In the name of war, man creates his greatest atrocities on other men-and on women. Every war is a chronicle of one man using his position and power to do things that would not be normally acceptable in his society.
This book is a chronicle of a particular type of war, a war which was so subversive it stripped the combatants of their identities and humanity. In it, a nurse fell captive to a sadist who had in his power the most brutal and compelling weapon known to either side. The weapon was to be used to pursue the war, but the man, Major Li, sought to combine business and pleasure and use it to please himself.
The flowing of blood, the rending of flesh, the pain of death combine with the ultimate pleasure of sexual fulfillment in a macabre dance of insanity known as man's inhumanity to man. And yet, there are those who welcome such inhumanity.
It is an axiom that to know the enemy is to defeat him. It is hoped that the contents of this novel will help the readers understand the perverse desires of the sadomasochist so that they need never be threatened by them.
The Publisher
ONE
They were past the Chosin Reservoir, behind enemy lines, she thought, vaguely, through the pain and cold. Hamhung was just ahead, according to one of the English speaking guards. She made herself think of that, and of warmth and food. She forced everything else from her mind . . . the pre-dawn ambush on the road, the slaughter of the entire battalion, butchered in their sleep. Soldiers, medics and corpsmen, many of them sleeping the sleep of exhaustion in the slowly moving ambulances . . . all dead.
The nurses had been spared.
Yes, she thought, the slant eyes would certainly not kill the nurses. She knew that now. If she had known then, during the attack, she would have shoved the muzzle of an Ml in her mouth and pulled the trigger. Death would have been quicker then. Not slow. Not what she had witnessed these last few days.
These gooks wanted the nurses, and not for tender lovemaking. The slant eyes used the women as rage objects. Fifteen nurses had been captured on the road. Ten were still alive.
My Christ, how could men abuse women like that?
She remembered what they had done to Vicki, the little black girl from Chicago. Vicki had been the first, and she shuddered as she recalled what the gooks had done to her.
They took an early-morning break that first day. Right there, just a few feet off the two lane snow packed road they halted. The women had been in the middle of the column. When the gooks stopped the girls had been pushed along the rag-tag uneven line of men, going from one man to another. And each time the soldiers had appraised the nurses with no more than a quick up and down look, an occasional squeeze. When they saw Vickie, the only black girl in the unit, they nodded, smiled, whispered gutturally in their sing-song voices which had once sounded so musically cute.
Vicki whimpered as the men passed her down the line. Eyes on the ground, she let them handle her. She wouldn't resist. All the nurses had agreed not to. If they resisted the Chinese would make it that much harder on their captives. And, in the end, the nurses would be raped. If they didn't fight, their captors might be generous, maybe even considerate.
Realizing this, Vicki didn't fight. She didn't help, either, as the Chinese soldiers slowly flicked at the buttons of her insulated pea coat. With knives they slit the coat's folds and when the coat was peeled back like the skin of an orange, they began at the buttons of her dungarees. She bit her lip, but she didn't cry out as the shirt opened and the cold winter air stung her shoulders and firm, baseball sized breasts. The soldiers didn't touch her with their hands. They remained silent as each man waited for the platoon leader to see her, touch her, rape her and then pass her back to them. They waited as their race had waited thousands of years for their freedom. They would wait, and when their turn came at this slim, black woman-child, they would have her body and take what was left for them by the platoon leader.
Vicki stumbled on the ragged chunks of sleet-frozen snow. She fell on her back, legs spread wide. The yellow soldiers stared down at her, at the way her black skin contrasted in the early dawn paleness and luminescent snow. She lay still, not daring to move, afraid of arousing them as a vicious dog is aroused by sudden movement.
In the pale light the scene was an unearthly tableau with captive and captor framed in still, dark relief against the hard, snow covered earth.
The wind came up suddenly and unexpectedly and a distant copse of trees hissed and threw talons across the procession.
As though awakened from sleep the oriental troops, bulky like teddy bears, crowded around the fallen girl. She whimpered, chewed her lower lip, shivered. The gook soldiers surrounded her and she knew what was about to happen.
They were forming a barrier against the wind, their quilted coats shiny with snow. A thick, musky odor came from their packed bodies.
A hoarse, guttural command crackled. The soldiers at the head of the line moved aside and a squat, muscular man walked down the line toward Vicki. Thin gold braid along the bill of his cap showed his rank. He unzipped his jacket as he marched toward Vicki. By the time he was at her side his coat was off. From a hip scabbard he drew a six inch knife. The walnut handle was curved like a set of brass knuckles. He gripped the weapon and stood before the girl. His troops moved closer as the wind kicked harder. No one spoke or breathed.
Then the officer signaled for his second in command. The flunkie listened, head bent, and after the brief order was given, he pushed through the line to where the nurses were held captive. Without a word he grabbed Gwen, the tall, plump blonde. He dragged her by the arm, to where Vicki lay.
"You watch," the flunkie snarled. His English lilted, but that didn't take the terrorism out of his voice.
He held Gwen. The Chinese officer smiled at Gwen. He looked almost friendly. Then he turned to Vicki. He squatted and carefully slit the sides of her dungarees. He pulled the jagged cloth back.
"Oh, God," Vicki wailed.
Gwen turned away. The flunkie grabbed her head, twisted it toward Vicki.
"You watch," he snarled. "And then you tell your comrades what you see."
Gwen watched the officer pull his pants and shorts to his ankles. His legs were short and strong, the knotted muscles like twisted veins of a very strong, very old tree.
Through her fear, Gwen tried to keep her thoughts on a safe, superficial level. That way she would see but not feel the agony of what was about to happen. But then the gook officer thumbed back his foreskin. The cold air bit his telescoping penis. The organ grew faster. The tip blushed as blood pounded through the pale sheath.
Gwen watched, fascinated by the thick stub of male meat. The skin looked like lemon colored parchment.
The flunkie chuckled. "You like?"
"No," Gwen grunted. "No!"
The officer looked toward the source of the outcry. He saw Gwen's reaction; she was shaking, her eyes jerking away from the sprawled outline in the snow. Yet her eyes, wide and unblinking, didn't shift from the scene in front of her.
The officer grinned. His black eyes glittered under slitted eyelids. "Li will enjoy them both."
The flunkie giggled. Vickie's sobs diminished while the Chinese officer stared at Gwen. Gwen didn't flinch. It was like she was two people: the one being held captive, the other an impartial observer, doing her observing from a safe distance.
The officer swung back to the black girl in the snow. Rough hands seized the elastic band that held her panties to her smooth belly. He jerked. The elastic tore. The pinkish-white tricot ripped. The reinforced pubic cup made a soft, sucking sound as it pulled free of the wet thick pubic hair. The girl screamed as the chink officer jerked her legs apart. In his right hand he held the knife. The tip, like a devil's dildo, was pointed at her snatch. He squatted, braced his knees between her legs. He jammed this thumb into her snatch, wiggling the thumb to get her juices flowing.
