over her desk and whispered, "Let me give you a bit of advice. Please him."
Shirlee pretended to admire a case of Buddha statuary carved from a variety of jade hues as she digested this information, while out of the corner of her eye she took in the sex-bomb body of this luscious Thai girl. The three models disappeared up the steps, chattering to each other excitedly. Obviously Bu Manchu was handpicking his models, and Shirlee shuddered at what would happen to her career if he didn't take kindly to her blonde Western looks.
The grey haired reception caught sight of the misplaced blonde then, and for a moment she looked stern, as if intruders were a common inconvenience around Manchu's gallery. "Miss, could 1 help you?" she asked in her cockney accent.
"Me? Oh, yes. I've come to interview for the modeling job?"
The woman perused Shirlee's innocent looks and drew in a deep breath as if irked, then directed her to be seated. "Mr. Manchu is very busy today, but 1 hope you have time to wait."
"Oh, yes." Shirlee sat in the velvet gilded chair and glanced around impatiently, feeling herself getting nowhere fast. This waiting was a waste of time. "Madame, have you a ladies room, please? I'd like to freshen up before I meet Mr. Manchu."
The woman cast her a burning glance, but conceded. "Yes, upstairs and to your right. But don't get in the models' way!" she cautioned starchily.
Every footstep brought Shirlee closer to the kingpin of the Orient's jade smuggling operation and her heart pounded in her temples as she took to the steps and found herself at the top of the stairs, facing the ladies room door. Brazenly, she stepped inside, opening the door onto the three primping models.
Time to take control of the situation . . .
"Mr. Manchu is waiting for you, girls," ordered Shirlee authoritatively, standing back to allow the three slinky-hipped beauties to pass her. None of the three girls bothered to question the stranger's order and they pressed past her in a rush of high-pitched Chinese chatter. Shirlee let the door close gently, drew in a few deep breaths, then opened it a peek to watch the supple-bodied women head for Manchu's show room. She was fast on their heels.
This was the critical moment. Holding her breath, Shirlee nudged open the heavy door and glanced covertly into the dimly lit room to see the three models shuffle towards a center stage. A man and a woman were sitting on a couch, their backs to Shirlee, barking orders to the swiftly moving models. Moving quickly herself, before courage dissipated, Shirlee slipped into the room and hid behind a dressing room curtain.
She was in the same room with Bu Manchu! Getting out again might be the scary part, and Shirlee remembered what Chad Barker had said about Manchu being a murderer. Did he kill models for snooping around? Too late now . . .
"Come on, girls. Step to it!" snapped Manchu in Raj English as the three models balked at the edge of the platform and looked at each other for courage. "Get up there and let me see what you do for my designs." Manchu's voice was deep and commanding with machete-sharp impatience, and she strained her eyes to make out his features in the darkness. The three obviously petrified models spun under the stage lights, showing off their bodies glittering with orange gold and jade. Shirlee bit her lip, wondering if she would ever be able to afford a Manchu masterpiece.
"Fantastic," rasped the hoarse voiced woman sitting beside Manchu on the couch. "This will be a dynamite show!"
"Yeah, Kim, they're okay, but we need something unusual for the end. It's repetitious," he barked tiredly, rubbing his forehead. He's a dissatisfied, impatient man who's used to getting his own way, Shirlee thought, storing that information in her memory bank. And that woman beside him was the infamous Kim-the lesbian!
"Let's use Hiro in the body jewelry . . . with those legs she'll knock them dead."
"But she'd have to be topless to show it off properly."
Manchu threw back his head and laughed. "Since when did naked bodies shock you, Kim? Come on, Hiro, slink into that chain of body jewelry hanging in the case and let's see how you look!"
With baby-rabbit footsteps, the Thai beauty darted off stage, pulling off her dress as she went. Expedience was obviously an asset in Manchu's empire. The other two models were dismissed, fleeing the studio while somewhere behind a curtain Hiro disrobed and the tinkling of jewelry sounded as she donned her naked body with pounds of 22 karat Thai gold and Burma jade.
A moment of tension hung in the air as Hiro appeared. Shirlee took a deep, quick breath, understanding immediately why Manchu had chosen Hiro to show off his chains of body jewelry on this manikin body. Hiro moved on the stage with all the poise of a female panther, a cool, tantalizing smile playing across her heavily glossed full lips. Despite the fact that she was totally nude, minus the jewelry, the girl moved with self confidence, utterly unconcerned about what portions of her magnificent body were covered with the garish trinkets and what were not. Around her neck she wore a series of heavy gold chains with fist-sized jade carvings interspersed every six inches: her puffy brown berry nipples peeked out around the wealth of minerals, while her waist was laden with a slender gold chain. About her hips, slinky and firm, draped another chain of gold and jade. With each pirouette, the jewels tinkled magically, the perfect compliment to her sloe eyed, red lipped geisha beauty.
"The perfect outfit for a Bali beach, Bu?" smirked Kim while Shirlee silently acquiesced.
"The bare ass will blow their bloody minds!" chuckled Manchu, standing up and nearing the stage, his hands on his hips.
"Nobody would dare wear it," Kim reminded her boss, standing by his side now and staring up at Hiro's lush, slimly curved body. The lesbian woman had none of the sadistic butch-qualities Shirlee had learned to associate with women of her nature. She was willowy and well proportioned and her skin and features hinted at a European crossbreeding that combined the best of the East with the best of the West. Her long black hair hung down over her shoulders.
"Nonsense, in a place called California they wear nothing at all on the beaches. To be almost dressed is better than naked. Anyone can be naked, but few can afford to be deliciously naked. We want our customers to see the beauty of our jewels and the border patrol will drool at the sight of one this lovely."
What was that supposed to mean? Didn't he care if anybody bought his jewelry? Mentally, Shirlee stuck that fact away in the pile of questionable facts. Both Bu and Kim were standing next to Hiro on the platform and for the first time, Shirlee got a full profile view of the man whose picture had rattled her mercilessly earlier that day. Even in his casual dress, he seemed graceful and self assured.
"Will the jewelry get in the way?" asked Kim simply, and the hidden police informer watched as Manchu smiled slowly in consent. Hiro appeared unconcerned about being nude in front of this cocksman and she didn't flinch when Manchu stepped closer, nearly touching her; and she didn't shrink away when he slinked his hands under the chain of jewelry and cupped the small mounds of her budding breasts. Hiro seemed to purr like a cat, standing with her back slightly arched and her pelvis thrust towards Manchu's meaty loins. Shirlee could see the girl's black pussy hair, thick as a rain forest, inches away from the growing bulge in Manchu's slacks which testified to his approval of her tawny naked beauty.
"You are a panther, the sleekest of cats," he told her in his soft, clear voice. "After this showing you will be famous . . . on the cover of Vogue. Does that please you?"
The girl blinked her spidery eyelashes just once and nodded, casting a quizzical look at Kim as if silently asking for directions.
"Then please your master," Manchu instructed her calmly, placing his brown hands on her soft shoulders and gently forcing her to her knees. Both women seemed to know what was expected of them in this electrified moment, even if Shirlee was perplexed. Kim crouched down next to the bejeweled model ceremoniously, her small hands reaching out confidently to undo the zipper of Manchu's pants with practiced ease as if it were step number one in a long procedure yet to unravel. Shirlee shivered with emotion as she realized that the three people had forgotten the jewelry showing and were about to enact a sex act, ignorant of the spy hiding behind the curtain. Shirlee bit her lip, knowing what happened in the next few minutes would certainly upset her, but unfortunately, she was stuck. In their silent passion they would certainly hear her opening the door, and panic rooted her to the spot. She watched, filled with a sense of horrified fascination as Kim agilely opened Manchu's pants, exposing the length of his fully erect penis.
The blonde haired informer gasped with fright, remembering her reaction when she had first seen Larry's hard penis that evening a few years back in Blackpool, and recalling how shocked she had been at the sheer size of it. And Manchu's cock was nearly twice that size, seeming so thick that a delicate hand like Hiro's could barely close around it. Suddenly, the girl understood what Manchu had in mind for her. There would be no lovemaking in the usual manner. He was going to violate her mouth, going to force the monstrous hunk of golden meat between her glossy lips and thrust it vilely into the back of her throat.
Oh, god! Shirlee bit her fist, her eyes watering as she forgot to blink.
"Now, my Thai maiden, I want you to suck my cock. Do you understand? Kim will show you how I prefer to have it done and if you learn how to do it well, you can become a very rich and famous model. . ."
On cue, Kim leaned forward past Hiro, taking the huge sack of Manchu's testicles in one hand and his virilely throbbing cock in the other. The man was uncircumcised, like most Orientals, and the woman expertly pushed back the thick covering of golden skin, exposing the bright scarlet bulb of his slippery cockhead. Shirlee could hardly believe her eyes and she found that she was absentmindedly digging her nails into the palms of her hands. She was torn between a desperate desire to close her eyes and stop up her ears, and an equally powerful curiosity which demanded that she watch and absorb every lurid detail. The curiosity won and she watched with investigatory enthusiasm.
"Like this, Hiro," Kim coached the model. "You have to take him deep, all the way into the back of your throat, okay? If you breathe evenly, you won't choke . . . and use your tongue, he likes that."
Shirlee studied the Thai girl's stoic expression, searching for a trace of fear or hesitation, but Hiro's smooth features were calm as if the pleasure of sucking this man's cock was her ultimate fantasy. Shirlee suspected that the girl perhaps realized that she had one chance to make it to the top of this competitive business and this was it! If she wanted a part of Manchu's famous showing, the girl was probably grateful to have the chance. Manchu was one of the richest men in the Orient and no doubt half of Hong Kong's female population would give anything for this chance to kneel slavishly before this man and suck his long thick maledom.
The lesson continued. Kim took a deep breath as Manchu stood patiently looking down at her, and then seemed to suck the man's lust thickened cock directly into the forbidden cavern of her moistly welcoming mouth. Shirlee, shivering with excitement and goose-bumping nervousness, watched in agony of mixed emotions, half-appalled by what she was seeing and half-stimulated by it. She had heard of this vile perversion (Larry had once asked her to perform it on him). She had refused, flatly and irrevocably.
Never had she considered trying it and never had she expected to find herself hiding behind a curtain watching others perform this unholy act . . . not to mention watching a lesbian teach a Thai model how to suck off a smuggling kingpin. Could she tell Chad Barker about this? She swallowed dryly, doubting that sincerely.
"You see, Hiro," mumbled Kim, slowly and reluctantly withdrawing the man's wetly glistening cock from her ovalled mouth. "Now you try . . . you think you've got it?"
The stony faced girl nodded, her face passive and immobile, sliding her delicate hands up Manchu's thighs as she moved so close to the man that her high, pointy little breasts scraped against his legs. Kim sat back on her haunches, gazing up at the supple bodied model with obvious desire, and Shirlee somehow guessed that after Hiro learned to satisfy Manchu, she would have to contend with Kim's sexual perversions!
Manchu was the aggressor, maneuvering his pulsating male organ in close and rubbing it lewdly over the dusky surface of her stoic face, teasing and torturing the model by playfully trying to keep it away from her mouth. Shirlee studied his tawny face, seeing clearly for the first time the evilness in him, the perfidious sadistic expression. Deliberately, he tormented the girl, not to increase his own sexual pleasure, but as a means of declaring himself master, making her beg for the privilege of taking his penis into the soft moistness of her mouth. How sadistic!
Then his gnarled fingers tightened in her black hair and he stopped teasing her. The girl caught his abrupt change in mood, sensing that he was now ready for the real action. She held his hardness delicately in her long fingered hands, the way Kim had demonstrated, her lips parting slightly as she directed the long bulbous rod of flesh directly into the warmly moistened cavern of her mouth.
"That's it," Shirlee heard Manchu coo, grinning broadly as he watched the lust swollen tip of his cock slowly disappearing into the girl's willing mouth. She began to nibble him, sliding the warm moist flesh of her lips gently over his throbbing cock as she slaved to excite him. Flicking her chained hips forward, Manchu invaded her a few more inches and Shirlee could see Kim swallowing frantically, trying to adjust to the lewd notion of having her mouth penetrated by this enormous pole of solid Oriental flesh. It even occurred to the hidden informer that the girl had probably never done this before. She tried to picture herself kneeling submissively before some cruelly dominant man like Manchu and accepting the lust hardened shaft of his penis into her virginal mouth. The image refused to register in her mind, and she felt nauseated at the thought. Someday, perhaps, she would find a man to love and marry (if he didn't get in the way of her career) but she would never, never let a male degrade her the way Manchu was degrading Hiro. Never!
There sounded a low moan from the stage, and Shirlee returned her attention quickly to the lewd drama being played out before her. Manchu had begun to flick his hips mercilessly backwards and forwards, driving the uncompromising cock ruthlessly in and out of the girl's cruelly stretched mouth. The young informer expected to see Hiro trying to break away, or at least mumble some kind of protest at this brutal treatment, but to her amazement, the girl had not moaned in agony but in heated excitement. In fact, she showed every sign of enjoying her salacious task, her whole brown body twitching and grinding to the tune of tinkling chains as she threw herself into her task joyfully. Manchu was going wild, his hips jerking back and forth as she slavered over his throbbing cock and Kim sat and watched, anxiously, awaiting her turn to ravish the young girl's helpless body.
In her rattled mind, Shirlee kept asking herself what it must feel like, wondering how Hiro could possibly be crooning and groaning with excitement despite the fact that she was being wickedly abused in the mouth. Manchu was really skewering into her throat now, fucking deeper and deeper with every sadistic stroke. The girl's mouth was obviously filled with saliva, forming a smooth warm sheath for the man's monstrous penis as it pummeled faster and faster into her face. His huge inflated balls were beating a steady rhythm of jungle lust against Hiro's chin. Shirlee stared as if she were paralyzed, watching with horrified fascination as the critical moment approached. Manchu was muttering obscenity after obscenity down on the top of her recklessly bobbing head as he watched his long, super-hardened penis disappearing into the tight oval hole formed by the model's pouting lips, clasping wetly around his driving cock like the cruelly stretched lips of a virginal vagina. In fact, he was fucking her mouth precisely as if it were merely a kind of cunt he could batter and plunder to his whim.
"Oh, that's it, baby!" he suddenly grunted, the ecstasy obvious in his voice as his back suddenly stiffened and arched dramatically. Manchu gripped her head between his hands, emitting a long low groan as if he were in pain, and Shirlee realized with a deepening sense of horror that he was cumming. Somehow her brain could not quite understand that he was going to end it this way, with his penis ejaculating hot sticky sperm into Hiro's mouth, but there was no longer any way of denying the plain fact of the stark reality. The stoic girl's face was twisted perfidiously and she was choking and sputtering, as the warm syrupy liquid sprayed evilly into the back of her open sucking throat. Hiro made no effort to avoid her fate, gulping and gagging valiantly as he emptied his seed completely into her sperm-filled mouth.
Suddenly, it was over with. Manchu released the girl's head, and she collapsed on the stage at his feet, still mechanically swallowing the heated cum he had ruthlessly forced down her throat. Kim ignored the model for a moment, quickly leaning forward and cleaning off Manchu's glistening penis, swiping off the sticky threads of cum with her agile, practiced tongue, then re-clasping his fly for him while he stood patiently looking down at the two slave women at his feet.
"She'll do," he commented dryly when Kim rose once again to her feet, her cheeks flushed.
"She's the best available, Bu. I know you had your heart set on a blonde, but they're scarce," replied the lesbian woman hungrily, hardly able to drag her eyes off the exhausted body of the model. "I thought I'd give her a few pointers, if that's okay with you."
"Sure," nodded Manchu as if he could care less. "Just don't wear her out."
Chapter Four
Shirlee waited behind the dressing room curtain, fantasizing blood curdling tales of what Bu Manchu would do to her body if he caught her spying on him. Weak-kneed and barely breathing, she waited until Bu, Hiro and Kim sauntered off into a darker, more convenient part of the show room. Quickly, she pulled herself together, concentrating to dislodge the live sex act she'd witnessed and retraced her steps back downstairs where the grey haired woman sat pouring over her work.
"My dear, I thought you'd long since left." The receptionist cocked an eyebrow at the blonde, indicating that taking liberties in Bu Manchu's design studio was fatally taboo. "But I have good news for you. Mr. Manchu just telephoned from upstairs saying he's looking for a blonde haired girl for his show. I think you've got the look he demands." Even as she spoke, the woman's hazel eyes lingered on the luscious mounds of Shirlee's upthrust breasts. "Mr. Manchu is very particular about his models. This might be a good break for you."
Shirlee was pleased; the ice in her veins thawed. "Tell Mr. Manchu, please, that I would be delighted to be part of his show." She watched as the receptionist scribbled something on a Manchu business card and handed it to her.
"Take this card along with you to the yacht tomorrow night two hours before the showing. His assistant normally chooses his models, but it seems they're hung up today . . . which is the only reason I'm taking the liberty of giving you the go ahead." The receptionist seemed very nervous about making decisions on Manchu's behalf, noted Shirlee mentally, accepting the card and turning on her feel, feeling smug about today's accomplishments. Mr. Barker would be pleased.
* * *
Shirlee hadn't noticed until she stepped out of the cab that her wristwatch was losing time. The normally cool-headed blonde stood for a moment at the foot of Bu Manchu's gang plank, pausing while she composed herself, knowing that to appear ruffled and overly excited would nullify all chances for getting close to the infamous jade smuggler. Inwardly, she shuddered, remembering the disgustingly lustful scene she'd witnessed in Manchu's showroom . . . Manchu's abuse of the Thai girl in particular. Something else confused her: his strange remark about the border patrol being enthralled with Hiro's slinky, luscious looks. What had that to do with Burmese jade and the price of jewelry, anyway? For the kingpin of a multimillion dollar jade smuggling operation, the patrol's impression of Bu's models was a ridiculously moot point, wasn't it?
Another fact didn't sit well with Shirlee. Why was Manchu blatantly disinterested in exporting his jewelry when the West-America in particular-was clamoring for Eastern import goods now that China was once again open for trade with the rest of the world? Manchu certainly had a razor sharp business mind . . . but why?
A fly buzzed in the ointment.
Shirlee drew one more deep breath to calm herself, then approached the sinewy bronze skinned guard at the plank, standing with his feet wide apart, his arms crossed over his chest, reminding Shirlee of a Mr. Clean ad she's seen in an old US magazine.
"Your card, miss?"
The man's stony face didn't change its indifferent expression; she handed him her card and gave her hair a combing stroke. Above all, her appearance must please Manchu. Fleetingly, Shirlee wondered if the man thumbing her card could be the same man who gave the fatal karate chop to a luckless Manchu model years back. What had she done to displease him so? That steely glare made her suspicious.
"I'm one of the models," said Shirlee, a little miffed at the unnecessary once-over. "Would you like to see other identification?"
He grunted something and handed the card back to her, then tossed his head in the direction of the yacht, no words spoken.
The deck was abuzz with activity. A small Chinese combo was setting up their unique musical instruments on the after deck while chattering caterers in white uniforms arranged chafing dishes and platters on a long table.
"Orientals are an efficient race, aren't they?" came a man's voice from behind her and Shirlee jumped involuntarily as Bu Manchu stepped forward and stared brazenly into her eyes.
"Mr. Manchu? Shirlee Canan. . ." She held out her hand and he squeezed it warmly.
Bu sucked in his breath, his dark appraising eyes taking in the curvy form of his impromptu model. Shirlee was shocked to realize that this powerful man breathing inches away from her neck was exactly her height: five foot eight. Somehow his aggressive manner made him seem a giant. "I'm pleased you are on time. . . . if there's one thing I despise, it's tardiness." And people spying from behind dressing room curtains, thought Shirlee with a shiver. "Come with me. . ."
He took her by the elbow and led her regally as if she were his inspiration, instead of merely a model to show off his creations. "I want you to meet Kim, my assistant. She will help you in preparing yourself for the showing." He led the way to a cabin room and opened the door for her. "I am pleased you have consented to model for us. Your fair-skinned beauty will compliment the Manchu collection with unparalleled success."
"You are most kind, Mr. Manchu. I'll do my best to please you." Now why did I say that? wondered Shirlee, watching the man's mouth twitch into a sly smirk.
The door closed behind her just as Kim, dressed in a slinky black satin sarong slithered through the adjoining door. Shirlee glanced directly into the almond sloe-eye of the assistant to one of the Orient's most feared criminals.
"Mr. Manchu is no doubt pleased you have come," she said evenly, looking fully poised and self assured. "You are tastefully dressed for the show. That neckline is perfect for what you will be wearing."
Thank God, thought Shirlee, at least 1 won't have to go naked! Things were looking up.
"We have been looking for a blonde-haired model to show off our collection," she purred on, reaching down on the bed to unlock a hand carved teakwood box lined with black velvet and filled with the original Manchu jade collection.
If Manchu didn't export his jewelry, why is he so concerned with having a blond-haired model? That, too, fell into the category of questionables that seemed to be piling up fast.
"Our guests will be arriving in an hour. I will give you instructions as to where you will stand. Since jewelry, unlike clothing, is best seen up close, we prefer that you remain after the showing to mingle with the crowd. You will find the guests a very select group of people."
"I'm sure they are," echoed Shirlee, watching the naked brown shoulders ripple before her as Kim reached down to draw out a rolled jade necklace and a set of gold earrings casing carved pink jade shells. Despite herself, Shirlee had to admire the smoothness of the brown skinned beauty, and again she asked herself why a woman with such exquisite features would find pleasure in another woman's body. That was too heady a question at this point. "You have modeled often?"
Shirlee nodded, her amber eyes following the woman's deft movements as she held up the exquisite necklace and stepped forward to lay the cold rocks on Shirlee's soft neck. Close as she was, she could smell the rich Bali perfume emanating from the woman's luscious body like fresh flowers on a spring night, and goose-bumps jumped over Shirlee's flesh at the feel of Kim's talon-like nails grazing over her naked skin as the necklace was clasped in place. Standing on polished tip toes to pull back a wisp of baby soft blonde curls, Kim's firm high-set breasts rubbed accidentally against Shirlee's puffy nipples and sent a shiver up the girl's spine as she felt the cold feel of an earring weighting down her ear lobe.
The guests arrived in buzzing throngs on that warm June evening, all hundred of them. Fashion and society reporters from London, Paris, Rome and New York cruised the deck vulture-like. A certain segment was comprised of other famous jade dealers and a smattering of artists whom Shirlee failed to recognize, but she made a mental note of which photographers were taking photos of who, in case Mr. Barker might consider that essential information.
The showing itself was brief, but successful though it wasn't until Hiro stepped out onto the platform that the flashbulbs started clicking. Photographers fell down on one knee capturing Hiro's sleek animalist brown beauty with the gold chains draped about her slinky curves. Shirlee was thankful for the repose to study the crowd and try to match fuzzy newspaper clipping faces with the flesh and blood ones surrounding her.
Name designers clustered around her, like flies to honey, using the excuse of admiring her jewelry to the caress her breasts, stroke her soft neck and slip a hand where it didn't belong. A waiter passed around drinks and she joyfully accepted one. Being a model had never appealed to her better senses; a faceless position, she considered it, one step above being a secretary.
"Did you enjoy yourself?" Manchu asked, worming his way through the crowd. Shirlee noticed he had the talent common among politicians and businessmen, of concentrating all his attention upon her while he was talking to her, as if no one else existed. Very clever, she though . . . and intimidating. Still, something about his gaze made her feel flattered and delighted. She was here to spy on him and if he was attracted to her, so much the better. Still, she couldn't allow herself the inconsistency of letting herself be captured by his charms. He was a murderer.
"It was fun. I loved your collection, Mr. Manchu."
"The minute I saw you, I picked you out as a model. You could do very well in the business . . . if you had the right connections," he put in eagerly. "I have many beautiful women working for me. . ." and here he gestured toward Hiro, "but none as beautiful as you."
"You are a very flattering man," she offered loosely, realizing at the same time that he was doing a fine job of keeping her off guard. "It was a privilege to model your jewelry."
Apparently, that's what he'd wanted to hear, for he turned on his heel and disappeared through the crowd, leaving the girl slightly perplexed and very frustrated. Perhaps his motives were more sexual than commercial, and if this turned out to be the case, what should her response be? Suppose he asked her to stay for a drink after the showing? Should she accept?
A few feet away from where she was standing, one of the models suddenly dropped her glass on the deck, her yellow skin suddenly gone white. Her smooth skinned features twisted up into a knot of pain and she slumped to the deck in a clatter of jade and gold jewelry.
"Oh . . . I feel . . . dizzy," she mumbled. Manchu's crew acted with dispatch, elbowing aside the cluster of concerned people and supporting her lithe weight between two of them as they led her into a cabin. Kim appeared from nowhere with smelling salts and a glass of water, while a crew member swept up the broken glass to quickly dispel evidence of illness. Instantaneously, the incident was over with and forgotten. Manchu was back at her elbow.
"Sue just fainted," the blonde informer said. "One of the models."
"Yes, poor Sue. I'm going to have to replace her. She faints in public . . . one of those phobias, perhaps?" He sounded impatient, disgusted, anxious to forget the matter.
"Perhaps it was the drink. . . ?" Shirlee's suspicious mind was speaking out of turn. Manchu gave the air a sudden karate chop and Shirlee took the hint, dropping the subject like a hot potato. His expression thawed and in a mellifluous voice, he said, "In appreciation for your fine talents, I want you to have the jewelry you're wearing. It fits you perfectly. Jade has always been cherished by the Chinese . . . in fact, in ancient China only the emperors were allowed to wear it, for as Confucius said, Jade is a virtuous gem." He paused to fondle his own pink carved creation dangling from Shirlee's shell-like ear. "Its warmth and luster indicate charity, its translucent quality typifies sincerity and its hardness mirrors intelligence and wisdom. . . ." He let his warm finger tips trail down the milky white stretch of her soft, naked neck. "I consider myself a fine judge of character, Shirlee, and you are all those things."
What could she say to that? "Oh . . . I couldn't. . . I mean . . ." Her fingers reached up to stroke the rolled jade necklace. It would be difficult to remain objective after accepting a gift of this magnitude. Mr. Barker might consider it unethical, and who could foresee what Manchu would want in return? The lewd image of Hiro kneeling humbly at his feet, sucking his bloated penis flashed through her mind, and she shook her head.
"Please . . . we Orientals consider it an insult to refuse gifts."
"But . . ." she struggled to form an objection in her mind, but she already knew she would wear that gorgeous jade necklace to her grave, so cherishable was it. Besides, there was something about the way he gave an order that compelled obedience, and Shirlee gave in.
Then he was gone again, moving through the crowd with practiced ease, leaving her standing alone, dumbfounded. Once again, he'd managed to haze her alertness. Why was he going to such trouble to make a good impression on her? Did he make it a habit of giving away his creations to his models? That was an important consideration . . . one worth following up, and Shirlee ambled back toward the cabin, hoping to find there at least one of the other models to test the validity of her hunch.
The inside of Manchu's Emerald was cavernous and Shirlee had difficulty remembering just which cabin Manchu had assigned for the models. Hastily, she pushed experimentally on several doors, finding them locked. Then she spotted an open hatch at the far end of a long corridor which appeared to run the full length of the ship. A bluish light emanated from the room and Shirlee wondered if it might be a control room. The corridor was void of humanity, so she poked her way in. The light, she discovered, was coming from a series of video screens and the lesbian assistant, Kim, was hunched over a kind of control panel, a pair of earphones on her head connected to a video tape recorder. Obviously, she couldn't have heard Shirlee approach and the young blonde was about to sneak back in search of the other models when her amber eye focused on the video screen closest to her. It was the face of Sue, the model who had fainted from the drink. What in the world was going on?
Reminding herself that investigation was not part of her job, Shirlee hesitated, since Kim could turn around at any second and see her prying into something that obviously was none of her business. Still there was the chance she wouldn't, since Kim was too engrossed in what was happening on the panel of video screens to glance over her shoulder. Anxiety bubbled in Shirlee's stomach as she reminded herself that taking chances was what investigation was all about, and stepped forward so that she could see all the screens in one sweep.
The lithe bodied model named Sue was shown on all four screens; the first screen showed only her face, her serene Chinese features twisted into a mask of undisguised lust. The other three screens showed her unclothed body from every conceivable angle as she lay stark naked on the bed, her hands tied together over her head, her legs left free. Sue was thrashing back and forth, apparently in the final stages of demonic ecstasy.
MY GOD!. Shirlee realized with a sudden insight just what was going on. She'd been drugged . . . that's why she fainted!
Anyone could see that Sue's behavior was quite bizarre, indeed. One video camera was aimed up between the model's shamelessly spread thighs and Shirlee could see that her vagina was flowered open and moist as if she had just had intercourse. The camera equipment of unsurpassed Japanese workmanship, produced an incredibly clear image and the young informer could distinguish every fold and wrinkle in Sue's ravaged cunt. The screen magnified the image somehow and she could even see the woman's pussy quivering and palpitating, as if even her pussy was begging to be battered and abused again.
Shirlee bit her knuckle as the figure of a man entered the picture. His face was turned to the side, away from the cameras, but he was muscular and naked as Sue herself. He seized the woman's legs and rolled her over onto her stomach, his hands moving immediately to the softly flaccid half moons of her buttocks. Expertly, he spread the two spheres, exposing the whole flat plane of the woman's backside to the camera's eye. Sue had been thrashing wildly back and forth, and her hips were still quivering with unsatisfied lust as the man's lewd finger danced wickedly over the tiny puckered hole of her anus.
These people were crazy! thought Shirlee, a little trickle of fear winding traitorously up her spine. This sort of thing only happens in the movies! What are they doing to that poor model? And why? What was this thing Manchu had for his models?
There was no immediate answer to any of these questions, except for the one about what they were going to do to Sue. Manchu straightened up, bringing a long, lust-stiffened penis into play and began probing with this fleshy instrument between the model's obscenely parted buttocks. Shirlee could see that Sue's mouth was open and moving, mouthing words . . . but it was impossible to tell whether she was crying, or pleading for mercy, or begging to be sodomized. In the end, it probably made no difference, because Manchu was clearly the director of this show. He was clearly going to sodomize her, realized Shirlee, as she watched him place the mushroom head of his massively throbbing penis against the puckering circle of the girl's anus and began probing and pushing. A moment of electric tension virtually crackled across the picture tube, and then Bu moved, slashing forward with his hips.
Sue's naked body went into a series of spasms, as if an electric current had just passed through her veins, straining desperately against the cruel ropes that bound her face-down. Shirlee found herself instinctively clenching her own ass cheeks as if she was about to be assaulted from behind, while she watched Manchu's thick cock slide inexorably up into the puckering orifice of the woman's nether ring.
God, how could Sue stand it? The man's lust thickened pole of flesh was big and he was ramming into her defenseless little anus like a maniac, surging deeper and deeper as if he did not care whether or not he tore her delicate anus to shreds. The rampant spear of male flesh went in all the way, right to the hilt, and Shirlee watched in awe as Sue's supple body began to pump up and down, desperately answering each of the man's punishing sodomistic strokes with an answering stroke of her own. Oh God! Sue was enjoying it! Whatever kind of drug they had put in her, they had managed to dampen her sense of shame and pain so that she was willing to accept even this bizarre unnatural act of anal copulation!
Shirlee could watch no more. Two days on the case and already she'd witnessed two sordid sex acts. She was shaking pitifully. Something more than mysterious was going on in Bu Manchu's jade business, but she was only risking her life by peering over Kim's shoulder any longer. She had some thinking to do if she ever expected to piece together what all this was supposed to mean, but that she could accomplish in safer, less distracting quarters. Recalling Barker's suggestion of warding against getting dramatic, she realized that if she were to watch any more of Manchu's unfolding drama, she might loose her composure . . . entirely.
Quickly, the young informer walked back up the corridor to the afterdeck, her mind in a fog. What kind of brutal person would sodomize a woman? What kind of woman would enjoy such disgusting treatment?
"I was wondering where you had disappeared to," called out Manchu emphatically as Shirlee reappeared in the midst of the party, feeling shaky and flustered, her cheeks burning insidiously. After that dreadful experience she had just suffered through, it suddenly felt marvelous to be out in the fresh open air again, away from whatever dark and criminal thing they were doing to Sue.
"Oh, the female thing, you know," she answered back, a little hysterically, as Manchu caught her arm and decided to steady her nerves with a drink which she accepted from a waiter who materialized from nowhere. Manchu was talking in her ear, the blonde informer found she had to read his lips to concentrate hard enough to understand what he was saying.
". . . My jewelry was made for beauty such as yours, and you will be lucky enough to see for yourself where this exquisite Burmese jade comes from . . ."
Burma? Seeing for herself? What was he talking about, she thought dizzily, her head spinning like a top. There was no accompanying nausea, but still she had the desperate need to sit down somewhere. What was wrong with her? Could watching Sue being sodomized on the video screen affect her this profoundly?
"You're looking pale, my dear," she heard Manchu whisper in her ear. "Very pale. . .. . .
"If . . . if you don't mind . . . I . . . I'd like to lie down for a minute," she mumbled feeling as if she were in the heart of a maelstrom on some godforsaken sea. "I don't know what's. . ."
"Come along with me. You can lie down in one of the cabins until you feel better," he purred in his soft, unctuous voice.
He ushered her around the corner, guiding her by the elbow, before it hit her. The symptoms were the same as with Sue. The model had started out feeling dizzy and ended up being sodomized, tied up and photographed. Not an appropriate fate for an informer!
With an anguished cry, she broke away from Manchu and stampeded down the corridor, the deck whirling about her . . . up a hatchway to an upper deck. Her ears buzzed and her eyes saw double, and she shook her head trying to clear it to save herself from whatever Manchu had in mind for her. The shuffle of running feet behind her intensified her desperation and she kicked off her shoes and darted frantically towards the prow of the ship. In the darkness, her drugged confusion overwhelmed her. She stumbled, and fell with a whimper against a canvas-covered lifeboat, bruising herself as she thudded into it. Shouts sounded in back of her, and she instinctively knew that Manchu was organizing a search for her. The night was filled with a trillion stars as she pulled back the canvas and fell into the lifeboat, then fumbled to replace the canvas, smoothing it of rumples.
With a long, moaning sigh, she fell into a semicoma and Manchu, the jewelry draping her neck and Sue's sodomization all became timeless, inconsequential memories.
Chapter Five
A sliver of light stole in through a rip in the lifeboat canvas awakening Shirlee with a painful stab of dim consciousness. She was lying in the bottom of the lifeboat, her arms and legs numb with pain and cold. It took a long time to gather her senses. A dull thudding ache in her head reminded her that she'd been drugged and painfully, she raised herself up on one bruised elbow to assess her predicament.
It was morning . . . nine o'clock perhaps, judging from the angle of the sun. Her delicate fingers cautiously lifted a corner of the canvas and she peeked outside at the murky bay waters. Her white voile dress, she discovered, was in shreds and one of the sleeves had been ripped so that the bodice slipped down over her left breast, exposing the rosy brown of her puffy nipple. Always conscious of her modesty, Shirlee tried to tie the bodice back together, but it was clearly beyond repair. One ripe perky breast was going to stay permanently freed until she got a needle and thread.
She blinked her amber eyes a few times, struggling to focus her vision, knowing that if she didn't force herself to awaken fully, she would slip back into unconsciousness and wake up naked in Bu Manchu's bed with her hands tied. Why had Manchu tried to drug her? Why? It didn't make any sense . . . if he wanted her for a bed partner, he would have done better finding a more sexually liberated female than herself. His game was subtle and complex, and it was beginning to dawn on Shirlee why this wily man had eluded the police for twenty three years of jade smuggling. But right now to get out of this stifling, fish smelling lifeboat was the problem at hand.
She closed her eyes for a tempting moment and in her imagination saw Chad Barker fretting at his desk, banging his fists and cursing himself for having trusted a dumb blonde with an assignment as risky as throwing herself in Bu Manchu's company. Yes . . . she had to get out of this boat immediately and make a break for the gang plank, keeping close to the rail. If somebody spied her, she would run ashore and hail a rickshaw as fast as possible and high tail it back to Barker's office. If that failed, she would jump overboard and swim like crazy for shore, hoping a fisherman in this secluded bay would come to her rescue.