Vickie opened wider. The heels of her army boots squeaked and cut trenches in the snow. The knife, Gwen told herself, is for show, to frighten Vicki, enforce his own masculine ego. That's what that horrible weapon has to be. It has to!
The captain's face was contorted with rage and lust. His eyes were large; pupils glazed with passion. A spasm shook his belly. Pre-come spurted. His cockhead was slick with it.
He gripped the knife blade between his teeth and lowered himself onto the black girl's belly. Grunting in a jagged rhythm that matched his own thrusts, he slammed into her. Vicki shrieked as the first painful cock thrust tore her unyielding loins apart. Then, as he penetrated deeper and her cunt adjusted to his weight, the pain subsided and was replaced by a discomfort which wasn't unpleasant. She shut her eyes, shut out the cold, shut out the brute force that plunged into her cunt and tried to remember her man back home. And then he was there, turning her frightened, unsure cunt into the responsive vessel of a woman being turned on by the man she loved.
Vickie threw her legs around the wheezing yellow officer. Her heels gouged his kidneys but he didn't feel it. Her belly heaved. Her breasts jiggled. Her nipples were pebbles, scraping the harsh fabric of his shirt.
In and out, faster and faster, until he bellowed, slammed ahead one final time and shot hot jizz into her. Vicki shrieked, feeling the ejaculation. Thrashing her hips from side to side, up and down, she came. One last time the man lunged into her hole, draining himself. She tightened her crotch to hold the last of his juice. Eyes shut tight, Vicki didn't see what was about to happen.
As the officer squirted his cum into the black girl, he opened his jaws. The knife dropped and he caught it by the handle before it struck Vicki's belly. Balancing the ugly weapon, he paused, then pulled back. His still hard cock slapped Vickie's thigh. She flinched but remained with her eyes closed, savoring the remnants of her fantasy. She didn't notice the snow packed around her ass cheeks and in her crotch.
The chink captain lightly traced his big cock-vein with the blade tip. His organ stiffened. He lowered the blade, pointing first at the black girl's come-slickened bush; then her goose-pimpled, flexed thighs; then at the tiny curled navel. Like a child trying to select a favorite toy, the knife blade moved along her belly to her breasts, an inch above the dark, sweet flesh. Vickie felt the sharp presence without actually feeling the sharpness. Her eyelids fluttered. The blade, just beyond her field of vision came down like the kiss of a gentle lover against her cleavage. The cold sharpness bit her already numb skin. She didn't feel the blade turning, slitting the dark-red of her flesh. A narrow cut and a tiny rivulet of blood started toward her ribs. The warmth thawed the numbness. The heat spread downward, to her stomach.
Vickie felt the heat and, when Gwen screamed, she knew what was happening. She couldn't move. Fear paralyzed her. Not even the steady, rising wail from Gwen freed her imprisoned limbs.
Gwen trembled. The sight of the naked black nurse, her naked attacker, his hard cock poised over Vicki's cunt, all made Gwen hotter. Gwen's cunt juices gushed. Her clit vibrated. For the first time since the nightmare called Korea began, she felt a passion unlike anything she'd ever felt before. She knew what was making her passionate. And it wasn't this gook's cock. She'd seen plenty of those, many of them strangers, some fairly familiar and even one or two that she had really cared for. So it wasn't the prick, or the impersonal rape which, to Gwen, was the ultimate show of male domination-female degradation.
It was none of these things that got her excited. What it was . . . was the one thing she didn't want to admit to herself.
She watched the ugly weapon turn and turn again until it was blood-flecked to the hilt. She watched her friend's belly become a crisscrossed gully. She listened to her friend's high-pitched screams and felt no remorse. She observed from a great distance, too far to be directly involved, as the desire to be kissed that way rose.
Her belly muscles rippled. Her breasts strained against her bra cups. Heat hardened her large, solid tits and tightened her breast tips.
Gwen could cope with her fevered reaction and, in fact, had . . . many times on dates when the man wasn't quick enough. Men always insisted on those damn preliminaries instead of jumping right in to the main event. She tried to keep her mind off her straining, vibrating gland packed into the dewy muscles which were racked with spasms.
Gwen couldn't sublimate the urge that stiffened her clit. She had to have release. She had to!
Gwen's arm was still locked in the soldier's grip, but he was enthralled by the show on the ground. Gwen saw his cock, rising and straining. He only glanced at her from time to time. His yellow face glistened with sweat. She eased her free hand under her jacket, then under her uniform belt. Her fingers were cold but they warmed fast on her plump stomach.
When the girl on the ground screamed one last time, Gwen's guard turned toward the sound. Gwen shoved her finger inside her panties, tearing the gauzy fabric. The tear, a fragile sound against the larger fabric of Vickie's agony, sounded at her like the howl of hell. For she realized the one thing about herself that she had kept buried all these years.
As Vicki writhed, her gouting blood drenching the gray snow, Gwen rammed her index finger into her humid, muscled cunt, striking her clit. Her curved wrist was cramped against her flesh, and the heavy metal buckle. Her movements were limited. But she had enough space to savage her clitoris.
The brief movements were enough to catch her guard's attention. He grabbed her wrist, jerking her arm.
"Bitch," he hissed, "white bitch. You like!"
He whipped one leg behind Gwen's leg and forced her to fall back, knocking the wind out of her. The guard, fell with her, shoving a knee between her legs as they went down. His breath was hot, syrupy sweet. The stink of armpits rose with the aroma of musk that issued from Gwen's cunt.
She was on fire now and the heat kept her from feeling the cold dawn. She barely felt the rending of her pants and shirt, the rough hands tearing her bra and panties. She didn't feel the thumbs pulling her open, exposing her clitoris or the cold ground on her round, naked ass.
His cock was burning into her flesh. She kept her eyes open. She saw his lips drawn tight across stumpy yellow teeth; flesh strained across large cheekbones; eyes slitted, the irises glimmering; the uneven strands of straight black hair that protruded from beneath the cap. She saw, and what she saw heightened the ecstasy of being raped.
He slammed deeper into her hole, bruising, hurting. Gwen came once, twice, a half dozen times more before he shuddered and thrust like a pile driver for the last time. His come scalded all the way to her aching breasts. Her body was sheathed in sweat. And, for the first time in her twenty-five years, Gwen was totally satisfied.
The guilt, she thought as he withdrew, will come later.
But it didn't. The long cold days passed, and the nights passed and with each night on the road another woman was fucked brutally as they tortured her to death.
But they didn't touch Gwen again. And she wondered why.
After breakfast of the sixth day, the squat, sadistic officer and his aide separated her from the other prisoners and took her into the officer's tent where she was told to sit on a deck chair. She was given brandy. She coughed on the strong bitterness but was glad for the warmth.
"We hope you haven't caught pneumonia," the chink officer said in perfect English. His aide took a blanket from the cot and draped it over her shoulders. The out-of-character thoughtfulness startled Gwen but she was thankful for the unexpected warmth enveloping her.
It's my turn, she thought. Her pussy tingled in response.