But that naked breast still bothered her. She fumbled around in the floor of the life boat, rifling through the litter in the bottom trying to find something to cover herself with. An old shirt, a life vest . . . Her finger struck a wooden box and, lifting up a flapping corner of the canvas to emit more light, she opened the box and stared down at a pile of maps.
Upon closer examination, she determined the maps to be topographical maps of Burma, China and Thailand with hand-drawn routes indicating a trip over mountains and down rivers. Wei Phu Long . . . where had she heard of that town before? Shirlee put a fingertip to her lip, seeing those words in her mind's eye on a sheet of paper. Where. . . ?Of course! In Barker's file on Bu Manchu. Wei Phu Long was a suspected pay-off point, allowing the jade to enter Thailand. Her chipped fingernail was tracing the route from Hong Kong around Viet Nam and Cambodia via the South China Sea to Bangkok, where a broken line indicated another form of travel to the mouth of the Pai River, when she heard muffled voices and footsteps from the upper deck growing louder, Bu Manchu's deep commanding voice amongst them. Shirlee stiffened, letting the map flutter from her fingertips and cocked her head, her ears straining to hear the smuggler bark directions to his crew.
What she could decipher was too dramatic even for her imagination:
"We keep the English girl. . . like Sue . . . sedated . . . get to Wei Phu Long . . . turn them over to the Thai border patrol . . . get us through . . . we pick up . . .
Everything was turning clear as drawn butter. The models. . . of course! Manchu was using them as bribery for the Thai border patrol to allow the smuggled jade into Bangkok and from there it was an easy, unimpeded route to Hong Kong.
Now all Shirlee had to do was get back to Chad Barker's office with this head full of information and start piecing it together over a note pad, maps and a hot cup of strong coffee. Shirlee felt a new surge of adrenaline flood her blood stream as she readied herself for her plunge toward safety. With any kind of luck, she could jump out of the lifeboat and dash down the gangplank before the crew jumped her and tried to stop her. With one quick movement, she swept back the canvas covering and leapt to her feet, taking a hasty look around to make certain no one was holding her under surveillance.
She scampered along the lower deck ready to plunge for the gangplank when she heard a stampede of running feet behind her. Bracing herself on the rail, she wadded up her white voile dress in her hand and slung one slender leg over the rail, ready to dive into the bay's murky waters when they pounced on her from all sides.
They didn't say much as they dragged her by the arms and escorted her to the lower deck, Shirlee's left breast jiggling freely in the nippy morning air. Neither of the Chinese black belts spoke English . . . not that their conversation would have been fit for female ears. Shirlee shuffled along between them down the corridor to the head stateroom.
Manchu was pouring over a lap full of maps, drinking tea, as Shirlee found herself thrust into his ornate room where Kim sat casually in a chair, sipping tea, looking smug. Manchu's dark eyes looked up calmly as the two thugs entered, and released the blonde informer.
"It's time you found her," Bu thundered in crisp English. "You've only had twelve hours!" he snapped. He flicked his wrist, dismissing them.
The two black belts bowed and left the room, while Shirlee stood still, one hand covering her exposed breast, trying desperately to think of what to say and how to explain her mysterious disappearance last night. Should she stamp her foot and be indignant, or was it time to make apologies?
"I slept the night in the life boat." she stammered awkwardly. "No . . . I didn't sleep, I was passed out from that drugged drink you gave me."
"Don't be absurd!" barked Kim crisply, her dark eyes flashing with something between anger and lust. "You were drunk. You couldn't hold your liquor. It's a common problem with models. You're too high strung."
"Hush!" Manchu's heavy eyebrows knitted together and he sliced the air with his hand. Both Kim and Shirlee stood at stiff attention.
"You've been drugging your models . . ." she said starchily, "And I saw what you did to S- . . ." She stopped short, realizing that she was giving herself away and that Bu Manchu was not about to cop to her emotional displays. But the words could not be retracted and she watched the two exchange glances. Manchu threw his maps aside and stood up, his barrel cheat heaving as he walked menacingly in her direction.
"Kim . . . I think our blonde haired model has been planted on our boat to observe our actions. . . those of her fellow models, too," he grunted. His eyes pierced at her. "And she's scratched the necklace I gave her and lost an earring." With a snarl, he grabbed her wrist, tearing her hand off her exposed breast and he gave it a hard tweak, pinching it painfully.
He stood close to her now, and Shirlee was more afraid than she'd ever imagined possible.
"I . . . I don't know what you're talking about," she gasped dryly. "I want you to let me off this ship immediately . . . or . . ."
"Or what, my dear? You'll call the police?"
"No . . . I wouldn't say anything," she pleaded desperately, fully cognizant now of her predicament.
He spun around on his heel, his hands held behind his back. "You won't say anything . . . ? Is that to say you have something to report?"
Shirlee tried to reason with him, wishing she'd behaved like a model as Chad Barker had suggested. "I was hired by you to model your jewelry, which I did . . . and. . ." She paused, drawing a deep breath, realizing she could not convince these people. Manchu was running his fingers lightly across her shoulder, sending a distinct shiver up and down her icy backbone. The yellow-faced demon was smiling back at her, a cruel, sinister grin, and the police informer could see the unmistakable glint of depravity in his eyes.
"For the moment, my dear, your future depends on how amicable a guest you can make yourself until our yacht begins its cruise around the Golden Triangle." He snapped his fingers. "Kim. . . start on her."
Shirlee closed her eyes, wishing she had a dose of that drugged alcohol to make her pass out right then. The adrenaline flooded in her veins, holding her stubbornly alert and very acutely aware of Manchu's intentions. Was Manchu going to try to make her kneel before him and take his massive cock into her virginal mouth the way he had done to Hiro? That was too horrifying a thought to contemplate, but it was perfectly obvious that Bu's wretched little mind had turned to sex. Instinctively, she glanced down and saw the monstrous bulge in his pants which told her that his penis was already on the rise.
"No!" she pleaded desperately, wanting to fight and scratch and claw at his face, but too stunned by the total hopelessness of her situation to move a little finger. Kim was at her side now, licking her lips, ready to begin. Shirlee slunk away from the woman's warm hands, horrified by the thought of being sexually molested by anybody . . . let alone a known murderer and his lesbian partner.
"Not a very good pose, my dear. Would you like me to call for a few of my bodyguards to take Kim's place? I'm sure they would have the strength to overcome any objections. The boys get very lonesome during these long trips and 1 could make myself very popular with them by providing them with you. Of course, they're all black belts and they might get a little tough . . ."
"Stop this! What do you want of me?" she bellowed at him in a hoarse, dramatic voice that reeked of fear as Kim's softly feminine hands drew the tattered dress down over her magnificent young body, leaving her naked except for a brief white pair of bikini panties and a ripped pair of pantyhose. Manchu glared at her for a long moment before responding.
"I would think that would be obvious by now," he remarked with a lecherous chuckle. "But since you have obviously gone to great lengths to investigate my background, let me fill in a few blank pages. I am a very wealthy man . . . and talented, and I am lucky to spend much time with women. However, most of them are borishly stupid, predictable and too moldable. Perhaps its the Mongol in me, but I prefer women with fight. I have fucked many beautiful but stupid models in the past twenty some years. I snap my fingers and they respond. It's a crashing bore, my dear."
Shirlee felt herself clenching her fists as she covered her naked breast.
"I want a woman who is beautiful but intelligent. Kim, like myself, has a penchant for blonde Westerners, and had you not behaved so stupidly last night, we might have gotten off to a better start. Take her panties off, Kim. Let me see her vagina."
Shirlee withered, but there was nothing to be won by idle resistance, and she shivered nakedly as Manchu's lesbian partner dropped to her knees and slipped the blonde girl's panties down over her luscious, lithe legs.
"Very nice," commented Manchu stepping closer and running his fingers lightly over the girl's triangle of fluffy blonde pubic curls. Shirlee's body jerked involuntarily, but Manchu continued his inspection of her. "Your body is every bit as sleek and smooth as Hiro's."
Beside him, Kim muttered something in Chinese, and slinking her long fingertips down over Manchu's pants to the zipper tab, gave it a little yank. He slapped her hand. "No . . . not yet."
Then, leading his unwilling captive to the edge of the bed, pushed her down on top of it. "You see, Shirlee, I enjoy sexual games and every woman is different. Some are meant to be fucked in the mouth, and taking a Western girl like you in the throat would be wonderful. Kim, here, enjoys it anally and needs to be hurt to enjoy it with a man." At this point, Manchu put his small but steely hands on the naked young girl's shoulders and forced her over backwards onto the bed so that her feet were still on the floor and her buttocks were resting on the edge of the mattress. "But with women like you, all those perversions are a waste of time. We'll get to those games later, and I'm anxious to put my cock in your rectum, but a woman like you deserves to be fucked in the cunt, which is where I'm headed now."
"Nooooo!" spat Shirlee recklessly, never before in her life having heard a man talk that way about sex. "Doesn't it matter to you that I don't want any of that? I don't love you . . . I don't even find you sexually appealing!"
He leered at her, sucked in a deep breath, then smiled sadistically. "There are gorgeous models who will suck me off or offer their buttocks to me for a modeling job. I've been looking for someone who is not quite so easy to convince, because when I have my cock in your cunt, making you scream in orgasm, I'll know it's precisely my masculinity that's driving you wild, not my next showing."
"You don't understand what I'm saying," she shot back at him, wondering where her courage was coming from. "I'm not going to get myself beaten up trying to fight you off when you've got a whole yacht full of black belts ready to give me a radical mastectomy. But that doesn't prove anything!!!"
Shirlee's face was hot with anger, tears welling in her amber eyes, screaming, beside herself with rage and terror, but to her surprise Manchu didn't strike her. He said nothing and smiled slowly, then muttered something to Kim who started working on his belt and slid his pants down around his ankles, revealing his long thick yellow hunk of male flesh, oozing at the tip with a pearl of pre-cum.
"That's perfect," he laughed smugly. "You will be a challenge."
Standing beside the bed, Kim asked for directions, ready to be of assistance. Shirlee was gawking at the man's massively bulging cock, her amber eyes wide in awe.
They exchanged more directives and Shirlee waited, her heart pounding in her temples while Kim quickly pulled her sarong loose and stood naked.
"It's quite a help having a female assistance with Kim's talents," Manchu informed her, settling himself on the stately bed beside her and placing his hands on her arms, pinning her to the mattress. "You will find that Kim has unusual sexual tastes."
Kim was naked, and Shirlee quickly glanced at the short but well proportioned woman who seemed in some ways to be a female version of Manchu himself. On second glance, she realized they looked alike.
"So you've noticed," smiled Manchu. "I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Kim is my sister . . . isn't that marvelous?"
Shirlee's jaw fell slack and she stared at the Oriental woman's breasts that were high and small, but exquisitely formed and lusciously brown. Her sinewy body moved with grace as she hastily knelt on the floor next to the bed between Shirlee's legs, pushing her thighs apart. Had the luckless young informer understood their filial interchange, she would have fought back even though it was useless, just to save her conscience. But the small Oriental woman was too fast, and by the time Shirlee understood what was to come, it was too late for anything.
"Lay still, Shirlee," she said in broken English, "and I will do the work." With that, she dropped her head seductively and ran her lips across the softly yielding flesh of Shirlee's soft upper thighs.
Shirlee's body froze as the wetly heated lips worked their way into her pubic curls. The lesbian's tongue speared out like liquid fire, agilely invading the girl's wantonly trembling young cunt. Shirlee's pelvis jerked spasmodically as she reacted to this deceptively powerful stimulation, feeling Kim lick her clitoris sensitively and then suck it up into her hot mouth, caressing it expertly with her tongue.
"No, please don't do this to me," whimpered Shirlee. Words were useless. Neither cared what she was saying or how she said it. Manchu was stretched beside her on the bed, using one hand to caress her sensitively tingling nipples and occasionally bending over with his usual sardonic chuckle to take one of the berry-like little buds between his teeth and suck at it with his tongue. Somehow, Shirlee made the assumption that he was merely waiting for his lesbian sister to tongue-fuck into such a tizzy that she would melt when he finally made his move.
But, oh god, the worst of it was the humiliation of being sprawled out, her legs spread obscenely apart with her naked virginal flesh offered up to the lesbian's tongue like some ancient Chinese sacrifice! Shirlee lay stiffly on the mattress, unable to move a muscle, as Kim slowly and torturously drew apart the fragile pink lips of her cunt with her fingers, watching it greedily for a moment and then buried the full length of her slippery tongue into the warmly throbbing walls of her pussy.
"Nooooooooooooooo noooooo! Gggggggggooo ooddddnooooooo!!!!" the futilely struggling young blonde groaned, feeling that these two sexual monsters were dragging her down into their own incestuous corruption, reducing her to the status of an animal. Her head came up off the pillow in amazement, as she looked down between the quaking mounds of her naked breasts at Kim's pink little tongue licking at her wetly throbbing vagina.
"Watch and learn. There is an old Chinese proverb that says, `He who receives must give!"
"Oh, God," she groaned again in anguish, flailing her head from side to side as Kim's tongue speared in and out of her involuntarily dilating pussy lips. Despite the humiliation, tiny whispers of pleasure were beginning to trickle through her defenseless body, and she could feel her tingling nipples becoming swollen and puckered as Manchu completed the circuit by gently nibbling and mouthing them one after the other. The smuggler was watching her intently, waiting patiently for that first giveaway sign of surrender.
Shirlee began to cry, great tears of shame flowing down her satin cheeks as she realized that there was nothing she could do but lie there and listen to the obscene wet sucking sounds Kim was making down there between her legs. She knew that the tiny sensitive sexual organ of her clitoris was bulbed with hardness, and that she could not hope to conceal much longer her arousal. Her hips quivered lustfully despite her iron determination to lie perfectly still, and she tried to concentrate on the ceiling, counting fly specks. Nothing worked. Rape . . . the letters flashed through her mind in blood red letters.
Kim was toying with her cruelly now, exploring all the sweet, untouched mysteries down there in the golden triangle of her pussy. Her sensitive prying fingers worked at the delicate flesh and then, Shirlee felt the lesbian's tongue flicker lightly over the tightly puckered hole of her anus.
That's when the blonde informer filled her lungs with air and let out in a searing scream, "Aaaaahhhh!!" She gasped again. "Nooooo!!" But Kim only emitted a muffled sigh and stabbed a second time, her obscenely caressing tongue slicking over the tight sphincter ring. Apparently sensing that she'd discovered the girl's sensitive spot, Kim carefully inched her outstretched middle finger into Shirlee's defenselessly puckering anus, forcing it steadily in as far as the first knuckle while her rapacious tongue fucked in and out of the thrashing girl informer's hotly throbbing cunt. The double impalement was the final straw, and Shirlee suddenly realized that she was losing her grip on reality. Her shamelessly aroused body jerked spasmodically as if someone were holding electrodes to it, and her hips seemed to have given up taking orders from her brain. Fight it though she did, she was well on the road to surrender, carrying the white flag of defeat.
Manchu gazed down with mixed emotions at the nakedly shuddering young girl squirming beneath him. The girl obviously was going to be a problem, because there was no way of knowing how much information she'd picked up on the yacht. If she was hidden in the lifeboat, doubtlessly she'd discovered the extra cache of maps. She was a clever girl, not terribly aware of life's cruelties, but she possessed a certain basic, lively intelligence, and she would make an interesting companion, except that she couldn't be trusted. Could he afford to let her out of his sight? Or would he have to eliminate her? That was a problem he would have to consider at some length, because the stakes in the smuggling game were high.
The Thai border guards had been cooperative, up to this point, accepting a beautiful girl now and then as bait, and charging him only a modicum price for slipping the rough jade through the border without taxation. But every time the country's political scene shifted, the chances for information on his operation leaking out did also. Security was a problem.
And that's precisely why he could use this girl. No one would expect a jade smuggler to be involved with an innocent looking blonde headed English Pollyanna such as the one stretched out on his bed. She had no criminal record and she would be nice to work with during daylight hours and nice to fuck at night, even though she had a libido that couldn't be unscrewed with a wrench . . . yet. Kim could teach her everything she needed to know about pleasing a man. From the way her voluptuous body had come alive in the last few minutes, it was obvious she harbored a hot, passionate streak in her a yard wide. Even now, being tongue-fucked by his lesbian sister, she was turning on, and Manchu stoically studied the half crazed expression which had crept onto her face. Abruptly, he decided it was time for the male Manchu to take over.
Shirlee was writhing and squirming under the mind-blowing torture of Kim's ceaselessly probing tongue, wondering how long she could take this abuse without exploding to pieces. Every time she peeked through an amber eye she saw Manchu's smooth, coarse but handsome face gazing down at her, his normally calm dark eyes widened with lust. Then, she saw him move his hand away from her reddened breast that he'd been pumping, and tapped his sister on the shoulder.
Kim raised her head, her mouth dribbling with Shirlee's cuntal juices. She looked disappointed, but she knew her place.
"Now, I'm going to fill up that sweet little vagina of yours that's been feeding my sister so deliciously." He watched Kim wipe her mouth with the back of her hand, then lick her fingers free of the sticky cum juices.
"Noooohhhhoooo!!!" Shirlee screamed, but the blonde haired girl realized how weak and helpless she was. She lay rock still as he maneuvered over her, frozen by her own conflicting emotions, her belly quivering and heaving in erotic need as she gasped desperately for air. Manchu maintained his pressure, bending over cruelly and biting the sensitive little nipple of that tortured left breast until he left two rodent-like teeth marks in it. She groaned in agony, trying to twist away, but the little man seemed to be all over her, his hands working over the delicacy of her thighs and hips, stroking her flesh tantalizingly. He bent over again, and for an instant she feared that he might bite her other nipple right off; she remembered horror stories of the conquering Mongols and in particular, their penchant for light skinned women. She prepared herself for the sharp pain, but this time he carefully licked the trembling little brown nipple, sending a twitch of unwanted pleasure racing through her betrayed young body. Instinctively, without realizing what she was doing, her hips began to grind impatiently into the yielding softness of the stateroom mattress below.
"I would say you're losing some of your Western inhibitions," he taunted sadistically, noticing the sparks of sexual arousal coming from her body. "Perhaps the uptight British are not so uptight after all?"
God, why did he have to talk like that? For some reason, his tauntings only aroused her more, and she turned her head to one side and closing her eyes, wished he would do it and get it over with. Above all, she had to hide from him all evidence of her arousal. If he could succeed in making her scream under his pillaging body, it would be the final defeat. If she surrendered, Lord only knew what other tortures lay in store for her.
"You need stretching," he complained as he thrust one pudgy finger into her seeping pussy and squirmed it around. "You are low in experience, I assume." Wasting neither time nor movements, Manchu levered up over her, using one hand to guide the hard rubbery shaft of his cock directly into the full fleshy lips of her agonized young pussy. The Oriental was getting himself excited now as the thought of raping this nakedly helpless young blonde girl took possession of his senses. Then, he watched her blonde head turn submissively to the side, as if to dispel all responsibility for her arousal and he rubbed the meaty, lubricated tip of his penis up and down her throbbing hair-lined cuntal slit, searching for the opening.
"Aaaaaggghhhh!" she muttered as he found the narrow, unstretched hole of her cunt and began to apply a little pressure.
The smuggler pushed relentlessly forward, putting the weight of his small but powerful body behind his lust hardened cock, and grinning sadistically as he watched her writhe in pain. The tip of his bulbous glans worked its way painfully past the tightly clasped opening, and penetrated her tight young cunt by brute Mongol force.
"No . . . god, you're hurting me," she bleated, putting her hands uselessly against his tawny hairless chest to push him away. It was futile, he was far too much man for her to shove away, and he obviously enjoyed making her suffer as he battered his way up into her virginal pussy.
"As Confucius would say, there's no sense in prolonging the inevitable . . . or as you Westerners would put it, beating around the bush." Releasing his solid weight on his elbows, he allowed his body to smash abruptly, crashing his chest against the cushiony softness of her breasts and simultaneously knocking the wind out of her. Defensively, Shirlee's legs splayed apart as his long thick cock rammed into her defenseless vagina. He was going in all the way this time, not stopping until his sperm filled testicles slapped obscenely against the upturned cheeks of her buttocks!
He muttered something obscene in Chinese and pulled his penis partially out and stared at the red threads from her torn hymen. "A goddamned virgin!"
"Oh, no! Oh dear God!" she whispered beneath him, too frightened to scream. The girl had never before in her entire life felt so stuffed as she was at that instant! His huge hotly pulsating penis lay sunk deep within her belly, so hard and round that she could almost feel it in the back of her throat, and her plundering virginal pussy felt as though someone had taken a scissors to it, ripping it to shreds, destroying it forever.
For a long breathless moment, neither of them moved. Kim shifted her position slightly, sprawling next to Shirlee on the bed and ran ,a cool hand over Shirlee's fevered forehead. "My brother is well hung, isn't he? You wait until he takes you in the ass!"
"Nooooohhhhhoooo!" Shirlee fell into tears, too tortured by what was happening to her at that moment to worry much about the future. Other than that, there was nothing to say, particularly since Manchu was flexing his lust thickened cock within her, deliberately trying to widen her tightly resisting cunt another few inches. Kim was inching her way closer, apparently still hot for a piece of the action, and too impatient to wait until her brother had sampled the first round.
She fumbled under the bed until she found the black box, drew out an arm-sized dildo and thrust it in Shirlee's pliant hand, forcibly wrapping the blonde girl's fingers around it. Then Kim thrust her hips forward eagerly and forced the plastic dildo up into her pussy, immediately clamping her thighs together to hold it in place.
"Oh dear God," groaned the captive blonde informer, not bothering to resist the latest perversion. "What more? What is left?"
"Plenty more," grunted Bu grimly. "Plenty more. . ."
Slowly, the merciless Oriental smuggler began to rock back and forth, driving his pulsing hardness in and out of Shirlee's painfully ravished pussy. With his Confucian philosophy, he possessed a native instinct for a woman's innermost feelings, and he sensed that the blonde girl had given up the fight. She had not even whimpered at his sister's latest perversion, and the slender yellow-skinned lesbian was going wild by his side as she forced Shirlee to fuck her with the dildo. Yes, from here on in she would be no problem at all. His penis had never failed him before, and he knew from his vast bedroom experience that it took very little to turn an innocent virgin into a raving sex maniac. He'd done it to countless models and he'd do it again!
Manchu was relying on his past record for that assumption, but he didn't know how right he was! Shirlee knew herself that the battle was lost. Even, the agonizing pain of Manchu's brutal penetration of her tender vagina had not brought her all the way down, and she was still tingling from the furious tongue lashing from Kim. Her brain was a mass of loose circuits and confusion, and she realized vaguely that she had probably not completely recovered from the drug they had dowsed in her alcohol the night before That had to be the reason for her lewd behavior . . . it had to be! No doubt they'd used some kind of Chinese aphrodisiac on her, and she remembered the pitiful sight of Sue spread eagle under Manchu's pounding penis.
The Oriental smuggler looked down at the girl he was savagely pumping into and decided that he was winning once again. Shirlee's smooth, magnificent body was twitching and jerking unconsciously, and he plastered a wet, slobbery kiss on her lips, finding to his delight that even her mouth yielded to his invasion. All of her seemed to be opening up to him. Lewdly, he plunged his hot tongue into her mouth and her tongue shyly toyed with his as low servile hums of passionate acceptance came from deep in her throat. A light fragrant layer of perspiration had beaded over her smooth forehead as his loins fucked endlessly into hers, and her nostrils flared with lust. Manchu decided it was indeed time to turn on the old Chinese charm and let her have it both barrels.
He started by shifting his position, slipping his small hands beneath the soft warm globes of her buttocks, continuing at the same time to fuck rhythmically into her. Shirlee's ass cheeks were churning and flexing in lewd delight as he fucked his lust hardened penis into her eagerly squirming cunt, and he used this new leverage to pull her tight little pussy even closer so that his long hard shaft was in direct contact with the oily little nub of her clitoris. She groaned and mumbled incoherently, almost as if she were thankful. She's ready, thought Manchu and slid his prying fingers all of the way beneath her nakedly undulating buttocks until his index finger rested lightly on the tiny puckered hole of her anus. It was tight, and he reminded himself that if on some future occasion he were to take her there, he'd better stretch her now. Besides, playing around in that forbidden playground would serve as a convincing demonstration of how low he'd brought her. If this snooty nosed English girl would accept his finger there, she would take anything anywhere, anytime!
Without warning, he slid his outstretched middle finger into her puckering anal hole quickly, catching her completely off guard, and feeling the soft rubbery flesh yield before his attack.
"Aaaaaahhhhhh!" she moaned, but it was not clear whether the nakedly thrashing girl was protesting or simply moaning from the increased pleasure of being twice filled. Manchu escalated by pushing a little further, working his finger around in bigger circles in her hot buttery depths to widen the opening. Slowly, he felt her outraged rectum adjust to this strange and unnatural invasion. The thought that he had completely dominated the girl lent a savage fury to the man's wild lusts, and he began to fuck her with every ounce of his smooth yellow body, caressing the moistly trembling inside walls of her rectum with his finger as he speared even more deeply into her wetly clasping young cunt.
"Oh, God!" she muttered, her long, finely tapered legs rising up on either side of him as if she were obscenely urging him to fuck her harder and deeper. In a flicker of the eyelash, Manchu realized that he was there; she was careening on the verge of cumming, and he had not even begun to really let her have it. He decided to get a head start and push her off the brink so hard that she would never forget this cum. Taking a deep breath, he stepped up his thrusts, ripping his fingers from her offended rectum and seizing her hips. The girl's loins were wide open to him now and the air echoed with the sound of one pile-driving thrust after another as his long penis rammed into her blonde curled pussy. Shirlee's face was so twisted and contorted with lust that her own mother would not have recognized her, and Manchu felt that his cock would explode if he didn't loosen the pressure soon. Neither of them were paying any attention to poor neglected Kim who was still fucking herself with the plastic dildo clamped in Shirlee's imprisoned hand. The forgotten lesbian suddenly began sobbing under the effect of her lonely passion, but neither her brother nor Shirlee turned to watch her expression as she came in one powerful orgasm.
"I . . . I . . ." gulped Shirlee, not knowing what the appropriate expression was for this blissful feeling.
"Say it!" Manchu barked, wanting to hear it from her lips.
"I'm cummmming . . . cummming!" the lust crazed girl chanted mindlessly, her hips bucking up against Manchu's body with that strange physical power which sweeps over a woman's body at the moment of sexual ecstasy.
The jade designer, all grunts and groans and perspiration, felt the warmness of her cunt as she flowered open to him like a lotus touched by the morning sun and the hot gushes of sticky orgiastic fluid flowed from her womb like rain. The fragile lips of her vagina were trying to milk him dry, and the man realized that he, too, was at the end of his rope. Shirlee's sweet breath was coming in short desperate gasps as he felt his own hot sperm suddenly gather deep in his testicles and explode outward. The steamy cum rushed the full length of his wildly ejaculating cock and burst into the depths of her womb, combining joyously with the warm orgiastic fluids generated by her own frenzied body.
Suddenly, the dizziness passed, and Shirlee's body went rag-limp, her legs splaying out obscenely as if there were no more modesty left in the world and she no longer cared who saw her and in what position. As was his habit, Manchu leaned forward to kiss her gently on her parted lips.
Abruptly, the blonde informer turned her head away, her eyes tight with disgust.
"Murderer!" she spat. "Smuggler! Rapist!" Slowly, Manchu withdrew his deflated penis from her seeping vagina, streaking a sticky thread of their cum across her thigh as he lifted himself up. He hated to do it . . . but she was going to have to be eliminated
Chapter Six
Tom Bailey flung his fishing pole line into the Pai River waters, feeling strangely at peace with himself and the world. His leg wasn't stiff today and since he'd resumed his morning shaving ritual, he felt better about himself as a man. In a way, he supposed fishing for his food had made him a healthy person. Back in Dayton everybody ate too much meat and potatoes and there was a time when Julie had chided him for his mid-belly spare tire. Now he was slim with not an ounce of fat on his body, though he'd lost none of his muscles. His hands were steady today, too, and that was a good sign.
Bailey glanced out over the murky rippling waters watching a low, long fishing boat silhouetted against the teakwood trees on the opposite bank, wondering if what the villagers said about this cove was true . . . that it was a magical spot blessed with fortune. If surviving a plane wreck and watching your crew burn to death before your eyes was luck, then he supposed he was a lucky man. Real luck, however, would be finding a female body along the shore; and until he did, curse the Burmese legends!
That bothered him . . . this need for a female body close to him. There was the displaced Vietnamese prostitute in town, the woman that had literally fucked an army, but somehow he could not see himself trading a day's catch for a lay in the sack.
He watched a fish flop, making big circles in the dark water. Would he ever get back to the United States and do all those American things like go bowling with the boys on Friday night and drink beer and flirt with the waitress? Could he do those insane things after knowing the darkness of true agony? Existentialism 101 back at the University of Ohio hadn't prepared him for that metaphysical predicament and that old cloudy, dismal sensation of panicky despair came over him. Distraught, he pulled in his fishing line, and retraced his steps back to the site of the plane wreck, hoping that reenacting the horror would lessen the impact. Threading his way through teak trees and undergrowth up to his kneecaps, he entered the burned out clearing to see the mangled rusted frame of the spy plane where he'd buried his crew those years ago. The wooden crosses had rotted in the steamy humidity, but he'd managed to keep the grave sites clear of underbrush.
Perhaps the Burmese villagers had the story backwards; maybe this stretch of the Pai River was all misfortune, considering the fearsome Karenni forces whose guns he'd heard crackling in combat through the peaceful virginal forest. Sometimes, late at night when insomnia cursed him, he would sit out on the riverbank, hiding in the bushes as a low, long boat slipped by silently in the darkness. Often the Thai border patrol would stop to investigate their cargo . . . sometimes in the midst of gun fire. He was contemplating those strange episodes as he tromped through the high underbrush to return to his hut, feeling downtrodden and defeated.
Passing by a rock face cliff, he stopped. Strange he'd never noticed that before, he thought, wondering if his emotional state had affected his vision, too. Suddenly intrigued by the rocks piled up in front of the cave mouth, his curiosity was piqued. With renewed energy, he began pulling away the rocks with his bare hands until he uncovered the tiny mouth of the cave. Down on his knees, he peered into the entrance big enough for a small Oriental man. Something geometrical and metal inside caught his eyes and he lay flat on his stomach, breathing in the moist ground smell as he tugged at the mysterious box.
He held a steel box in his hand; not a spot of rust discolored it, even in the humid cave air. The hinges squeaked as he opened the box. He gasped in surprise: hand grenades, all bearing the American eagle insignia. Probably found in Cambodia during the last siege of the Vietnamese war and sold in the black-market to the Karenni smugglers, he guessed.
Obviously, someone had hid this cache of hand grenades, and recently too. Who and why? Bailey thought about pulling the pin and trying one out, but if he did the whole damned village would be scouring the forests and what they would do was anybody's guess. Gingerly, he replaced the one grenade he had withdrawn and put it back into the box, then back on his belly, he slid it into the cave.
He was about to wiggle back out from the cave when he noticed more objects. There was an American M-16. An expert on guns, Tom could see it was well oiled and in good repair, with a box of ammo cases, too. But it was the third object he absconded with: a hunk of jade that would bring a good sum on the market. A fist-sized chunk of this green jadeite should be enough to buy a good hot meal and the Da Nang prostitute for a night . . . not to mention a slow boat to China.
Chapter Seven
The skies over Hong Kong hung pregnantly with springs storms when the captain of The Emerald revved up its four engines for the journey over the South China Sea, sailing around the Golden Triangle up to the Gulf of Thailand to dock near Bangkok.
Below, in a darkened stateroom lit by a dim oval of late afternoon skies, slow labored breathing mingled with lingering musky scent of sex. Sue's naked tawny body lay on a rumpled bed like a discarded toy, and an arm stretch away the English informer snored catatonically, one long white leg dangling over the side of the bed in a drugged stupor. Needle marks, fresh and still oozing with scarlet droplets of blood, dotted the insides of their elbows.
For three days they would remain in that drugged stupor, until The Emerald had entered Bangkok through the Gulf of Thailand and anchored there while Bu, Kim and the hostages remained behind and the bodyguards headed on up the Pai River with the empty steamer trunks, ready to load up the loot.
On the upper deck Bu and his lesbian sister Kim watched the third day of storm clouds amass in rumbling darkness in the ocean skies. They were concerned about more than the weather.
"It's a shame that beautiful and intelligent women are difficult to find in the Orient, and when I do locate them, I hate to kill them, but that English girl will have to go." Manchu reached out to steady his sister as The Emerald listed unexpectedly on the darkened sea. The winds had been of hurricane velocity of late and that made Manchu slightly nervous and jittery. They had to reach Bangkok to make their contact with the Karenni thugs by a certain day or the deal was off.
"It's my guess the girl is an informer," put in Kim, regaining her balance, her knuckles white from clutching onto the rail. "She called you a smuggler, Bu. I don't know where she got that murder business, and she must have seen us filing Sue for the clip we sent to the border patrol."
"She knows too much," he said flatly and decisively. "I hate to let such a lovely one die . . . before I have another turn at her. Have the steward prepare her."
The girl was still naked, her body flapping limply back and forth like a corpse in stormy waters when the steward threw her over his shoulder and dumped her on the bed in Manchu's stateroom. She thudded on the hard mattress and bounced twice, the springing her eyelids open. Shirlee glanced up sharply, realizing that she was glad to be conscious again . . . at least she knew she was alive.
"How are you feeling my dear?" Manchu smiled suavely at her. "Perhaps a bit of sleep improved your disposition . . . ?"
Shirlee simply stared at them, uncertain what she should say; then, too, her mind wasn't in proper working order. Plus she was frightened by her dire situation and upset by the way these two maniacs had made her respond. Two days had passed since Manchu had ravished her body, and though their drugs had numbed her senses, her stupidity at labeling him a smuggler stuck close to her hazed memory. It was that dreadfully powerful orgasm that had temporarily blurred her senses.
"Wha . . . what do you two want from me?" she quivered, crossing her legs instinctively and covering her nakedly upthrust breasts with her tiny hands . . . a feeble attempt at best.
"Before we reach Burma, we'd like to get to know you better, since you know so much about us. The question is, how do you know these things?"
"I . . . I. . . ." It seemed to be a bad idea to reveal precisely how much she knew at this point and Shirlee stalled for time.
"Ask her about the control room," Kim nudged her brother. "The door must have been open and she could have walked right in and seen the screens. Stupid of me to leave it open."
"Yes . . . very stupid," agreed Bu disgustedly. Manchu nodded grimly and returned his attention to the naked girl sitting on his bed.
"Beautiful and intelligent . . . So you saw our video set-up? Fine quality, don't you agree? There are four cameras mounted in this room all connected with a recorder. Thanks to Japanese ingenuity, we have some revealing films of our models which we will send to the Thai border patrol for a preview."
Shirlee's curiosity blurted out of her mouth in an incriminating: "What for?" Now they were onto her. Good show, she rebuked herself; nothing like sticking your foot in your mouth!
"Once we get to the Thai border you'll find out."
"What do you want of me?"
Manchu grinned evilly, a menacing grin which sent shivers down the girl's back. Kim was standing in front of her now, wearing a sarong which pulled open with one tug of the fingers, and while Shirlee waited for the answer, the lesbian slowly undid the wrap-around and stepped free of it. It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure out what this incestuous twosome had planned for her.
"We will have the video cameras rolling," Bu informed her. "And we want you to show the Thai border patrol what a meek one you are."
"I . . . I don't want any more sex!" she begged sincerely. "Please, no more sex!"
"Don't be scared. I have the impression you enjoyed our last session. I distinctly remember you cumming. Didn't you cum, or did you fake it for my sake?" he put in caustically.
His cruel mockery irked her, yet there was nothing she could do but sit and take it. Shirlee took a deep breath and conceded to her fate.
"Okay, okay . . . so you made me climax, but that's merely mechanics. Sex is for people in love, and I don't like these perversions!"