"Why the concern?" she asked. The fatigue and brandy eased the fear. "What's one more American nurse to you?" she knew she would die as the others had-horrible, but with a cock in her cunt or her asshole or mouth. And it still excited her.
"A rare woman like yourself is. . . . " Smiling, the officer shrugged as he couldn't" find the right phrase. "It isn't what you are," the officer continued, pouring more brandy. "It's what you can become that makes you special."
Sudden fright leaped in her. She let it pass without visible reaction.
"Our commander has been looking for certain women, but so far hasn't found many. None, in fact." The officer lit a cigarette.
"What kind of woman is that?" Her voice was steady. They weren't going to kill her. But they could still abuse her and the excitement at that was hard to hide.
The aide was at her side. "The woman he wants must enjoy what you enjoy," he said against her right ear.
The aide was seated beside Gwen. She hadn't heard him move the chair to her, or heard him sit.
"I enjoy . . . " Where were the words? Why couldn't she find them?
"Yes, what?" the officer said. He grinned and passed her his cigarette.
"What I enjoy is comfort," she said after sucking desperately at the Paris-made cigarette. The hot smoke threatened to explode her lungs.
"You could be naked, on an iceberg, with only the heat of a man for comfort, and you would enjoy it, if the man was forceful and brutal," the officer snarled.
The suddenness of his reaction made Gwen jump. She spilled brandy across her knuckles. That reaction, like her reaction to Vicki's death, shattered her outward stoic pose. Showing her vulnerability frightened her more than what she'd seen these last few days.
The aide tossed her a handkerchief. "Don't stink up the blanket. It's the only one I have."
"Corporal Kang and myself aren't field soldiers, even though we served our apprenticeship in the field. We were pulled from the ranks and trained for . . . well, as you Americans say on your induction posters . . . Kang and I were trained to induct very special people to do very special work for us."
"Induce is the word, not induct," Gwen said, to give herself more time to figure out what the officer was trying to tell her.
"Induct, induce, seduce . . . what does it matter," the officer waved his hand.
Cued, the corporal left the tent.
"So, I've been recruited? For what?" Gwen sat back, blowing smoke columns at the short, husky officer. Her thighs trembled. She wondered if he would fuck her here, now.
"First, I'm Captain Wong. And second, you should know, nurse Gwen, you must do anything I tell you." He didn't snap the words. He grinned pleasantly and put his hand between her legs.
The wood frame and canvas chair squeaked and wiggled as Gwen's hips moved in response to the urging of his fingers.
He smiled. The brandy was already a swollen sponge inside Gwen's brain, numbing the fibers. The blonde nurse was deadened enough to hear, understand and fully believe what he was going to say. Before he began, the captain made a mental note of how much brandy it took to put her into this relaxed, trancelike state.
"In very simple terms, my major told me to tell you that he enjoys the company of big, blonde women. You are a big, blonde woman and, therefore, you have been spared. Ham-hung, my dear, is a very beautiful place. Even in the winter."
The bow-legged corporal returned with a package. He placed it at the captain's elbow.
The captain pushed the package across the narrow table. "Please open it."
"A Care package already?" Gwen giggled.
As she slipped the thin cord from the brown wrapped oblong package she couldn't help but feel guilt at escaping death. Her friends had already died, or were going to while she was headed in the opposite direction. Still, survival was ingrown in every human being. She had to survive even if it meant rutting with the animals. The guilt was that she knew she was going to enjoy it-fully.
She threw back the wrapping, and gasped. The dress inside was sheer, black silk. It was electric to her touch. Carefully, she laid it on Captain Wong's field desk.
"May I wear it now?"
"Uh, not now." The officer smiled in his friendly way. "Later. After you've bathed."
"Yes, that would be better." She looked up. "No point in dirtying this lovely dress."
"None whatsoever." The captain sat up, produced a small notebook from a jacket pocket. "Now, I have work to do." He snapped his fingers and Corporal Kang appeared at the tent flap.
When they were gone, Captain Wong made a quick notation in the book before pouring another brandy. The odor of her pussy clung to his fingers. He was careful not to mistake his glass for hers. Only a thin coating of the drug along the rim of her glass had induced her illusion. The nurse might be brainwashed without other physical inducements. But, then, Major Li would insist on them, he mused as he picked up the tattered, foul smelling dress and stuffed it in the trash basket on the ground by his feet.
TWO
Gwen was taken into the town, separately. Captain Wong and Corporal Kang accompanied her into town. She wore a blindfold which the captain said was a formality. In her case it really wasn't necessary, only a matter of policy. He offered her a brandy and she didn't balk at the blindfold.
The ride was short. Gwen felt cement under her feet, then a door opened and she was standing on carpet. It was warm, and smelled clean wherever she was.
"Please," Captain Wong said behind her, placing a hand at her spine and exerting a light pressure. A sexual thrill raced through her body from the 'ouch on her buttocks. The captain's body heat diminished as he retreated. His footfalls were masked by the carpet. Another door directly in front of her opened. Faint footsteps approached. Body heat rose before her. Then smooth nailed hands, smelling of soap and cologne, touched her face. The blindfold came off and she found herself staring at a tall, slim unbelievably handsome Asian man. The suit he wore was reddish-black silk that shimmered as he reached a hand toward her face.
As he touched her cheek she marveled at how young he was. No more than thirty, without a blemish on his tanned, handsome face. He reminded her of the part Charles Boyer played in a long ago film about inter-racial marriage in some mythical oriental kingdom. Handsome, unbelievably so. And appealing. She felt her cunt moisten.
"You're even more attractive than Captain Wong said." His voice was deep and seemed to surround Gwen.
"And you're gorgeous." Her voice was distant. But that didn't bother her. Nothing bothered her all of a sudden.
"Please." He touched her arm with his hand. The cool diamonds on his fingers contrasted with the heat of her feverish flesh. This sudden rise in body temperature didn't worry her. either. She was relaxed, at peace, without a worry. Why should she worry? This doll of a human being was attractive . . . more than that, actually. And she sensed that the pay-off to this meeting was waiting in the next room. She constructed a fantasy of the bed, and them in it.
For a moment she remembered Vicki. What she felt for this man mingled with the memory of that lovely black girl from Chicago who was in a shallow grave on an unnamed road in this hellhole of a country.
"You seem tense," Major Li said as he held the chair for her.
She sat beside him. "I was thinking."
"About?" His hand was poised over a bottle of wine.
"Us."
"Oh, yes?" His voice took on a melodious timbre.
"And someone else."
"You frown. Was it someone that hurt you."
"In a way. She was hurt. Terribly."
"And that hurts you?"
"She and I were never close. We had a pleasant working relationship. That's all."
"Then, why. . . . "
"Your people gutted her. And that. . . . "
"Sickened you."
"Aroused me."
It was said, finally. Facing it lifted the ice blanket on Owen's heart.
"My men are peasants, unschooled in civilized ways. They are capable of providing me with what I need to maintain a civilized way of life here, in the back country." He poured wine, offered her a glass and waited for her to take the first sip. "Like it?"
"Delicious."