"Ah, but perversions are to sex what ginger and soy sauce are to Chinese cooking," Manchu informed her blandly. "It's too bad you aren't a man-then you could appreciate how lovely you two naked women look together. I would like to see you closer. Lie down, Kim!"
The submissive lesbian sister was visibly trembling with emotion as she stretched herself out on the bed next to the frightened blonde English girl who was five inches taller and every bit as frightened as her Oriental counterpart was excited. Shirlee noticed immediately that Kim's puffy brown nipples were getting puckery and the woman's glossy black haired pussy was moist. What kind of performance were these incestuous smugglers expecting of her? Should she fight, or would they stick another needle in her arm and drug her into submission? Kim flipped around on the bed so that she was upside down next to Shirlee, and Manchu pushed the young blonde informer down on her side so that they were in the classic sixty-nine position.
"Kim was nice enough to prepare you for me yesterday, now you be a good little girl and suck her off. There's nothing that delights me more than the sight of my sister getting hot over a woman," he announced. "Ever done this before, Shirlee? You'll learn fast enough, and if you don't we have methods. Now get to it!"
Her head thundering with confusion and repulsion, Shirlee felt Kim pushing her unresisting thighs apart, and her body jerked as the snaky tongue speared lewdly into the sensitive inner folds of her cunt. They had been all through this routine once before . . . how many days ago? and Shirlee already knew precisely what was expected of her. These people had somehow discovered a deeply buried masochistic streak of dormant sexuality in her, something hidden far beneath the surface of her conscious self. And they would explore that perverse need to be tortured and humiliated, turning her from a pompous, steely-nerved informer to a sordid sex fiend who would turn on to men and women at the snap of a finger.
As Kim's stabbing tongue teased her tickling vaginal flesh, Shirlee looked at the moistly dilated pussy shivered only a few inches from her nose. The scent from Kim's body was warm and fragrant as lotus blossoms, and the lips of her cunt were swollen and visibly trembling, begging to be kissed. Watching the sensuous outlines of that darkly inviting vaginal hole and knowing that Manchu would make her go through with this whether she wanted to or not, the girl bent slightly forward and ran her lips over the tiny pink button of Kim's clitoris and tasted the sweetness of the other woman's cunt.
"Ahhhhhh!" a sigh whispered from down between her own legs as Kim paused long enough to mutter out her thanks for this much needed kiss.
"You've had plenty of time to recuperate, Shirlee," Bu said ominously. "You will please my sister or I'll screw you in the ass while my crew takes turns with your cunt. Are there any questions?"
No questions! He had mentioned anal sex before, and there was something in the tone of his voice that convinced her he was serious. Certainly, any man who whopped off women's breasts with a karate chop was capable of anal rape. Shirlee hesitated no longer. If preventing anal rape meant having oral sex with this woman, then she would do it . . . gladly.
Then, too, the other woman's wetly glistening black fringed pussy was somewhat fascinating, from a cultural point of view. She had never seen one up close like this before, and Shirlee pushed her fingers exploringly into the rich dark pubic hair, caressing the Oriental woman's clitoris. Shirlee took a second look and immediately understood why Kim was oversexed. Lord, the size of her clitoris was long as a baby's thumb, red and pulsating with sexual electricity! To the touch it felt warm and soft and she could hear the Chinese woman sigh with happiness every time she touched it. Summing up her courage, Shirlee pushed Kim's yellow satiny thighs apart and wedged her blonde head in between her outstretched legs, running her tongue lewdly over the quivering pinkness of the throbbing cuntal lips. She clamped her rosy lips firmly around the sexually-sensitive tip of her clitoris and began to suck, tasting the piquant liquids of another woman for the first unforgettable time.
Instead of being disgusting, it was really quite easy. Kim was furiously tongue-lashing her own pulsating pussy, and the orgiastic scent wafting from the lesbian's body seemed to drive her higher and higher into a red mist of wild lust. Shirlee knew in some sane portion of her clouded mind that these criminals were getting through to her once again, that this surrender would make it that much more difficult for her to resist them in the future, but somehow at this point the logic of her situation seemed to reversed. What difference did it make? If they ordered her to resort to lesbianism to maintain her private rights on her rectum, then so be it! Anything but anal sex!
She threw herself into the perversion, almost reveling in the wickedness and obscenity of what she was doing. Once she pictured Chad Barker sitting in his office chair, chastising her for sleeping around for the facts. Lord, that seemed insignificant! Inching forward, she slid her long flickering tongue deeply into Kim's naked pussy, feeling the delicately trembling walls of the Chinese woman's cuntal hole quivering with excitement. The taste was strong, though aromatic, and Shirlee began to lick and suck with all her might, driving her tongue repeatedly into the woman's clasping vagina, and brushing her pouty lower lip over the woman's clitoris in one smooth stroke.
From Manchu's point of view, the two women had both gone totally crazy, and he felt his penis swelling powerfully. Foreplay had never appealed to him, and that's why having a younger sister like Kim was an asset to his business. When the moment was right, he would move in with his cock in hand and finish the job off. Shirlee would be ready any second now, and Bu marveled at the hot streak of lust which his sister had sparked in the snooty nosed English girl. And of course, Kim was ready in the flicker of an eyelash. Now the two of them were eating each other like there was no tomorrow.
Bu watched his sister quiver violently, and he knew she was ready to explode into an orgasm. His sister could cum faster and harder than any human being he had ever seen, and sometimes he had to envy her for that quality. Everything turned her on and she could turn anything on . . . hers was a perfect synergistic relationship with the world. Bu watched Kim's slender body go rigid as the spasm swept over her.
"Ah . . . ah . . . ah!" she murmured in a moment of ecstasy. Bu felt his iron hard cock throb with avid desire, and he knew what he wanted and to hell with promises! Shirlee's smooth tempting buttocks were right in front of him, and he suddenly was overcome by the lecherous desire to go ahead and take her there . . . even if she had fulfilled her end of the bargain! Why should he hold back? Since when did Bu Manchu ever hold back from what he wanted? Shirlee was his prisoner, and even the police didn't know where she was. Her defenseless naked body was his toy.
The two women were still tongue fucking each other like battery operated toys gone berserk, but Manchu levered himself up next to Shirlee's warm body and unzipped his pants to free his restless and complaining penis. The scarlet tip of his cock had swelled into an awesome size, and he rammed it between Shirlee's soft warm buttocks, wanting to catch her off guard before she had a chance to offer any serious resistance. Fighting his way into that tight little asshole would be a chore enough without having to wrestle with her at the same time.
Shirlee was not Shirlee any longer, but some raving lesbian trembling on a brink of a lesbian orgasm when she felt Manchu's warmly pulsating hardness slide between her soft ass cheeks. The potential orgasm passed immediately as fear stuck its hot finger into her naked body. The bastard . . . the lying bastard, he was going to take her there anyway! She had followed his instructions . . . that she knew because Kim was still writhing and groaning her way through a soul-shattering orgasm. She should have known better than to trust a murderous smuggler. Now she had cause to fight him!
Shirlee whirled around on the bed, flailing out with her elbows and striking Manchu as hard as she could in the head. She knew that to fight with an ex black belt was foolish, but her only hope was to kick and scream and scratch until he considered it too much trouble to pursue.
"Noooo!!!" she shrieked hysterically, raking her long fingernails through his naked chest and leaving red bleeding claw marks behind.
"Kim! Grab her!" ordered Bu, thrown temporarily off-balance by the sudden fury of Shirlee's attack and by erratic off-balance of the stormy seas and gigantic waves that bounced The Emerald around like a cork. The boat tumbled again, rocking dangerously to starboard, and Kim slid off the bed onto the floor, still confused by the violent interruption of the sweetest orgasm she could remember. Manchu rose unsteadily to his feet, his mouth twisted in a tiger like snarl, confronting the angry girl. He tried to throw his muscular body on top of her to pin her down, but Shirlee reacted with the brute jungle instinct of an animal, lashing out with one foot that caught him in the groin, smashing his cum swollen balls back against his thigh in one gnashing movement.
"Aaaahhhh!" Bu screamed in pain as Shirlee picked up a vase and hurled it at him, adding insult to injury as the porcelain caught him in the genitals, doubling him over immediately with agony. Manchu had been quite unprepared for this kind of assault from a timid English girl, but he had not made his way to the top of Hong Kong's smuggling business by being meek and forgiving. With a groan of rage, he ricocheted off a bulkhead and intercepted Shirlee as she sprinted for the cabin door, slamming her cruelly to the listing floor with one fast sweep of his arm.
"Damn little bitch!" he muttered as the girl. writhed on the floor, her eyes rolling back in her head, so far out of her mind that she was willing to continue the battle against all odds. "Get the crew, Kim. Before we dock in Bangkok, I'm going to give this girl a lesson in cock sucking before the Thai border gets their hands on her!"
The Emerald heaved itself over the restless Gulf of Thailand, not far from Bangkok where The Emerald would dock and make contact with the Karenni forces and head up the Pai River to Wai Phu Long where the jade would be ushered across the Thai border.
Staggering to her feet, Kim pushed an alarm button behind the door. Still groggy from her violent break for freedom, Shirlee found herself being hauled roughly to her feet and thrown out of the cabin and down the corridor to the afterdeck where only a week ago she'd been sipping cocktails!
Three black belts arrived in double time to the afterdeck, and the stoic faced men showed no particular surprise at seeing their boss dragging the screaming, kicking blonde out into the chilling open air even in the middle of this nasty weather. The three black belts had traveled with Manchu for five years, and by now nothing raised their eyebrows.
"What do you want, boss?" one of the men yelled as Manchu hurled the naked girl onto the deck at their feet.
"She needs to be loosened up a bit, and I want it done right now," the vicious smuggler shouted, rage plainly audible in his voice. "I want one cock down her throat, one in her cunt, and one up her asshole." Manchu spun on his heel and disappeared.
Sprawled nakedly on the deck beneath the three cut-throat black belts, Shirlee realized with a deadening sense of despair that it was probably all over with for her now. She had failed at fighting off one man . . . how could she possibly survive three?
"What a lovely sight," mocked the tallest and meanest of the three, as soon as the furious Chinese criminal had disappeared down the corridor, banging doors as he went.
"He gave me the order, so I'm taking first choice."
Shirlee shook her head, clinging to the deck as the ocean-going yacht pitched recklessly on the white-capped gulf waters. The man who'd been speaking was bald-headed with enormous biceps and a tiny waist.
"What are you going to do to her?" asked a shorter and surprisingly kind-faced man next to him. "Why rough her up? I don't want that kind of responsibility on my head."
Shirlee got to her hands and knees and gazed at the three thugs, somehow thinking that at least one of them would have mercy on her, that they would be a kind-hearted, decent man who would protect her from the maddened Bu Manchu. One glance at the tall man's snarling face erased all hopes, as he slowly undid his belt, grinning evilly at her and moved to stand in front of her.
"The boss said a cock in the mouth," he grunted cruelly. "That's my little present to you. Take it out!"
Shirlee looked up at him blankly, hardly capable of believing that life could have become so difficult at such an early age. She looked at his calloused hands and watched with dumb misery as he did a karate chop in the air, letting out a snarling grunt as he sliced the foggy atmosphere.
"Aaaggghhh!" she sang out in expectant pain as the hand stopped a deadly quarter inch from her neck, speeding through the air like a guillotine blade. She jumped forward, knowing that next time she wouldn't be so lucky.
"Crawl over here," he motioned to the fearfully kneeling girl, unbuttoning his fly and producing a long flaccid cock which dangled obscenely before her fear widened eyes. Shirlee had learned enough about the Manchu brand of sex in the past few days to know precisely what this man had in mind. He was going to force her to suck his cock and make it hard for him, and then he was going to fuck her helpless mouth the same way Manchu had fucked Hiro. The very notion sickened her, but the man was raising his hammer-like hand again, and she crawled submissively forward, deciding there was no point in losing her head for the sake of pride. She would end up doing precisely what he wanted in the end anyway, and she could save herself a beating by surrendering before he used his hand. Was this how the other model had lost her breast? Shirlee shivered.
The three men were crowded around her now, running their rough calloused hands all over her cruelly exposed body, totally ignoring the raging gulf around them. Two sets of hands were pinching and bruising her and a third set was gently stroking her smooth naked flesh like a child petting a whimpering baby kitten. At least somebody could see her agony! The first bodyguard stepped forward, a coldly sadistic smile on his broad Mongolian features, and before she knew it, his hands were at her lips, forcing her jaws apart and forcing the length of his steadily hardening penis into her throat. She could see nothing now but his penis, and her field of vision was restricted to his loins, his sperm-filled testicles and the two black tufts of pubic hair on either side of his long blunt instrument.
"Either you start sucking or I give you a chop on the neck," he grunted in Raj English. What did it matter? If they wanted her to fuck, she would fuck; if they wanted her to suck, she would suck. Vaguely, as she opened her mouth, she remembered the naive thoughts she had conjured up while watching Bu abuse Hiro in this same vile way. What had she promised herself? That she would never never allow a man to degrade her like this, and now it was happening in three-D color!
The black belt's hips jerked forward and the deed was done. His warmly pulsating hardness was in her mouth, and she could feel the huge rubbery glans sliding smoothly across her tongue towards the back of her throat and down her esophagus. The taste was strong and pungent, and she could feel his rigid shaft of flesh trembling with excitement. It suddenly occurred to her that it had been several days since this man had fucked a woman, and he was probably about to explode with lustfulness. In fact, there were already tiny droplets of sperm oozing from the turgid glans, lubricating his passage as he skewered his way deliberately towards the back of her throat. The man was holding her in his steely grip, his hands clasped on either side of her blonde hair, and she could hear him grunt with animalistic pleasure as the meaty tip of his penis pushed lewdly into the back of her cruelly stretched throat.
It was a provocative scene, even though the setting was all wrong. The brutal invasion of a young woman's virginal mouth should have been taking place in a plush bedroom with Montavanni playing in the background. Instead, the girl was kneeling nakedly and slavishly on the bare polished boards of a yacht, surrounded by a coterie of three thug black belts. One of the other two black belts was stroking himself as he watched his friend's bloated penis fuck into the face of the beautiful blonde. He had a finger already inserted in her warmly flowing young cunt, still moist and dilated from her sordid lesbian session with Kim. He had already chosen his point of entry and was simply waiting his turn, killing time by pinching and twisting the small buds of her nipples into hardness. The third man, the handsome one, seemed strangely aloof, and if Shirlee had dared to raise her head and look into his face, she would have been shocked to have seen the kindness there, a kind of Buddha-like compassion.
Shirlee could feel everything, but somehow the thought that she was being criminally degraded and humiliated made very little difference to her at this point. She was thinking about surviving, trying to calculate every move on the basis of whether or not it helped her to stay alive. Actually her mind was wandering, jumping erratically from thought to thought as if she were drugged. She had no idea how to perform oral sex on a man, really, but she had watched Kim teach Hiro, and the lesson was indelibly printed upon her mind. She wanted to get this disgusting task over with as soon as possible, and that meant coaxing him into cumming. There was no other way.
She sucked him in earnest now, using her hands the way Kim had, holding the man's sperm inflated testicles in one hand while she stroked the broad shaft of his hotly throbbing cock with the other. Licentiously, her tongue roamed over the wet, lubricated head of his cock, and experimentally she teased him by poking the tip of her tongue into the tiny open slit at the end. She could feel him already trembling and knew that he was going to cum soon. It would mean that his hot bubbling sperm would rush out of his body into her forever defiled throat, but somehow the thought no longer bothered her. The important thing was to endure it!
Her head was bobbing furiously up and down now as she struggled desperately to finish her task, sucking like a woman possessed to draw all the semen out of his body while the man grunted and twisted above her. Behind her, out of sight, she could feel the other man becoming progressively more restless.
"Come on, Sam," urged one. "Shoot it into her and let's get on with some real fucking." His accent was heavy Chinese.
"Don't wait, then. Go ahead and fuck her!" gasped the black belt, now fucking his saliva coated penis in and out of the girl's cock filled mouth, obviously caring very little whether he strangled or choked her.
The second black belt nodded in agreement and began running his lips hungrily down over the smoothness of Shirlee's naked back until he arrived at the crevice of her buttocks. His fingers went further, curling between the girl's tightly clenched half-moons and rummaging lewdly up between her thighs. First he moistened his middle finger by dipping it into the wetness of her cunt and then quickly transferred it to her tiny hopelessly puckering anus, teasing her unmercifully as he prodded her for the slightest sign of weakness.
The young woman jerked convulsively forward as she felt the man's outstretched finger worming its way into the depths of her offended rectum, but the motion only served to lodge the rigid cock deeper in her desperately gulping throat. She murmured in protest as the man behind her dug deeper and deeper, but the black belt was going wild now, plunging past the tight oval of her lips in a desperate attempt to make himself cum.
The tormented girl could feel the cock throbbing heatedly against the smooth moist insides of her mouth and forced herself to recognize the bitter truth about her predicament. This was it. He was going to cum in her throat and then while she was gagging and swallowing his hot sticky semen they were going to throw her forward on her belly and violate the virginal little hole of her rectum.
The black belt groaned terribly as if he were in pain and gripped her head with hands of steel, making sure that she could not escape him now at the crucial moment. His long thick cock began to jerk convulsively, and suddenly, hot streams of jetting cum splashed against the back of her throat. Shirlee gulped automatically, sensing that it was this or choke to death as the gushing wet sperm squirted hotly into her throat. Unconsciously, she clamped her lips tightly around his jerking penis, sucking him with all her might, driven on by the irrational thought that the longer she sucked his cock, the longer it would be before the man behind got to stab into her tortured anus with his lust stiffened rod.
"Come on, let's get her inside," urged the man who'd been plundering her vagina, catching hold of a guard rail as the yacht lurched suddenly to port, caught in the crest of a wave. The Emerald seemed to shake itself dry and then ploughed steadily ahead as a little sea water washed over the afterdeck and Shirlee felt the spray wash over her heated body. The sea seemed warmer than she had thought.
Suddenly the black belt yanked his fingers free of her anus, rising steadily to his feet. "Let's take her inside where we can have fun with her tight little ass," he chortled.