"I'm so glad you're here." He squeezed her knee. "What is your name."
"Gwen."
"I'm Li."
The meal was simple but well prepared and enjoyable. Gwen ate without tasting.
Major Li patted his lips with a silk napkin and slowly pushed back his chair. "It's late and I imagine you want a bath before retiring."
"Retiring? Is it that late already?"
"I wasn't thinking of sleep." He touched her hand. Currents of electricity shot through her arm, across her breasts, down to her belly.
Owen's fantasy had been on target. The bedroom beyond the dining hall had thick oriental carpets, red drapes and light wood paneling. There was a loveseat of pale blue velvet and beside that a dressing table. The other piece of furniture was the bed: a giant four-poster that could sleep an army.
"The bathroom is there." Major Li pointed.
"Won't you join me?" She crowded close to the Chinese major. She touched his chest, felt the slam of his heart.
"Possibly." He fanny-patted her toward the door, his fingers brushing her anus. "Clean yourself, first. Then maybe T will scrub your back."
"Oh, yes, darling." Gwen trembled all over. She could hardly wait for him to rape her ass. Before closing the door she looked back, and said, "Please hurry, Li."
He smiled. "Yes. I'll hurry."
His voice had an unexpected sharp edge. Gwen shut the door, wondering why. Well, the hell with voices. She wasn't Joan of Arc and didn't give a crap about voices. Stepping into the shower she began fantasizing. As the hot water cascaded over her stiff-tipped breasts she tried to imagine the major's cock in her. doing her, over and over, until she was drained.
"Mmmmmm." she said, before she realized she was going to say it. "Ah."
The water was so soothing. The soap smelled so sweet. All the tiny knots began to unwind. After a few minutes the only knot remaining was between her legs. The tenseness began at her thighs and shifted to her abdomen, and up to her breasts, then back down to her vagina. That little thing was pounding again. It felt heavy, painful. The pressure built but Gwen resisted. The water was hotter now and she was beginning to weaken. She switched to cold and the ice water bit into her swollen breasts and taut stomach. She did a little dance, under the spray, out of the spray, until her body temperature adjusted. Then she forced herself to remain still as the shower spray bit into her soft tits like thousands of little needles. She cupped her breasts, letting her thumbs gently massage the stiff peaks. But gentleness didn't ease the ache. She increased the pressure. When that didn't help, she lightly, then sharply pinched the thumb-sized nipples.
"Ah, yeah, yeah, that's better."
She continued squeezing as her hips slowly rocked. Goose flesh exploded. Her eyelids fluttered. The steady tattoo turned her skin pale. Her tongue darted across her lips. She chewed her lips, salivated, ached to taste Li's cock. Her hands dropped down her ribs to her belly. Her O-sized belly button exuded a sharp, musky aroma. Gwen was going to come. Any second now. She traced her navel, then let her hands drop to her thick, pale brown pelvic hair. The forest was slick with heavy jelly. Lust oil spattered her thighs and the cold water streamed down, making rivulets of dirt on her thighs, to her knees. She parted her legs. Her hand cupped the puckered labia. Thumb and forefinger found her clit. She pinched the swollen, throbbing gland.
"Uh," she grunted, tightening and relaxing her buttocks. Her ass cheeks quivered, lifted and lowered as she began to move slowly, swaying from side to side. "Li . . . Li. . . . "
"I'm here!"
And, he was. Somehow he'd entered the bath room without Gwen hearing. Wiry, all muscle, without blemish. And the most beautiful thing about him was his cock. It was monstrous, yet a beautifully awesome weapon, big veined, crimson-topped. Fully extended. Pointed right at her.
"Oh . . . oh . . . " she whimpered, shoving her finger into her vagina.
The Chinese major pulled her hand away from her pussy. "No, Gwen. Not that way. Not when I am here."
He spread the nurse wide open, lifted her in his arms until her arms were around his neck. He spread his legs, then slowly lowered her until her spread-open vagina was positioned against the head of his prick.
"Yes, yes," Gwen screamed, thrashing her hips against his smooth skin, burying her face in his thick, matted hair, kissing his skull, his forehead, while her breasts pressed his lips.
He kissed, then chewed the stiff red nipples. But Major Li didn't lower her onto his cock. Gwen forced her hips downward. But he held her fast, allowing only his cockhead to enter her slot.
"Oh, please, please, I can't . . . can't wait any more."
Her screams echoed off the tiled walls.
"Let me lead. Gwen, and I will make you feel an ecstasy that you've never felt before."
She groaned, threw her head back, letting the ice water of the shower fill her eyes and mouth.
He eased her down. Her belly slid against him. When her feet touched the floor, with a soft slap, he pushed her down, shutting off the water as she sagged to the cold tile. It was winter, she was outside and the snow was burning her naked bottom again. That quick fantasy passed and once again she was with Li. He pushed her onto her back.
"Yes," she screamed as he squatted beside her, opening her lips with his hands.
His face was passive, relaxed. No emotion showed in his eyes. But she didn't let that interfere with the strange feelings that dominated her twat.
"Now, I will lead," he repeated.
"Yes," she whimpered, all fight gone out of her. "Oh, please hurry. My cunt. . t . "
He was at her side, squeezing her breasts, rolling those massive solid spheres with skillful hands. His thumbs pushed down on the nipples. They flicked up. blushing cherry-black, when he let them go. He made a move to kiss her on the mouth but then stopped, rolling onto her belly, pushing back her labia. She flung her legs around his smooth hips, locking him with her heels, drawing his cock to her cunt. His cockhead penetrated her. It was like a branding iron when it finally found her clitoris. He forced down, squashing her buttocks against the tile. Gwen's spine hurt, but that diminished as he explored every aching muscle in her twat. He began slowly and she had to hold back to avoid taking control. Let him lead, she told herself. Once, twice he struck her clit with his swollen pecker. He was going so slow . . . too slow. But she wasn't going to rush.
With each pass, the throbbing in her slit intensified. It didn't hurt, though. In fact, as the sensation increased Gwen found herself liking it. This was something she'd never experienced, something she'd have to have from now on.
"Are you ready?" Major Li was poised. His cock seemed indifferent to the ready heat of her twat as her hot muscles sucked his dick.
"Yes," she bleated.
He picked up the pace, bruising her, making her love the feeling of his hard rod thrashing the inside of her hole.
Gwen was coming, exploding, her heart thundering, her body alive with a thousand different sensations. For the first time she was totally alive, experiencing orgasm as though for the first time.
He was plunging his prick in her, ramrod-ding her with that deliciously hard, massive cock. She unlocked her grip on his backside, threw her legs wide and toward the "ceiling, and kicking, flinging her pelvis harder against him.
Major Li stopped suddenly. Before Gwen could react, he pulled back and twisted her around, face toward the floor and forced her shoulders against the tiles. Her nipples were crushed against the cold ribbed hardness and her belly rubbed against the puddles that had gathered there, squishing the cold water between her cleavage and thighs.
"Now, my dear Gwen, it must be my turn."
She felt his weight on her back, felt his hands spread her buttocks.