There snapped a bright moment of clarity in Shirlee's mind as she knelt submissively on the moist deck with the black belt's slowly deflating penis in her mouth. Bu Manchu was never going to let her go. She knew far too much about his jade smuggling operation, and he had mutilated other women for far less. He had thrown her to his sex-starved sailors like a man throws a beef bone to a pack of starving wolves. And when she had been violated and abused every way possible, and she no longer amused his bodyguards, someone would give her a karate chop in the neck and that would be that. All that sucking and fucking for nothing . . .
"Come on," the harsh voice struck her ears. "You're going with me." The burly man took her arm and hoisted her to her feet just as a big wave hit The Emerald, rocking the big yacht. The deck tilted to a forty-five degree angle, and the three bodyguards all grabbed for the nearest solid object, but Shirlee wiggled free. Suddenly, she was slipping and with a scream was falling across the tilted deck and plunging over the railing to the lower deck where she landed on top of the lifeboat and then all went black.
Forward in the wheel house, the ship's captain spun the rudder to bring the yacht up to meet the oncoming waves and the craft leveled out immediately. The Emerald was a sturdy vessel and it would take more than a storm of this magnitude to turn her over. The three bodyguards relaxed as the boat leveled, and they looked at each other questioningly, the girl's screams still buzzing in their ears.
"She's gone and jumped into the water just when I was about to get her in the ass," complained the second bodyguard, pulling up his pants.
The third black belt wasn't so certain of Shirlee's fate; he scurried down to the lower deck and rescued her bruised unconscious body just as a killer wave washed over the lifeboat, inundating it with water until the canvas floated on top. Deftly, he slung her naked body over his shoulder and ran for his cabin.
Chapter Eight
When Shirlee's lips touched the warm rim of the teacup, its steam unplugging her stuffy nose, her first thought was: God, I'm alive! Her delicate fingers spread out to touch the scratchy wool blanket covering her naked body and she peeked out through one swollen amber eye and gasped, a scream rising in her throat.
A hand, rough but warm, clamped over her gaping mouth, and her eyes flew open, wide and frightened. Now he would rape her . . . take her brutally in the rectum!
"Hush . . .," the most handsome of Bu Manchu's black belt bodyguards was whispering close to her face. "Don't make a sound. You are in friendly company." Supporting the back of her neck with his strong hand, he encouraged her to sip from the cup. She hesitated, certain it was laden with drugs. "You must be quiet or they will find you here and kill you," he was saying. "We must get you to safety." Shirlee groaned, her head throbbing, her body aching from the nasty tumble into the lifeboat as she stared into the kind eyes that belonged on some Buddhist statue, rather than a Bu Manchu black belt killer.
"Tomorrow we will be docking and taking a boat up the Pai River as far as Wei Phu Long. They will give you trouble at the port if you leave alone. You must stay in my steamer trunk until we reach our destination, and from there you can contact an embassy and explain your story. They'll help you."
They would never believe my story, thought Shirlee, wondering why one of Bu Manchu's thugs had decided to befriend her. She stared at him, noticing for the first time that he was a young man with wide set dark eyes that bespoke kindness and mercy . . . and very, very muscular. God, why didn't he touch her and get it over with?
"No doubt you are wondering why I am in sympathy with you and have not touched you." He asked her question for her. "I am sorry to see you badly treated by Manchu. He is a murderer, a thug, and I have begun to realize that this is no way for an honorable man to live," he explained, encouraging her to take nourishment. "I will help you to safety as this will be my last trip for Manchu. I am going to stay in Burma . . . unless they kill me first."
Shirlee listened as intently as a girl who'd been knocked unconscious for two days could. Something about this man's ethereal nature gave her the shivers and she lay nakedly quivering beneath the heavy wool blanket, waiting for his hands to slip underneath and maul her body. They didn't.
She ate ravenously and felt surprisingly refreshed. That night she lay in a bundle of covers, fighting off a fever and chill, watching as her good Samaritan bored breathing holes in his steamer trunk which would later be used to transport jade back to Bangkok. He worked assiduously, a true craftsman, a patient human being. She wondered why a handsome, muscle-bound knockout like this man Ti would condescend to work for a thug like Manchu.
Again, he read her mind. "You are wondering, of course, why I have put myself in the company of Bu Manchu?" He set down his tool and wiped a trickle of sweat from his satiny, smooth forehead, his eyes level and calm.
"Yes . . . that thought had entered my mind," answered Shirlee hoarsely, a tingle of excitement racing through her tired body as he eyes riveted on the smooth naked muscles of Ti's chest rippling as he worked.
Ti reached up to swipe a chock of black hair from his liquid eyes. "Bu Manchu is my father. . ."
* * *
A steamer trunk is roughly handled, and it was fortunate that the insightful black belt turned humanitarian 'had the foresight to pad it with down pillows before packing Shirlee's scantily clothed body into it and loading it aboard a truck and shipping it some twenty miles to the mouth of the Pai River.
Still, Shirlee was thankful that she was still alive. Suffocating in a steamer trunk, her body twisted into a pretzel, her limbs numb, was no punishment compared to the horror of staring into Bu Manchu's cruel eyes as he threatened to violate her rectum. Yes, she had much to be thankful for, she thought, passing the claustrophobic hours by piecing together the details of Bu Manchu's smuggling operation and fantasizing Chad Barker's praise when she finally stumbled into his Hong Kong office with her story. Shirlee offered a little prayer to the gods.
Chad Barker . . . did he have the whole force out looking for her? Did they have a line on where she was? Those thoughts were interrupted by the high voiced chirp of Burmese thugs. Obviously, Manchu's men had reached the Pai River and were about to load the boat heading up to Wai Phu Long where the empty trunks would be loaded up with jade and brought back to Bangkok after the Thai border patrol had been paid off in money and flesh. From the feverish chatter, Shirlee picked out Ti's Raj English, speaking loud and distinctly. "Yes, we will load that trunk now."
That was her signal. Shirlee held her breath and buried her face in the down pillows as Ti had instructed her, and covered her head with her arms, cushioning the blow as the trunk thundered into the bottom of the boat, crashing in an explosive thump.
"There," she heard Ti emphasize for her benefit. "The last of the trunks are loaded. We won't have to bother with them again."
Good, she thought wondering if she would survive another blow such as the one that had just rattled her body hard enough to rearrange her magnificent parts.
She managed to sleep for a few restless hours, and when she awoke, all was quite, save for the far away chatter of birds skirting the river for fish. It was around dusk, she guessed, plastering her ear to one of the breathing holes, listening for who was on the boat. It was obvious to Shirlee that Bu and Kim would not suffer the indignity or exposure of riding on the smuggling boat, and in her dazed state, she recalled Ti's explicit details of the operation . . . much of which she'd missed. Her head had ached pitifully and her eyes had been too busy watching Ti's biceps and chest muscles working to listen intently . . . and the heavy gold chain with the jade Buddha adorning his smooth neck had been mesmerizing to a woman who'd missed her last orgasm.
Kim, Bu and Hiro would be transported to Wai Phu Long via human porter where Bu would do the negotiating with the Thai border patrol, enticing them with Hiro's sleeky body, part of the jade cache and money, if necessary. From there, Bu would entrust his cargo in the hands of his bodyguards, all well trained in defense and the power of intimidation. At the mouth of the Pai River, Bu, Kim and what was left of Hiro would be transported back to The Emerald along with the jade. Part of the smuggled stones would be sold in Bangkok and the best would go to Hong Kong where it would be sold at a higher price.
Shirlee heard a long low snore and the dip of the paddles in the murky river waters as the boat slipped along smoothly. Mentally, she tried to imagine what stark reality awaited her outside the safety of her metal prison, and horror stories of snake infested river and jungles so thick the foliage grew back a minute after a machete had cleared a path. A shiver suffused her body.
Ravenous, she tore open the bag of bamboo shoots that Ti had given her and chomped on one, her pearly teeth sinking into the snappy vegetables and quenching her parched throat. The first nourishment in countless hours, she had barely swallowed down the first when her teeth went to work on the second.
A rustle sounded on deck and a voice boomed close to her ear. "What's that?" Somebody was on his feet. "What was that?" he repeated, sounding alarmed. "Sounds like somebody eating."
Shirlee swallowed the half chewed pulp, gulping, terror struck. That voice belonged to the black belt who'd bathed her throat in his cum. "Impossible," she heard Ti's voice in rebuttal. "No . . . I heard something. Sounded like somebody . . . eating . . . ?"
Ti threw back his head and laughed. "Must have been the gibbons."
"No . . . it was close up . . . like it was coming from the trunk." Heavy foot steps sounded and the boat listed as one of the guards rose to his feet. A scream built and died in Shirlee's throat.
"Nobody could survive those trunks. . . was probably a rat."
"Yes . . . a rat. . ."
Everything settled down, still Shirlee's heart thudded so loudly in her chest she was certain it was rattling the steamer trunk. Seconds turned into minutes and minutes into hours . . . and suddenly, in the midst of a dream, she heard the creak of hinges and saw daylight for the first time that day.
"You must get out now . . . hurry while it's still dark," Ti was whispering. "We are passing the Cove of Good Fortune on the way to Wai Phu Long where the trunks will be opened. Take this with you. It will promise you good fortune." He drew the heavy gold chain with the jade Buddha from around his strong neck and draped it around Shirlee's slender one, then bowed reverently. "I trust you are a good swimmer?"
Shirlee nodded in dumb terror, staring down into the murky waters, trying to make out the shimmer of water snakes.
"Do not worry about the snakes. The only one you need fear is the krait. If it bites you, you will die before you know you have lived. Do not concern yourself . . . you have more lives to live."
Shirlee glanced plaintively from the dark water up to Ti's smooth, unharried face and, teetering on tip toes, she kissed him gratefully on the cheek, knowing this might be the last time she kissed a man. He held her close enough for her to feel the throbbing bulge stabbing her in the stomach . . . but this was no time for such mind distractions. Raising her arms over her head, she plunged into the night fallen waters, dark and deep as the black hole of Calcutta, and scissored her legs for dear life.
Chapter Nine
A hot meal and a few hours of female company can do a lot for a man's spirit, and Tom Bailey was thinking precisely that as he lay on his straw mat, last night's episode in the village running through his mind like some corny B-rated movie.
Finding directions to the Da Nang prostitute's but was a simple matter, even for a man who spoke little Burmese, and when she greeted him at the door she seemed to know intuitively his wishes.
"Fuck?" she asked, and Bailey had repressed an urge to chuckle. To hear that four-letter word spoken with such honesty, was ludicrous.
"Yes," he'd nodded at her with a toothy smile, feeling desperately the need to communicate in his native tongue. "Yes, fucking . . . that's what I've come here for."
She ushered him into her meager surroundings and fed him first a meal of rice, vegetables and steamed fish. Later, he had handed her the jade rock which she fingered appraisingly, and apparently pleased with her assessment, she smiled and quietly undressed. Bailey watched, trying to feel turned on and not succeeding. His mind reeled back to Julie, remembering those heated nights back in Dayton when the sight of a bare thigh drove him wild with passion . . . now in the company of a naked woman, he felt nothing but confusion. Her breasts were small and firm, for a woman her age, but the pilot found himself wondering how many American men had kissed and fondled those brown nubby nipples. She's a whore, he kept reminding himself, but that did nothing to dissipate the sour memories of the Viet Nam war atrocities and his dead buddies rotting in their jungle graves not more than seven kilometers away. What threads of sensuality he'd managed to weave in those first expectant moments of meeting the whore, were swept away.
She stripped herself naked and lay down on her straw mat, glancing up at him with her slanted liquid eyes.
This is what you wanted, isn't it? He asked himself as he dropped his pants and crawled down on his knees beside her.
The small-boned tawny-bodied woman lay passively beside him, smiling that unchangeable grin as Tom stroked her breasts, enjoying the feel of human flesh but feeling no particular excitement. She submitted to a few random kisses and then took his flaccid penis in her hand and started to pump it skillfully. It felt good, being touched down there, and his cock stiffened slightly, but there was no passion, and the man knew instinctively that he was naked in bed with a woman but he wasn't going to fuck her. It wasn't that he couldn't . . . he simply wouldn't.
Perhaps any other man in that situation would have worried about his fading virility or a kink in his psyche, but Bailey had spent enough contemplative moments to know what the problem was. He could make love again when he found a woman who could make him forget about Julie.
The Da Nang whore looked up at him questioningly, her dark eyes sweeping over his face for an explanation. Bailey smiled back at her and put his arms around her softly receptive body, feeling strangely happy and wishing he could explain to this baffled woman what she had done for just being there. He had not wanted to make love to her in the first place, now that he thought about it. He had just wanted to be around a woman.
* * *
Tom strode purposely to the entrance of his hut and looked out through the canopies of teak branches filtering the morning sunlight in a hazy green. The man felt one with himself, calm and strangely happy, and above all, content to be alone. Perhaps the bustle of American life wasn't for him anyway . . . after living in this lonely uncomplicated stretch of forgotten land, people would only invite trouble, quarrels and fights.
He grabbed his fishing pole and headed out for his morning catch, burlap bag swinging over his shoulder which he would fill with driftwood for his fire. Whistling to himself, he ducked beneath the low hanging branches as he followed the beaten trail down to the river's edge, surveying the path for dried wood. He bent over, bracing his full weight balanced on one foot on a limb and kicked hard, crackling it when . . .
He stopped, squinting against the morning sun, when he spied what looked like a human body stretched out on the beach. For a moment, he had to force himself to go forward. The morning had been so pleasant and the idea of encountering a dead body would spoil his blissful mood. No doubt the body was dead and probably half eaten by rats and full of snake bites.
Decisively, he envisioned exactly where he would bury this corpse . . . alongside his burned up buddies back in the jungle. Maybe he'd even give it Last Rites . . . something he wished he'd done for his crew. Right now, to get the foulness, the ugliness off the river bank was his prime objective. He stepped a little closer and saw, as he approached, that it was a woman's nearly naked body and intact. The girl's feet were still lying in the water and little waves were washing up a channel formed by her outstretched thighs. Bailey stopped, feeling slightly ill and wishing that he did not have to go through with something that would upset him. He did not need to see another dead body ever again. Again, he squinted . . . the girl was beautiful, blonde and well proportioned like Julie had been.
Bailey swallowed dryly and looked down at the girl, wondering if someone had killed her and then thrown her into the river, or if she had drowned accidentally. The girl was definitely not Burmese, or even Oriental for that matter.
"Jesus Christ!" he gasped aloud as his eyes suddenly detected the slow, almost indistinguishable rise and fall of the blonde girl's breasts. She was alive! He bent over her quickly, touching her arm and feeling the cold clammy skin. He found her pulse, slow and regular. Certainly he couldn't leave her out on the muddy river bank with the snakes and gibbons.
Without thinking, he wrapped the bag around her unconscious body and lifted her into his arms. Eight years ago he would have been huffing and puffing, struggling with the dead weight of a woman in his arms, but these years of physical struggle had done marvels for his physical condition. It became harder trying to protect her from the low hanging branches slapping her in the face as he ducked under their obstructing weight, but he struggled valiantly until he reached his hut. Out of breath, he stretched her out on the straw mat.
"Oooooooohhhhhhhhh!" she groaned, turning her head to one side and spitting up a little water that joined the river mud in her blonde hair to puddle on the mat. Bailey stepped back and stared in confusion at the fantastic woman which fate had abruptly tossed in his lap . . . Fate or was it luck? The girl was beautiful, to say the least . . . probably in her early twenties, with high set breasts and long slender legs. The wet man's shirt that clung wetly to her body had hiked up above her naked loins and Bailey shivered at the sight of her blonde fluff of pubic curls as full and white as Julie's.
Just what I need . . . a woman to complicate my life. In two days she'll be well and out of here and 1'lli be left with a head full of haunting memories.
The girl stirred and moaned, indistinctly, her hand moving unconsciously to cover the golden fleece of her pubic region and Bailey felt an electric tingle in his cock, the kind of tingle he could have used last night with the Da Nang whore, if he'd wanted to get his money's worth. It struck him that the girl would feel shy and frightened, awakening in the presence of a strange man in a strange place, and he quickly pulled a blanket over her half naked body, rippling lushly with the effort of breathing. She was a magnificently put together woman and he had enjoyed staring at her curves and bumps, now that he knew she was alive. A few smudges of dirt muddied her satin cheeks, and Bailey stepped forward and kneeling down, wiped them clean, touching her resilient flesh. It occurred to him then, that he should remove her wet shirt and he deftly unbuttoned the cotton garment and pulled it from her arms, nipples stiffening automatically in the open air. Bailey felt a shiver of guilt, wondering if he'd done something shameful and despicable to the unconscious girl.
Don't fall in love, he told himself sternly. She'll wake up and walk out of here and you'll be left alone with more bad memories.
Still, he maintained a vigil. . . watching her every breath until her wakefulness came slowly and painfully.
Shirlee felt every muscle in her body limp with numb exhaustion from having been canned up in the steamer trunk, then poured into the river water where she'd fought against the Charlie horses to save herself from the snake infested river. Her mind was a swamp of confusion and hours passed before she dared to open her eyes. She lay quietly, trying to explore her surroundings by feel. She was laying on solid ground, covered with a scratchy blanket, the smell of moist earth and cooking fish mingling with the crackle of a warm fire not far away. Had Manchu's bodyguards fished her drowning body out of the water and revived her only to debase her again? No . . . she didn't feel drugged and she was not on a boat. Someone was in the room: she could hear the clatter of a pan and gentle breathing. Languidly, she opened one amber eye.
"Hello," a man replied in perfect English.
Shirlee's eyes popped open wide. He spoke English. Thank God!
"Are you okay?" He was tall and lean and very muscular, and couldn't have been over thirty-five years of age.
"I . . . I think so," she stammered and coughed slightly. "Oh . . . I can't believe I'm alive . . . or is this another lifetime?"
"Huh?" A whacko, thought Bailey. Just what I need . . . a dumb blonde. "I found you out on the river bank, half drowned," he said flatly. "You were unconscious . . . here, drink this. You'll need strength."
The tea had a nourishing affect on her and she drank it all down, grateful for the sensation of having something warm in her stomach. She eyed her rescuer quizzically. He was a strange one! He asked no questions and didn't seem at all curious as to how she'd ended up on that muddy foreign river bank half naked. She sat up, momentarily forgetting that she was naked and then blushed as she pulled the blanket up to cover her proud, creamy breasts.