"Oh, no . . . no . . . oh, my Christ, no . . . not that. . . . "
Her voice echoed and re-echoed. Yet it wasn't really her voice at all. It couldn't be, since what she really wanted was what he was about to do to her.
He held her ass cheeks open. His cock slowly entered those snug inner muscles. She twisted and turned beneath him, but not too much, just enough to excite the brute that was in every man. His shaft steadily advanced until the head struck the curled inner asshole. She bellowed as his pulsating prick reamed her, right up to her belly, making her own bowels rumble. Her belly was hot now and that heat spread quickly. She worked a hand under her belly, between her legs as his cock shoved in and out of her asshole. Gwen reached her hole without spilling him off, or slowing his jagged, rapid rhythm.
Major Li rammed his thick cock in and out. drawing back just far enough to make another deep advance. Once his cockhead fell out, but he stuffed it back in, missing only a single beat.
While exploding stars passed through her head, blinding her, Gwen pinched her clitoris, matching the inundation of come that spilled in her and splattered out and across her tense buttocks.
Then, as suddenly as he had penetrated her rectum, he withdrew. His wet cock slurped out of her sucking asshole. Something sticky and hot and putrid fell across Gwen's rump. Her own waste, she imagined distantly. Well, it was a part of her, just like her own orgasm.
"Waste not, want not." She laughed softly, inhaling shower water as she remained on her belly, the dull pleasurable aches gradually subsiding.
Major Li stood over her, his face impassive as he made rapid calculations in his head. Brown feces remained on his cock head. Hon-would she react? Was she ready? From the way she accepted what he'd just done, Major Li knew she was ready for the next step in her "treatment."
"Here," he said softly. "A present." He jerked Gwen onto her back. Her eyes were heavy lidded. She was seeing him through a mist.
"Wha . . . ? " Her mouth was dry, parched. Her body was relaxed. She was totally at peace.
He squatted, his legs on either side of her shoulders. "I want you to clean me. Like a cat cleans its paws." He leaned forward, bracing both palms over her temples, pinning her long blonde hair against the floor.
The smell was strong. But it was no stronger than her own smell when she was coming. And it was a part of her. Eyes shut tight, in case she couldn't stand the sight of it, she opened her mouth and pretended that she was taking just the cock of the man who loved her, the man she loved with a bizarre intensity. He shoved his cock down her throat and she gagged, choked on the taste. But as her tongue beat the shaft the taste changed, became a bitter sweet confection . . . one that she was addicted to. She suckled ravenously, sucking him in deep draughts. The come exploded, nearly choking her. She swallowed rapidly to keep up with the spurting, sweet juice. Then his cock shaft deflated and withdrew. He hovered above her, dripping that opaque sweetness over her eyes, lips. She did what she knew he wanted her to do: she licked her lips, then ran her fingers over her eyes and licked her fingers. She opened her eyes. He was smiling.
"Yes, my dear Gwen, I have looked for an eternity for one as sweet as you."
THREE
It all seemed a dream. As Gwen lay in that big, comfortable bed with her lover fast asleep at her side, she tried to recall what had happened in the shower room. Somehow it was all turned around, twisted in her head, like some kind of insane nightmare. A thousand tiny aches told her that it had been no dream.
She thought about it, tried to reconcile the kinky things she'd done with her upbringing. She couldn't, of course. Young educated ladies from rural Nebraska towns just didn't go down on a Chinese cock like she'd done the day before. Fucked in the ass, sucking on a cock coated with her own shit . . . those things nice young ladies didn't do.
But she had enjoyed it all. Gwen had to admit her pleasure just like she had to admit that the perverse sexual butchery she'd witnessed en route to Hamhung had excited her.
That was another pleasure that nice young ladies didn't allow to happen, not unless they ran right out and consulted the nearest neighborhood shrink. She was troubled by the way the other girls were treated. It was like a dream. Sometimes she thought the others were part of her imagination with their cries of pain and split thighs. Then her tongue hungered for a red-lipped, writhing pussy.
Major Li stirred beside her, turned over to brush his cock against her body. "Did you sleep well, Gwen?" His breath was sweet, like he'd just brushed his teeth.
"Fairly well, Major. And, you?" This dialog was right out of a soap opera but, again, he was leading. Sometimes she even forgot why she called the yellow man 'major.'
"I slept soundly, dreaming of you the whole time."
"I know whose hole you dreamed about, all right." Gwen felt like laughing girlishly at her own jokes.
"T didn't mean to rape you." He glanced away, sheepish. "I do love you, my big, blonde, beautifully built Amazon. With the long golden hair that hangs to your round, solid behind." His hands remained at his sides.
"You did what you thought I'd like. You knew me even better than I knew myself."
"You've never done it before?" Major Li sounded genuinely surprised.
"Couldn't you tell?" Gwen was secretly pleased. She felt compelled to make this strange, quiet man be pleased with her.
"No. And it must have hurt you." Again it sounded like genuine sympathy. Speaking about it made the pain start throbbing again in her buttocks.
"It should've. But didn't. Don't ask me why."
"I know why." Major Li sat up. He was as thoroughly military naked as dressed.
"You do?" It was Gwen's turn to sound genuinely surprised.
"Yes. You wanted me to take you that way. Your need was so strong it overpowered your sense of discomfort."
"I don't know. In any event. . . . " She kicked back the covers. "I'm going to visit the toilet, then I'll clean myself off a little bit, and then I'll be back and we can. . . . "
"Go sightseeing."
"Huh?" Gwen felt a sudden sense of loss. A fire burned in her for the thick, stubby yellow cock in her mouth or cunt or ass.
"Since I'm . . . as you Americans say . . . am out of gas, I might as well take this time to show you around, show you off, while I fill up again."
"Oh?" Gwen leered at the major. "Well, Major, you just stay in bed, maybe doze a few minutes, because when I get back. I'll see what I can do to get your tank filled."
He started to protest, then shrugged and smiled. "It is written the host should always accede to a guest's wishes."
"That's very good house manners." Gwen hurried from the room, breasts, belly and buttocks jiggling.
When she returned, Major Li was right where he'd been, in bed, the silk sheet twisted around his hips, his hairless chest bare, the tiny nipples full, a patina of sweat gathering in the hollow of his sternum. He smiled and stretched a hand.
"Now, just what can you do to make me large enough to satisfy such a bottomless pit as yourself?"
Gwen snuggled against him. He noticed something in her hand. She kept it tightly balled inside her fist and he wasn't able to see what it was. But the major was delighted that she had the will to invent some pleasure for him. The big blonde nurse was truly exceptional material.
"I'll be satisfied, my darling, only when you're satisfied." She kissed the major, holding her fisted arm away from him.
"I am ready." He let her kiss him full on the mouth, the chin.
She chewed his lower lip, tasting the sweetness of his breath: she nibbled at his chin, tasting his sweat. As she worked down his chest, seizing first one nipple and then the other, Gwen's own heat rose deep in her legs. But he remained limp.
She nuzzled his thighs, smelled the stronger aroma of his groin. She also caught the perfume of soap. Had he bathed during the night? She remembered the major offing her a drink of something and, half asleep, she drank. Then she heard the water running in the bathroom, and then she dozed off again.
What a thoughtful man. Bathing in the middle of the night just to be fresh and sweet smelling for his woman. He really was a wonderful man. And, to repay his thoughtfulness, was going to give him everything he wanted. And maybe a few things he didn't expect.
She eased him over on his side, facing the opposite direction. She nibbled his supple butt flesh, and he automatically moved closer.
"Just open a little bit, precious," she cooed.
The major seemed amused. But he moved as she directed.
"This'll be New Year's Eve on Times Square, my precious. Yes it will," she husked. She worked a finger between his cheeks. He tensed. She lightly slapped him. "No, sir," she reprimanded in a light voice. "You relax and let me do this."
"Yes, it has to be like that, doesn't it." Major Li smiled his self-satisfaction. Everything was developing better than he expected.
Then he gurgled as Gwen stuffed a hot. dry wash cloth between his asscheeks.
"Gwen," he chortled as she shoved the rag in past his anal sphincter.
He shivered and a spasm racked his hips. His cock rose. Gwen held the rag in place as she turned him sideways so she could get to his slowly burgeoning cock shaft.
"It likes the hot towel treatment, Major Li." Saliva dripped onto his thigh as she bent, open mouthed, to taste his swollen cock. While she worked the rag in and out of his asshole she tongue-teased the underside of his prick.
His rose with each lick and the steady, gentle pressure of the rag. She licked faster, forced the towel deeper into the Chinese major's rectum until his cock was full length. Then Gwen swung her buttocks around and lowered her mouth onto his shaft, backing toward him as her tongue wrapped itself around his cock-head.
"Take me, dammit," she groaned, seizing his prick head between her teeth. Her hand remained on the rag hem. With her other hand Gwen braced herself on the bed. Her big, ripe cunt lips touched his chin. The major parted them, raising his head toward the puckered labia, touching, finally, the lower slope of Gwen's vagina. Lust oil dripped from her pussy, making her flexed thighs slick. As her thighs trembled, lust juice dripped over the major's chin. He worked Gwen's cunt lips apart, took the clitoris first on his tongue tip, then between his teeth, straining to keep in position so as not to make her lose her grip.
Just as Major Li was about to ejaculate in Gwen's sucking mouth she felt the first bursts of pre-come. She jerked the rag. It snapped free, whipping his prostate. With a bellow, the major flattened against the mattress and exploded. The orgasm was flung down her throat with an overwhelming force that choked off her breath. Gwen kept climaxing though, even though he'd stopped sucking her throbbing clitoris. Just when they both thought he was dry, a new wave of semen exploded in her mouth. When it finally stopped they collapsed, in the sixty-nine position, exhausted, sweating, breathing hard.
"You're really some big shot," Gwen said later, not knowing what he expected her to say but filled with the desire to please him.
"Yes," Major Li said simply. "I am."
They were standing on the edge of the town square. Major Li had taken her from the compound to see Hamhung. Square was exactly what it was. On all four sides were one story shops with steepled roofs and shimmering white tile facades. The center of the small square was a fountain, with a naked stone boy gurgling water out of his mouth and navel. A stone bench surrounded the fountain.
A 'perfect spot for lovers to sit and talk and enjoy the crisp, clear air, Gwen thought. It was right out of a distant movie musical, one of those love-is-everywhere epics she had enjoyed as a girl in her small home town.
"It looks like it was built just for us, Major."
She gripped his arm lightly, rubbing her tits against him as she thought of the cold fountain washing her cunt.
He turned sharply, noted her serene, bright eyed expression.
"Hamhung is a lovers paradise. Shall we?" He took her arm and gestured toward an arch at the end of the square opposite of where they were standing.
They passed through the arch and were confronted by a one story stone building. There were no windows and the door was narrow and made of heavy wood with an iron-ribbed bar across its middle and a heavy iron lock.
"This is where I work-where you and I will spend some time today, where we will get to know each other better." Major Li stood in front of the door as if it were a religious shrine. His face shone with perspiration. Suddenly the spell was broken. He inserted the key. tugged the door open.
The room was windowless. The floor was laced by a drain that girdled all four sides of the building. Along the wall were heavy leather straps fastened to round iron hoops which were drilled into the cement. In the center of the room was a table which stood about three feet off the floor and was made of stone. Leather thongs were fastened to four iron hoops. It all looked terrifying. But a curious lethargy overwhelmed Gwen. Shivers of sexual anticipation started at her pussy lips and flowed up her cunt. She wanted to finger herself, but resisted the temptation.
"This is where you work, Li?" Her voice was an awed caress that invited him to begin with her.
"Some of the time. Work. And pleasure." Spittle formed in the corners of Major Li's mouth. He knew the American nurse felt almost the same about this room as he. His lips were stretched across his capped teeth.
Gwen didn't feel fear, only trust. Li wouldn't hurt her too much. They had things to do together. And she needed pain. She looked forward to it.
"You needn't worry, Gwen. You're so lovely when you smile. I couldn't hurt such a lovely creature too much."
"I know you wouldn't. I trust you, Major." She trembled and wondered how much pain he would give her. Enough, she hoped fervently.
She turned and embraced Major Li and his warmth. His kisses put aside any fear that she might have felt.
"Then we will begin, my darling American nurse?" He began unbuttoning the one piece cotton dress.
"What must I do?"
"Just close your eyes, remain still and let me lead. Like before only this time . . . this time. . . . " Major Li was breathing hard. His powerful body odor cut through the soap and cologne. "This time it will be so much more fun. For you. I will only be an instrument through which you will achieve supreme satisfaction."
"That's what I want." Gwen trembled. Her heart fluttered. Spasms racked her belly, made her light headed.
The dress fell to the floor. Next came the bra. Her massive breasts lolled. As the warm air kissed the nipples they blushed and hardened. Goose bumps dotted the alabaster smoothness. Sweat circled her belly button and as her muscles rippled drops of moisture ran toward her bush. He peeled back her panties and her aroma welled up, as intense as the love sweat, gouting her bush and thighs.
"Nnnn," she whimpered, flinching as Major Li jerked hard, pulling the panty cup free of her labia. The garment came down, making a sucking, gasp-like sound.
Gwen was racked by shivers. If she didn't sit down she would pass out. She reached for his shoulders, to brace herself, but he knocked her hands aside.
"I'm going to fall, Li."
"In a moment, my precious." And there was that cold hard sound again, the sound she didn't like but wasn't afraid of.
He was on his knees, pulling the panties to her ankles. "Now step out of them, Gwen." And after she had done what he ordered, he rose, embracing, massaging first her calves, then her buttocks, then the small of her back and finally her shoulders. By now she was dizzy. Her eyelids were heavy; she was numb and her cunt ached so.
"Will you do exactly as I wish?" he whispered in her ear.