"Am I near Wei Phu Long?" she wanted to know.
"Close by," the man answered carefully as if he were not used to the sound of his own voice.
"Oh . . ." She chewed on her lip, looking truly frightened for the first time since this whole crazy episode had begun.
"Have you seen any boats going down river?"
"No. .
"Then they're out searching for me! You see, I was locked up in this steamer trunk because they were going to . . . to do awful things to me and this man befriended me. Oh, God, they'll kill me if they find me!"
To her shock, he simply nodded, as if he'd heard this story many times before.
"Don't you want to hear the rest?"
"Not particularly." I've got enough drama in my life, he thought.
"They were criminals. . . jade smugglers working with the Karenni thugs that travel up and down the Pai . . ."
"Great . . . just wonderful," muttered Bailey.
* * *
To kill his bodyguard would have been a stupid move at this point of the game, but Bu Manchu was ready to do just that. "You saw her jump overboard and you didn't shoot her?" He pumped his fists into balls, his face livid with rage.
The long, low boat loaded with empty steamer trunks was anchored to the Pai River shores, Manchu scouring the banks with a high powered pair of Japanese binoculars, searching for the white skinned body of his captive on the muddy, bug infested banks. The deal was set up; the Karenni thugs were waiting for their arrival fifty kilometers down the river where Hiro and Kim would arrive via truck at the check point. Everything was perfect . . . except for this one loose screw that could blow the top of Manchu's well oiled machinery sky high.
Sam, the bodyguard, pumped his fists and gnashed his powerful jaws. He wished he'd kept his silence, but Ti's holier than thou attitude was getting on his nerves and now that Ti had rescued the English girl and let her go free, Sam's position with Manchu was in dark jeopardy. Worse . . . once the bond of trust had been broken with Manchu, he'd probably be lucky to get away with some broken bones. Still, he faced Manchu stoically:
"Chances are she's dead anyway, Bu. These waters are slimy with snakes. . . and if they didn't get her, the gibbons would."
"And if she isn't dead . . . do you realize what that girl knows?" Bu showed his teeth as he talked, his eyes bugging frog-like from his head.
The boat rocked gently as little waves slapped up on shore. Bu turned to his son. "What do you know about this?"
"Nothing, sir." Ti stared levelly into his father's eyes. "I know nothing."
Sam's liquid eyes were filled with hatred as he turned to Ti. "You said you heard rats . . . rats eating. You will pay for this."
Bu snapped his fingers. "Enough of this! Find that girl! I want that girl!"
Chapter Ten
"Rice . . . do you want more rice?"
"Oh, no thanks."
"How about fish?"
"Why, Mr. Bailey, are you trying to fatten me up for the kill?" she asked him teasingly. The remark wasn't well taken by the male party. The word 'kill' stuck in his throat. Shirlee saw his response, and realized how little she knew about this mysterious fellow who lived on the wrong side of the world and lived in a hovel with no distractions. For a moment, though, they had been behaving like a middle aged married couple, sitting eating dinner. She was wearing a pair of his hand sewn tie belt pants with a tattered shirt and whenever she moved, her ripely uplifted breasts moved and she saw him looking at her with a glint in his eyes, as if he would like to touch her, but couldn't bring himself to do it. Naturally, she wondered why. She pried for an answer.
"Wouldn't it make a great story if you and I fell in love and we stayed here together and ate rice and fished for our dinner and lived in this jungle and. . ."
"Forget it."
"I guess it would present problems, huh? Like what would I do for birth control and where would we send our children to school. . . ?" she said, realizing she was prying for an answer that was beyond this man's realm of thinking.
Bailey thought about Julie and the two children they'd planned on having. "You've got enough troubles without worrying about children . . ."
Shirlee drew a deep breath and sighed. "I guess you're right. The people I was with-the ones you don't want to hear about-raped me and then when I jumped into the lifeboat, they were going to . . . ah well, uh . . . do things to me in strange places. It's nice being with a gentleman."
"Don't be so sure I'm a gentleman, Shirlee," he admitted, his eyes focusing on the two dark spots which moved tantalizingly under the thin shirt she wore. "That's why we have to keep our distance."
"Did it ever strike you that we're in pretty much the same dilemma?"
"How's that. . . ?" Bailey picked up a morsel of fish and stuffed it in his mouth, then licked his fingers.
"I don't know how you ended up here, but I know it wasn't by choice . . . and I happened on the same spot. That's what I call a coincidence." She fingered the jade necklace charm Ti had given her. "Maybe it's called luck?"
"I doubt it," Bailey said balefully, stretching out on the straw mat for an afternoon nap. He had to close his eyes on this girl. Seeing her sitting there with the filtered sunshine making glimmering streaks in her hair was too much of a remembrance of Julie. Bailey was getting aroused again. He knew he could easily get rid of the girl by carting her down to the village and handing her over to the authorities, since she was in no way his responsibility. But he kept on making excuses to himself for keeping her there, and she seemed content to stay.
He stretched out on the mat while Shirlee cleaned out the pan with sand, the way he'd taught her, and when she'd completed her chore, she stretched out on the floor beside him and laid her head on his bare chest.
"What did they do to you?" he heard himself asking.
"They . . . they were going to make love to me . . . on the bottom," she choked out, feeling herself blush.
"Oh," he sounded disappointed. "That's when you fell into the lifeboat and the Buddhist-karate-bodyguard killer rescued you?"
"Come on, don't make fun!"
"Sorry . . ."
"Did you ever try it with a woman? I mean, doesn't it seem terribly unnatural?"
"Oh, I don't know. There are women who like it that way."
"Did you ever do it?"
"Christ, you're full of questions! Yeah, I had a girl friend who liked it that way when she was ahh . . . menstruating."
"Hmmm . . ." She got up and sauntered to the hut door. "I want to think for awhile. I'm going for a walk. See you."
For a moment, Bailey thought he'd grab her, mash his lips against her succulent ones and flip her down on the straw mat and fuck her silly. He didn't. ..See you. . ."
* * *
Shirlee was too preoccupied with trying to figure out this strange American to spot the boat anchored half a kilometer down stream. Going down the muddy path to the water, she saw a clearing not far down the river and decided to bathe in the sun; her obdurate night-time cough had been keeping her awake the past two nights and nothing was better medicine for that then a dose of sunshine. She stripped off her clothes and spreading them out, lay down on top of them and closed her eyes. When she heard the rippling of water and the hushed sweep of a boat nearing shore, she opened her eyes, wondering who it might be and whether or not they had seen her without her clothes on. She saw them, and understood everything in a flash. God, they had come for her!
She darted toward the hut but Sam's powerful legs had carried him out of the boat and onto shore before she could slip one foot into her pants. He hit her hard, sending her sprawling on the ground.
"I've got you now!" he grunted. "There's something you're going to do for me!" He pulled the tie of his pants.
* * *
Cursing something about Burmese legends and good luck turning sour, Bailey understood immediately that the boat anchored on shore meant trouble for Shirlee. Getting involved in somebody else's problems was the last business on his agenda, but he had to cope with what came to his door, didn't he? He grabbed his double-edged knife and barged out the door.
He raced down the path toward the river, now happy that he'd shed those extra pounds so that he could face this challenge in the best of form. Hitting the river bank, he stumbled and looked around for the girl, listening for her screams. The bank was thick with growth, and it took a minute for him to spot her. There was a tall dark haired man pinning Shirlee to the ground and he seemed to be fumbling with his pants while she struggled for freedom. For a moment, he was perplexed, because the position they were in seemed so odd. Then he remembered: they had been trying to fuck her in the ass, which was why she'd jumped overboard in the first place!
Bailey growled with rage and raced towards the struggling couple, his limp totally gone now as he moved silently with bare feet over the damp earth. He saw the man's iron hard cock was out and he was ramming it between the girl's widespread buttocks with all his power. Then the young girl was screaming with agony.
"Stoppp!" he shouted, hating to give the man this much advance warning, but hoping that he would still be in time to prevent this anal rape. Painful it was to realize that he was too late to save Shirlee from the thing she feared most. The bodyguard reared up on his arms as he heard Bailey's shout and the pilot could see his massively thickened cock already embedded in the delicate flesh of her rectum. The muscle bound thug was trying to pull himself free, to prepare to defend himself against the murderous onslaught he was facing, but fear had tightened every muscle in Shirlee's body and he was trapped inside of her.
"Aaaahhhhh!!!" Sam screamed as he caught sight of the flashing blade in Bailey's hand, but the pilot was temporarily berserk. These slant-eyed yellow-skinned bastards had shot down his plane, killed his buddies and now one was raping Shirlee. Snarling, showing his teeth, he stabbed blindly as he threw himself on the black belt and there sounded a wild scream of agony as the man's body tumbled suddenly free of Shirlee's savagely violated body.
"Aaaaiiiieeeel!!" The knife caught the black belt in the heart and sliced him like a filleted fish. He rolled on his back in pain, his hands reaching out in vain as if he could crawl back to the boat and somehow be saved. Acting in blind rage, Bailey yanked the knife free and a spurt of blood squirted into the air and puddled on the moist earth.
"You yellow bastard!" he screamed senselessly and, with white knuckles, plunged the knife in a second time. The bodyguard's face contorted with pain and he died.
Footsteps sounded behind him and Bailey shook his head, somehow expecting the bleeding bodyguard to sit up, wipe away the blood and go about his business. Shirlee had pulled herself into a sitting position and was looking over his shoulder in terror, a scream growing in her throat.
"Look . . . there's another one!" she gasped. Shirlee pointed to the second bodyguard who was scampering back toward the boat.
Bailey and the naked girl both were trembling in an adrenaline rush; both felt the same urgency to get back to the hut. Neither uttered a word and Bailey pulled the naked girl to her feet, hauling her up the path which led to his simple hut. She was trembling with fright, crying insanely, and the moment they were inside, she clung to him like a frightened child. Bailey's mind had long since gone blank. In the back of his skull, in that small portion of his brain that still functioned, he knew he had just killed a man. The man had been sodomizing this young girl he held in his arms, and he had killed with a purpose . . . to save her. Would he have done the same for any other woman, or was he hiding emotions from himself?
He glanced out the door. The shorter of the two assailants was in the boat now. Who were these people? They could hardly have jumped ashore just for a quick ass fuck. Who was this girl he held in his arms?
"Shirlee," he said, taking her head in his hands and kissing her lips to stop the sobs. "It's time we have a talk. There's something I'm missing out on. Who are those men? Why do they want to kill you?"
"Because . . . I work for the Hong Kong Border Investigation and . . . and I was working as a model for . . . a . . . a jade smuggler," she gasped, her body wrenching with sobs.
Bailey guided her by the naked shoulders down onto the straw mat and held her close trying to quiet her sobs.
Her body warm against his, she explained about Bu Manchu and the jade smuggling and how she had been drugged and hauled off on The Emerald through the stormy South China Seas, trapped in a steamer trunk and dumped in the Pai River. She spared no details.
Bailey had allowed himself just the tiniest bit of feeling for this woman and now he realized he cared for her . . . maybe even loved her. The yellow bastards had shot down his plane in this godforsaken corner of the world and now they were about to kill the girl he'd sworn to protect.
Sworn to protect? When had he made that commitment?
"We've got to get out of here, or they'll come back and kill both of us," she sobbed into his shoulder. Bailey knew she was right, and yet something within him rebelled. Yes, they could run into the village and hide, but the Karenni thugs would join up with Hong Kong black belts and what chance of survival had they then?
"No, we'll stay right here and fight them off," he decided, gently easing Shirlee down on the mat and walking to the door to peek out over the river. They were still out there and Bailey knew that the thugs would stop at nothing to get Shirlee.
"What . . . what are they doing?" asked Shirlee, desperately fighting to control her emotions. She stood up and moved to his side, still unconscious of her nakedness.
"They shot down my plane on this river bank, and its taken me seven years to get used to living in this jungle. They're not going to run me off now! Stay here!" The plan had formulated in his mind, complete with details, almost without him realizing it. This called for war! He darted out of the hut and scampered down the trail to where his buddies' graves claimed the clearing, and dug away at the mouth of the cave, pulling out the black market weapons. He knew these weapons well-that the Air Force had taught him well. A quick inspection showed them to be in good working order and he dragged them back to the hut where Shirlee was dressed again.
"I hope you don't mind, but I borrowed your last pair of pants," she smiled sheepishly at him. "But you don't have any more shirts."
Tom grinned back. "Okay with me. I could use a little stimulation right now."
He plunked down the ammunition, then made a return trip for the rest, piling high a supply that could wipe out half the world. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the men in the boat, then headed back to the hut where Shirlee greeted him at the door.
"We'll let them come in half way," he breathed quietly. He worked feverishly, loading the M-16 and checking the safety.
"I'm sure they have guns," Shirlee told him. "But I doubt Manchu will be with them."
"Too bad," growled Bailey. "I'd shoot the bastards balls off!" Bailey put the M-16 to his shoulder and took careful aim. The roar was deafening as he let loose with two rounds that slashed towards the boat but fell short of its mark. To his surprise, they didn't fire back.
"What's going to happen now?" Shirlee fully expected an answer, but Bailey couldn't comply. Still, he was the man in the situation, and to have her lose faith would ruin the image he was struggling to build. For some reason, having Shirlee view him as a war hero was a monumental concern. He cursed himself for not having opened fire closer to the shore; he could have picked off one of the four.
"They'll wait for darkness," guessed Bailey soberly, knowing the Orientals thought nothing of crawling on their bellies with the snakes and rats to get a pot shot at their enemy. "This is going to be a long night."
Bailey was confident of his tactics; this was all or nothing and if it worked . . . he couldn't finish his thought. Something like marriage entered his head, but he shook it off.
The boat was silent, anchored out there in the muddy waters; they were waiting for darkness and Bailey thought he understood their strategy-he hadn't lived around these people this long for nothing.
He glanced at the girl, still wearing only a pair of tie pants and realized that she had complete trust in his ability to save both of them. She caught his glance, smiling lopsidedly at him.
"I'm sorry I got you involved in this bloody mess," she apologized, remembering Chad Barker's comment about her ability to dramatize.
"You may be worth it." She caught him staring at her naked breasts and she blushed.
"Funny how I've suddenly been going naked all the time. It's embarrassing."
"Don't be." Bailey felt his cock hardening . . . not a tentative twitch or quiver, but a full-blown pardon. He saw her amber eyes shift down to the bulge in his pants. "A body like yours wasn't meant to be covered." His voice went hoarse when he said, "Take those pants off . . . they look ridiculous on you."
She nodded silently, as if she had been waiting a long time for this order, hoping it would come . . . and dropped the loose pants down around her ankles. As if she had never before been naked in front of a man, she suddenly went shy, crossing her hands modestly in front of her blonde V and then turned back to the straw mat. "I guess I'm not so brave after all."
"Let's see how brave I am after all of this," said Bailey, untying his pants and kicking them off. His hard virile penis sprang jubilantly into view, waving boldly before him like a battle flag and he saw the girl glance at it, then quickly look away. "It's crazy . . . we could both be dead tomorrow and it would be dumb if we didn't make love tonight."
Shirlee nodded soberly, her long blonde hair dancing across her bare shoulders as Bailey sank down to the straw mat next to her. He suddenly realized that he was facing the final test. He was jumping back into the real world, fighting gun battles and trying to make love to the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen . . . all within forty-eight hours. If he could succeed in this, he was a whole man again. It would make no difference whether he stayed here or found his way back to the States; he would soon have a choice. He considered trying to explain all this to Shirlee, but decided he'd rather show her.
Shirlee could feel herself shivering as Tom's hands swept over the softly yielding flesh of her buttocks and began to caress her sensitive inner thighs. For the first time in her life, she felt no fear. It made no difference what Tom did to her because it all had been done before and she had survived. This time she wouldn't have to control her emotions. This time she could give all she had.
"Oooohhhh!" she muttered, as he rolled her over onto her back, exposing the fullness of her lust arousing body to his eager hands. Her breasts trembled and hardened as his fingertips brushed lightly over them and another groan tumbled from her wetly parted lips, not from pain but from a new strange tingle which began throbbing insistently at the base of her spine. Through her mind ran the thought that Tom would stop if she asked him to. He had fought and killed to save her from Bu's bodyguards. She had a debt to pay!
This was the only way, really, that a woman could repay a debt of those proportions.
Bailey sensed that Shirlee wasn't afraid of him, that in this moment of intense passion and extreme danger, she needed the reassurance that only wild sex could provide. He was kneeling up between her outstretched legs now, his hardened rod of flesh pointing at her naked breasts like a dagger, his hands caressing the softly curling hairs forming the blonde mound of her pussy. He would have expected her to clench her thighs together defensively, but she seemed to want to give him everything and the thought filtered into the man's passion filled mind that there were probably no holds barred from him now. He could do what he wanted with this fantastic female which stretched out invitingly before him. That thought made him grow another inch longer and he lifted up her naked buttocks, placing his hungering lips directly over her quivering pussy lips and pushed his tongue directly into the wetly clasping sweetness of her cunt.
"Aaaaahhhh!!!" she moaned, feeling his long warm tongue slowly sliding up into her ecstatic cuntal hole. The man withdrew instantly, cursing himself for having pushed her too far and too fast. . ..
"Don't stop," she pleaded. "I . . . I can't say it."
"What? Tell me?"
"I'm ashamed," she groaned, turning her head away so that she would not have to look him in the face as she made her confession. "Those men on the boat did everything to me, everything a man can do to a woman . . . I think . . . at least all the things I've read about. I feel dirty and I wanted you to make me feel good again."
Bailey blinked in confusion.
"What can I do? What would make you feel good?" Christ, Shirlee, don't make it complicated now! "I'll do whatever you want."
"Then take me every way they did," she burst out. "And if there's anything I missed, I want you to do that too," she blurted out, unable to control her emotions any longer.
Bailey gulped, sat back, a little stunned, like a hungry man being offered a smorgasbord and an empty plate. For a moment, he looked desirously at her wetly throbbing cuntal alit which was presented up to him in sacrifice, but that was where he wanted to finish off. Now where to begin?
His lust widened eyes came to rest on her melonous breasts, rising and falling temptingly as she panted with lust. Perhaps there was something that Bu Manchu and his thugs had missed.