"Yes, Li." She leaned against him for support. His uniform, with all the decorations, cut her breasts. The coarse fabric rubbed her belly. The sensations, and his aromas, and presence, were enough to swell her clit.
"Then do as I say." He held her waist and escorted her to the table.
"Whatever you want. Only, please, do it now."
"On the table."
She let him help her up. The cold cement soothed the heat of her flesh.
"Now you will be kind to my friends. Very kind. Very attentive. Very, very willing."
"Friends? What do they want me to do?"
"Are you afraid?"
"No."
"Are you repelled?"
"Not if you want me to do this."
"What do you feel?"
"Fear."
"Ah."
"Fear that you won't want me when they're finished with me."
"I will want you more than I want you already."
"Even if I smell of their bodies, of their come?"
"Even then."
"Then," she said, trancelike, "I will do for them what I want to do for you."
"And we will make love. Later. And it will be more wonderful than what we've done." Major Li backed toward a wall switch. He pressed the stud and the a moment later two men entered. Through the fog that seemed to overwhelm her, Gwen recognized the two: Captain Wong-short and husky; Corporal Kang--medium height and build. They approached, stepping briskly like soldiers on parade. Kang reached the stone table first. Out of respect for his superior officer he stepped aside, allowing the short Captain Wong to go ahead. Gwen felt the heat rise, overpowering her fear. All she thought about, as she listened to Wong strip and drop his quilted blue uniform on the floor, was Li . . . waiting somewhere in this room . . . waiting and watching and, she hoped, enjoying her performance. She wanted Li to see how well she did so he would want her even more than he did. Through his friends, she would increase his love for her.
The sound of rough fabric and hollow buttons hitting the floor suddenly stopped. Wong was naked. His bare feet slapped on cement. Then she smelled his sweat and foul breath. She felt the fragile brushing against her leg; he was beside her and what she felt were the hairs of his leg.
"Open wider," the Captain ordered. "And open your eyes, American bitch."
She obeyed. This man had to prove something, had to vent his anger. And she would be his rage object. But Gwen knew accepting everything without a whimper would prove her strength, her strange love for the Major.
Wong's rough hands were kneading her inner thigh. He leered when he felt the love oil on her soft, white inner thighs.
"You like? Answer."
"I like, no, love any man my man wants me to love." Gwen's voice was soft, far away.
"And who, white bitch, is your man?" Wong's voice was hard. His hands were at her yellow haired cunt now.
"Major Li."
Wong jabbed a thumb into her vagina. "Is this what Major Li does for you?"
"I . . . " She winced as the thumb touched her clit. "I don't understand."
"Does he touch you like this, before he fucks you, American bitch." Wong's voice was harder, a harsh hiss, like a snake's outcry.
"He loves me in many ways, with many moods."
Wong's thumb was agitating her clitoris. She wondered if he felt her come start. He laughed as she flinched and brought up one leg, tightening his thumb to her clit.
"The bitch loves it any way she can get it."
"And she will get it many different ways today." Kang, like the dutiful, obedient servant, remained beside the stone table, unmoving. hands at his sides, watching.
Somewhere in the shadows of the window-less room, the impassive Major Li watched, too, his hands on a heavy leather thong. As Captain Wong twisted Gwen's clitoris, the major's hand clenched the thong tighter until his knuckles turned red. then white.
Gwen grunted with relief. Captain Wong had fingered her to climax. The squat Chinese withdrew his hand, examined the substance that oozed down his thumb to his palm.
"Here." He leered and shoved the thumb to her mouth.
She relaxed her jaw, let him shove the soiled member between her teeth. "Suck it," he shouted.
She licked his thumb, gasping, making the captain's pussy tasting thumb taste as good as Li's cock. As she suckled, Wong's laugh became more guttural, husky with desire. She didn't have to look down. She knew he was getting hard. She tried to guess where he'd stick it.
At least I only have three possible places. She allowed herself the luxury of the whimsy. She controlled the laugh.
"Here." The captain opened her palm. He placed his pulsating prick in her hand. "I want you to play with this for awhile. But if you make me come I shall be very angry. I shall have to discipline you, then." Captain Wong's voice was husky, as he was himself. But his tone was lyrically Chinese.
Gwen didn't know why, but the threat implied by the crude Chinese peasant sent thrills racing through her body, tingling from her crotch to her tits. Her eyes gleamed and her interest was obvious.
In the rear of the room Major Li chuckled. As if on cue, the captain laughed gutturally. Only Kang remained stoic. His eyes were watching but his mind was elsewhere. Gwen saw him out of the corner of her eye but didn't give him a second thought. She was too distracted to pay attention to anything other than the awesome weight of Captain Wong's cock in her hand, and the threat that rang in her ears.
She bounced the prick, not paying attention to its owner. He was laying still as she pumped his cock shaft. Captain Wong was waiting for the game to end, for her to lose. It was a simple, stupid game but one that Wong had initiated and, therefore, the game had to be played by his rules to its ultimate conclusion.
So be it, Gwen thought, jerking, pumping, squeezing his soft, slippery meat. The shaft was sweat slick. The vein pulsed like a flood-swollen riverbed. Her hand slipped up the yellow shaft to his caman cockhead. She ran a nail over the slit. Wong was gasping.
Not much longer, she figured. Then the game, or at least the first phase of it, would be over. And what then? Gwen imagined what would happen next. The room told her what she could expect and she welcomed it, was ready to embrace it like a long separated lover. She imagined the ecstasy of the yellow captain doing brutal things to her body and her cunt and her tits.
She turned sideways to face the husky captor. His slant eyes were shut and his usually passive face was twisted. She could see his heart slamming against his pale, meaty chest. She twisted and turned his cock shaft while she stroked the cockhead. All she got was more pre-come.
Ignoring the throbbing in her loins, Gwen scooted down, the cement scratching her sides, sending a jarring sensation through her vagina. A sensation that almost set off her orgasm.
"This is what you need," she rasped. "This is what I want to do to you, to show you how I really feel about you." Her spit sprayed his lower belly and curled hair. He whimpered and kicked once, nearly knocking her away. "Yes, you want me to take you. But you don't want a kiss, do you? No. Don't answer. I already know what you want, how you must have it. How you will have it."
She clasped his cockhead between her teeth and while her tongue battered that sensitive, spongy dome her teeth lightly chewed the shaft.
Wong was silent, but he clutched her hair, held her face to his cock. From a distance came the jagged laughter of the Major. A laugh of triumph, of finishing the ultimate creation. That phrase stuck in Gwen's mind. She didn't know why. Then Wong's yelp, and frantic motions disturbed the reverie. Plenty of time to think later, lots of time to relish the moment.
She suckled faster, drenching his prick with spit. As she laved his cock with her tongue. Gwen steadily increased the pressure, moving her jaws side to side, brushing her teeth back and forth along his swollen pecker.
He shouted, tensed, climaxed. As the Chinese captain's come spurted she drank it down, savoring the bitter taste, becoming drunk on the nectar. But not so drunk that she couldn't remember that little variation she had planned for Captain Wong. As he crested, and slowly became empty she snapped her jaws together. He screamed. The sound of ecstasy became one of pain.