"Did they screw you between the breasts?" he demanded, slithering up her abdomen until his long throbbing manhood was lying comfortably in the narrow cleft between them.
"My . . . my breasts?" she stammered, not aware that men did such things. "No, they touched me there, but . . ."
"Then that's where we start," he decided. "Push them together."
Her eyes flickered shut with shame, but she obeyed, placing her hands on either side of her mounds and pushing them together so that his massive cock was trapped in the middle.
"Yes . . . yes, fuck me there," she groaned obscenely, now half out of her mind with the way in which this man was using her body to delight both of them. Trying to make it as good for him as it was for her, she squeezed the softly resilient mounds together as tightly as she could, so that the tiny hardened buttons of her nipples nearly touched and the warm gentle pressure on his stiffened penis made it almost as if he were buried deep up inside her cunt.
Bailey surged forward, the scarlet naked tip of his cock appearing high on her chest with each stroke and depositing a tiny spot of seminal fluid there. The girl was going out of her mind as he kept up a gentle rocking motion and after a bit, Bailey was forced to cut his pace for fear of cumming prematurely. He would not have thought that this strange perversion could affect a woman so profoundly, but the results were electrifying. Shirlee's brown eyes were open but seeing nothing and she gazed up at the ceiling of the thatched hut, her hips gyrating wildly on the mat below them.
Her unashamed excitement drove him crazy and Bailey remembering her licentious instructions to do everything to her a man could possibly do to a woman. The next step became obvious as his eyes focused on the red fullness of her lips. She kept licking them as she sprawled with her mouth open and Bailey nearly ejaculated at the idea of mouth-fucking this delicate creature. It was impossible. She would never tolerate that!
But everything meant everything and by God, he was going to give her everything! He moved further forward so that his knees were tucked up into her armpits and then slowly freed his wildly pulsating penis from the warm confines of her breasts so that he could move it up to the edge of her chin. Her mouth was still open and he longed to ram his turgid cock down her throat, but it was terribly important that everything he did to her she accepted of her own volition. She'd been forced to the limits already.
"I'm going to fuck you in the mouth now, Shirlee," he whispered, unable to bring himself to say the words aloud.
"I want you to do it, Tom," she whispered hoarsely. "Put your cock in my mouth."
Bailey knew that she had to have fallen under some erotic spell, something almost magic and. . . and lucky. He realized that she needed this badly, needed to free herself of the memory of what the others had done to her. Very good, he thought, he would save her from the horror of the past. They both needed to erase the past, didn't they?
Bailey put his hands gently behind her and lifted it off the mattress so that the mushroomed head of his cock was poised immediately before her wetly parted lips. He edged slowly forward, wanting to give her time to back out if that was her choice. Instead, she carefully took his cock in both hands as if it were a sacred object. Then she kissed it moistly, using her lips to push back the uncircumcised foreskin, a maneuver which made him groan with pleasure.
"Do it all the way, okay?" her face colored as she did her best to fight off a lifetime of moralistic training. "I want . . . you to . . . to cum in my mouth."
The man almost came on the spot with that last request! . . . but he restrained himself, watching with amazement as her head bobbed forward to accept his long thick shaft into her mouth. The movement sent a shiver of pure erotic delight through his entire nervous system as the scarlet ovals of her lips tightened sensuously around his eagerly pulsating penis. She began to caress him exploringly with her tongue and Tom could feel it swiping around the sensitive head of his cock, causing his hips to twitch involuntarily. She pulled him forward with her hands, stroking his sperm filled testicles with her gentle fingers as she took him all the way into the back of her throat. She was obviously inexperienced, but learning fast, and the man found himself grunting with pure animal joy as she sucked him with undeniable hungry and erotic pleasure. It was not the first time in Bailey's life that a woman had taken his penis into her mouth, but it was the first time a perfect creature like Shirlee had practically begged him to violate her mouth.
And he was making the most of it, pumping his wetly glistening cock in and out of her tight rounded hole formed by her red clasping lips and resting his buttocks lightly on the soft cushions of her breasts. His cock seemed like a living creature, jerking and twisting as if it wanted to crawl down her desperately gulping throat. She gripped him even more tightly with her hands, squeezing the sperm-laden balls until the pressure in his loins mounted to the bursting point and then went a little beyond it.
There was an explosion in his ears, a wild combination of sound and light and Bailey knew he was cumming like he had never cum in his life . . . even with Julie. The sperm was rushing out of his wildly ejaculating penis like water from a hose and instinctively, he gripped her head and thrust his cock as deeply as it would go.
Shirlee groaned, but it was a sound of ecstasy and he knew that she was on the verge of cumming herself, even though he had hardly even touched her openly gaping little cunt. Her throat was working gluttonously, gulping and sputtering as she greedily swallowed every last drop of his life-giving sperm.
"Oh Christ, Shirlee!" he gasped, feeling a sudden wave of intense tenderness for this poor creature beneath him. But if she was feeling abused, she didn't let on. Slowly, she eased his limp organ out of her cum spattered mouth and looked up at him and blinked.
"Did you like that, Tom?" she asked quietly.
"God, it was fantastic!"
"I want to make you hard, again," she murmured. "There's more we have to do."
Chapter Eleven
Bu Manchu was not pleased. He peered through his high-powered binoculars, his smooth-faced smile replaced with a glowering scowl.
"You're sure they haven't run off for the village?" he grunted, lowering the binoculars and sitting down in the boat.
"We'd have spotted them if they had," reported his second in command bodyguard recently assuming first place now that Sam was lying in the bottom of the boat with a knife wound in his heart. "And there's only one man?"
"Only one man. . ."
"Who happens to sleep with an M-16 under his pillow. .."
Ti Manchu sat in the back of the boat silent as a cat, taking in the conversation with one ear while his brain buzzed with his own escape plans and he said a little prayer over Sam's dead body.
"We'll get 'em, Manchu, don't you worry," encouraged the black belt.
Irritability and nervousness went hand in hand with Bu, and right now he had something to be nervous about: If the blonde haired girl succeeded in eluding him, his empire would crumble and he and Kim would have to go into hiding or flee the country like a couple of shamed ex-patriots. He shrugged his shoulders, chiding himself for his softness. He should have killed the girl right off. Manchu's lip curled in a snarl and glancing down at Sam's bleeding body, he kicked at the corpse.
"Get his body out of here . . . it's making me nervous."
Chapter Twelve
Feathery wisps of cool night air tingled in through the open windows of Tom Bailey's hut as he stood up to peek out the window and check the angle of the sun. His cock was still miraculously firm after all the places he'd put it in the past two hours. Through the filigree of over-hanging plants, he could make out the silhouetted outline of Bu Manchu's boat and his two bodyguards, sitting parrot-like . . . waiting. There would be time enough to deal with Manchu. Right now, he still had a few minutes left for Shirlee.
"Thomas. . . ?" she called to him and he saw in his amazement that the crazy blonde English girl still needed it. He scratched his head in perplexity as he crawled down on the floor with her, wondering what he could possibly do that he had not already done. The girl glistened with perspiration and the juices of a half-dozen orgasms which she had enjoyed, and she grunted with simple animal pleasure as he crushed her against his chest. She kissed him, and then surprisingly turned her back on him so that they were snuggled like two spoons.
"Are you sure?" he asked gently, his well used cock beginning to throb with fresh excitement as he understood what she was now offering him. Shirlee nodded.
Bailey stroked the firm rounded warmness of her flanks with his fingers, carefully spreading apart the quivering half moons of her ass cheeks. The girl was trembling from head to toe now, and then the man realized that he had better do what needed to be done before she changed her mind. Her tiny rounded anus flexed and pulsated in response as he stroked it, and he deliberately inserted his index finger as far as the first knuckle . . .
"Ohhhhh," she crooned.
"Am I hurting you?"
"Yes, but I like it that way," she confessed in a heated flush. "Go ahead."
He went ahead, stretching the fragile membrane as she sighed with pleasure-pain, screwing back against his finger with her buttocks gyrating. The man began fucking her with his hand, sliding his index finger rapidly in and out of the wetly clasping hole of her anus, trying to get her properly warmed up. But she wanted his penis, not fingers, and with amazement, he felt her hand close around his massively swollen genital organ, tugging him toward her waiting rectum. Bailey was not entirely sure it could be done, because the tiny opening of her dark red anus looked so pathetically small and the bulging scarlet tip of his cockhead so impossibly huge, but the choice was hers. Slowly, he ran the tip of his lust thickened penis up and down the wetly quivering crevice of her blonde little cunt, knowing that it would be easier if she were wild with excitement. She groaned a little and he shifted his attention to the soft flesh of her anal furrow. Licentiously, she ground her buttocks back against the hotly throbbing hardness, begging to be hurt, to be impaled. Her tiny anus was dilating, expanding before his eyes until he could see the soft pink inner flesh. Suddenly the urge to fuck her there became painful.
Shirlee gasped as he entered her, but she stifled a cry, not wanting him to know how much it hurt, because she knew that he could never understand how badly she needed him there. She had to be able to take it! Being fucked like this, being violated in the ass by a man she loved was the only way she could cleanse herself from what the black belt bodyguard had done to her on the river's shore. With a loud plop, his penis broke through the elastic ring of her anus. He was inside of her and he was enormous. . . as big as Manchu, or bigger. The pain was still there but her need overpowered it and she ground back against him fiercely, driving his mammoth cock deep into the painfully quivering depths of her rectum, deliberately skewering herself on his hardness.
"Tom . . ." she gasped. "Quick . . . all the way!"
The man surged forward obediently, his cock tearing into the sorely stretched anal flesh of her back passage. His balls slapped obscenely against the emptiness of her gaping cunt, but it made no difference now . . . God, he was hard and long and she was loving every hotly pulsating inch of him. She flexed her rectal muscles, trying to signal to him that everything was all right, that she could take this and more!
Bailey looked down between his tensed muscular body and the softly quaking cheeks of Shirlee's hopelessly violated anus and realized in a flash that she had chosen what was right for both of them. Tonight, there would be violence and killing. He would be back at war and he needed this to ready himself. The conventional kind of loving would have softened him up, but this was making him hard. He flexed his wildly throbbing penis, hearing her sob with joy as his shaft grew longer and harder up inside her rectum.
"Oh God, yes, fuck me like that!" Shirlee was babbling in a weird combination of lust and agony, feeling his wonderfully pulsating instrument jerking and plundering its way deeper and deeper into her widely stretched anus. They began to fuck each other hard, violently, the man stabbing forward with all his might and the woman answering each thrust with a counter-thrust of her ass cheeks. His fingers bit cruelly into her tender flesh of her flanks as he rammed himself home, time and time again, skewering her like a jackhammer. Bailey could feel the cum building inside of her, growing like a thing with a life all of its own, so powerful that he was almost afraid of it. Shirlee had lost total control of her body now, and she was fucking back against him urgently as he drove his thick pole of flesh into the soft buttery depths of her rectum, gasping with the obscene pleasure they were giving each other.
"OOOOOHHHHH . . . YES! PLEASE!!" she screamed when her climax hit, feeling as though her clitoris was on fire. Her nakedly convulsing body spasmed out of control, and she knew in an instant that she was taking him with her, making him cum as well because of the terrible pressure her inflamed inner passage was exerting upon his penis.
"Oh . . . Shirlee . . ." he grunted, feeling the long pent-up sperm gushing out of him once more as he rammed his wildly ejaculating rod all the way home up into her rippling rectal passage.
The last rays of sunshine were filtering through the plush Burmese growth as they slowly disengaged, the man's wetly deflated cock slipping with a lewd sucking sound from her forever-stretched opening.
"I did that for both of us," she whispered. "Do you feel strong now?"
"Strong enough to kill Manchu," he breathed and got up, slipped into his pants and snuck out of the hut.
Chapter Thirteen
Ti Manchu's stoic-faced composure easily twisted into numbing hatred when he heard his father's directions to contact his Karenni friends in Wei Phu Long and enlist their help in firing a few rounds into the blonde English girl and her companion with the limp.
Nonetheless, he obeyed as any son with a temperamental father like Bu Manchu would and, with a deep bow, he took leave on foot, skirting the muddy river bank toward the small village not seven kilometers away. Confusion rattled in his brain and something morally unsound thundered in his conscience. In essence, he was murdering the woman he had risked his life to save, a woman who was the embodiment of the only goodness he'd seen in his life. Somehow, that didn't make sense in any philosophy.
The low hanging branches slapped him in the face as he crept down the path, his decision cementing in his mind. In a small clearing not far away, he made out the thatched roof of a small dwelling and, assuming it to be the crazy white man with the M-16 rifle, he closed in and peeked through the window. Ti sucked in his breath and mumbled a mantra as his dark eyes fell on the stretched out naked form of Shirlee Canan laying on the straw mat looking horribly exhausted and used.
Shirlee lay half-comatose, waiting for the rounds of rifle fire and saying her prayers, expecting any minute to see Bu Manchu's lecherously, perfidiously grinning face in the but door. Would he shoot her, strangle her? No, both of those means sounded too simple for Manchu. He would probably hand her over to one of his thugs and let them karate chop her to death with their meat cleaver hands until she was a pulp of bloody meat. "Ohhhhhh . . ." she whimpered.
Ti was doing some quick thinking. If he should frighten Shirlee, she would certainly scream (that he knew; he'd heard her bloodcurdling voice plenty of times) and if she screamed, her short fused boy friend would come bolting through the door, killing everybody.
Like a jungle panther, he swung through the open window and leaped to her side and clamped a strong hand over her mouth.
Shirlee's scream strangled in her throat and she prepared herself for death in that second of terror . . . until she recognized the face behind the hand. "Do not be afraid. It is only me . . . Ti. I have come to help you kill my father. It is a deed that must be accomplished."
Shirlee listened wide-eyed and trembling. What could she do but trust him? Tom must know. .
Bailey was busy as a housewife on Saturday morning, arranging his ammunition for the big blast off. He was bending over, emptying the hand grenades out of their boxes when, squinting, he saw Shirlee's lush body crawling through bushes over the muddy river bottoms. Again, he squinted, his eyes adjusting but not believing what they were seeing. He raised his gun and aimed squarely at Ti's face.
"Nooooooooooo!" Shirlee shook with urgency. "He's come to help us."
Bailey stiffened. The gullibility of the female mind never failed to amuse him. "You think I'm going to trust that yellow bastard?" he rasped heatedly. Something about a son killing his father didn't set well with Tom, and how was he to know this wasn't some Commie trick to blow his head off? Still, it would be a relief to let somebody else do the dirty work; the taste of death still lingered in his mouth from this afternoon's killing.
Shirlee and Ti were on their feet, hovering in the shadows.
"I need only the weapons to kill my father. I need nothing from you as a man." Ti stood squarely facing Bailey who drew in his breath and spurted it out his flaring nostrils, appraising the man who was willing to accept the responsibility that, he, Bailey feared most: witnessing more death. Still . . . Shirlee had faced her worst fear and conquered it. His tired penis could testify to that.
With a curt nod of the head, Thomas A. Bailey stalked off into the night, the moon reflecting silver streaks off the M-16 slinked over his shoulder. This one-man war against Bu Manchu and his black belt cut-throats (not to mention the Karennis whose weapons he was preparing for fire now) was no fantasy fulfilled.
Keeping guard out in the bushes, Shirlee's nakedness goose bumped with fear, knowing that she might be a widow before she'd been a wife. At this point she would happily relinquish her post with the Hong Kong Border Investigation, if it promised Tom's safety.
The plan went into fruition. Ti Manchu would be Bailey's back-up man while the pilot took careful aim with his M-16. Directly across from Shirlee, Ti plastered himself behind tree after tree as he advanced barefoot and silent, skirting the river bank to a point less than quarter of a kilometer past his father's boat where he could see in the skimpy night shadows the outline of his father and bodyguard awaiting reinforcements from Wei Phu Long. Now and then his father's high-voiced chatter wafted up with the night winds onto the river bank where Ti stood sweating, staring at his father as an enemy and knowing he had to kill the man because of his evil dominance.
Deftly, Ti's strong fingers plucked the hand grenade from his belt and, without waiting for the gunshot to fire from Bailey's rifle, he pulled the pin and took careful aim, throwing the explosive into his father's boat. It exploded in a rain of blood and shredded flesh, not giving them time to scream. A blood river darkened the murky waters, choking the fish and sending a flock of ultramarine birds into flight.
"Goddamn . . ." Bailey lowered his rifle, after watching through the scope Bu Manchu's eyes bulge for a quarter of a second, before his head exploded like a water-filled balloon, squirting blood and brains into the air.
* * *
Shirlee wondered how it felt to have just killed your own father, but Ti Manchu was stingy with his answers.
"It is foolish to speak of the dead," he said curtly. "I have freed myself from my father's dishonor and now you can go where you wish. The Cove of Good Fortune has done well by all of us. I foresee much happiness for both of you."
With that simple statement, he bowed reverently and turned to leave, leaving Shirlee and Bailey staring at each other in silence. Now that the trauma had ended, the curtains drawn, they stared at each other blankly.
Bailey shrugged. "What do you say, Shirlee? Would you like to share my hut and fishing pole?"
Shirlee contemplated the offer a second, sorted out fact from fiction and assayed the situation quickly; she surveyed the virile body of her hero and was nearly carried away with the intrigue of it all, until she remembered the crazy set of circumstances that had landed her on this river bank in the first place.
"First, my love, I have to get back to Chad Barker with this story. If you don't want to come along, I'm sure Ti will help me get back into China."
Back to civilization? Was he ready for that yet? Bailey stiffened and something within him withered. People, hassles, money, quarrels . . . Maybe he'd been too close to Nirvana to realize this wasn't the wrong side of the world.
"I'll be here when you come back, Shirlee . . ."
"And then we'll go to England together and have babies?"
Bailey shuddered and nodded dumbly. "Yes, by then I should be ready to get back to it all . . . 1 suppose."
After a tight embrace, he watched the curly headed blonde English girl who'd brought havoc into his life disappear down the river bank beside Ti Manchu. Would he ever see her again? Her departing words echoed inside his rattled brain, and he felt a certain inner calmness. Yes, perhaps by the time she returned he would be ready to leave this peaceful existence.