"Bitch, American bitch," he wailed, pounding her head, shoulders, jerking her head back by the hair.
She locked her jaws, took the blows without lightening the pressure. She bore down, giving him what she knew he wanted, making his revenge more sweet. The more intense his revenge, the more her pleasure would be. And she realized that as though she had been programmed to think that way.
"Let him go," Kang said. The stoic corporal was pulling her back by the shoulder. He will kill you!"
Gwen thought she detected concern in the Chinese soldier's voice.
He wants a piece, too, before they finish with me, and sent me down the same road Vicki went down. Somehow, even that didn't seem so bad to Gwen.
Kang freed his officer. Holding Gwen down by the shoulders he shoved her hands into the looped thongs on the stone table. "This is how it must be done now," he whispered in her ear as he spread her naked body on the cold stone.
"I want it this way." Her words descended from some distant dream cloud.
"No, Kang, not on her back. On her face."
Captain Wong was off the table. His cock showed teeth marks but the skin wasn't broken. "Tie her tight, Kang. I don't want her getting free."
Kang undid the loops, turned her over. Gwen relaxed and let him guide her onto her belly. The loops were retied. Then her legs were spread and her feet tied.
Now comes the discipline, she thought, and hoped. Her skin prickled for the sensuous pain to start burning its way into her body.
Captain Wong was cursing now. The words spilled out. She heard the crack of leather and looked toward the sound. The husky officer stood at the foot of the altar. She could see only the top of his head and his eyes. They glowed like rat's eyes. He raised a hand and Gwen saw a thin, long, black leather whip. The base of the weapon was tied with hardened hemp, and knotted to make holding the weapon easier. The tip was knotted also and the lash smelled exotic, not sweet, not bitter. More like an expensive liqueur. Different but desirable.
He approached. "You see?" The Chinese officer held the whip under Gwen's nose. "See it? Smell it?"
"Yes." Her voice was strongly defiant.
"She has spirit," Major Li said in the background as if she weren't there.
"It will be broken!" Captain Wong also seemed to pay no attention to her existence when he wasn't looking at her.
The Captain found a sliver of cement on the table rim. He chipped the sliver free and scratched her bicep. Gwen blinked. It was like the scratch happened to someone else. A drop of blood came to the surface. The captain rubbed a segment of the whip against the cut.
Gwen felt nothing at first. A few seconds later a deep burning spread through her bicep. That burning matched what she was feeling in her crotch. She wasn't afraid of it, only of showing her anticipation. She scowled and the captain was fooled.
"You feel that, American bitch ? That is only a scratch. Imagine the whip biting your back, your ass and that grease penetrating the wounds, burning all the way down to your soul, if. indeed, you whites have souls." He stepped back to savor her reaction.
She didn't disappoint him.
Shaking, whimpering, twisting, crying, begging. Gwen tugged at her bonds. Her plump buttocks flexed and quivered and she arched her back in a vain effort to free herself. Captain Wong smiled. His cock lifted. He spread his legs for balance. He moved his arm back and forward, uncoiling the fifteen foot whip. It snapped and hissed in the air. and crackled when the tip struck the stone wall behind him. He played with the leather, his eyes never leaving Gwen's voluptuous golden form which lay prostrate before him. He let the whip snap the back wall, then curled it so it threw shadowy curlicues across Gwen's back. She was crying real tears that dampened the cement table, turning the white stone beneath her face into smudged, spotted gray. He swung the whip over his head so it arced across the width of the table. He lowered his hand. The whip came closer to her writhing form. Closer and still closer as he steadily lowered his arm an inch at a time.
She heard the weapon's descent, measured it's closeness. She bit her lip. suddenly afraid, suddenly not sure.
"You white bitch," Wong bellowed. "This is for what you and your people are doing to my people." The whip bit deep into the small of Gwen's back, making an obscene slapping sound, like dead fish being slammed into a wet brick wall. The force slammed her shoulders and hips against the stone, raising bruises. But she didn't cry out; she bit her lip. The blood came, thick, oily and sour on her tongue. The whip snapped back again, and she recoiled. Flames spread through the raw wound, like pouring raw alcohol on raw flesh. There was pain-but the pain was a kind of pleasure and as the flame spread through her body, a kind of ecstasy quickly followed. The only immediate discomfort was in Gwen's cunt. Already the lust oil bubbled and her clitoris swelled and her thighs tightened. Her nipples, crushed beneath the weight of her shoulders and ripe tits, were hard and the ache of the stiff tips in contact with the cement was, in itself, a sensation that heightened the already delirious feeling spreading through her being.
"And, this, you white slut, is for what you did to me." Wong stepped back. His chest and arm muscles glistened. His face was set in an iron mask. He swung the whip and brought it down on her buttocks. "Agh," she screamed.
Her buttocks tightened, quivered, loose-flesh surrounded the gash on the left cheek. Blood oozed. Fire erupted, igniting her cunt.
The lash came down again, snapping as it cut the air, smacking wetly as it gouged another jagged wound in her supple hind end.
"Aaaagggg," Gwen wailed as the whip cut a third wound, right to left in an ugly, narrow line. She raised her head, mouth wide, eyes squinted, face blood red. Her hair tossed from side to side as her head shuddered. Her neck was taut and her shoulders throbbed. "Bitch," Wong's voice was louder. It came down off the walls in an avalanche of hate.
He raised the whip again and the snake chewed another gash down her high ass cheek. Then, while pain spasms still racked her back, and the sobs issued wetly from Gwen's mouth. Wong dropped the lash, undid the thongs at Gwen's feet and motioned for Kang.
"Hold her open, Kang."
Kang grabbed her ankle and raised her leg splitting her crotch.
"You chewed on me, white bitch," Captain Wong snarled. "Now I chew on you." He gestured at Kang with the coiled whip.
Kang gripped Gwen's legs, holding the one leg as high as he could.
All Gwen was sure of was that during the beating, each time the whip cut her, she had climaxed. The orgasms left her weak, ready to faint. What was coming could kill her and knowing that she still wasn't afraid.
Wong aimed the tip of the lash. He coiled it back, toward his waist, then snapped it open. The knotted tip struck her pudenda. She cried out, felt warmth and wetness between her legs, oozing into her vagina. The whip was coiled, aimed again, unleased again and this time that knotted end snapped between her labia. Her cunt throbbed as it never had before. She was oozing a river of cunt juice, begging for the caress of the leather.
"Love me," Gwen begged, tossing her head back, eyes glazed and staring at the ceiling, at the evenly spaced cement blocks, at the tiny pockets of peeled plaster that held the blocks together.
"Yes, I'll love you," Captain Wong snarled. The whip kissed her pussy again. "Wider, Kang. Open her cunt wider."
Her clit was exposed now. Vibrating, waiting for the kiss of the whip. Waiting for the masterful, brute force that no man could ever give a woman.
"Fucking slut!" Wong's voice echoed and reechoed across the room, filling every corner showering down on her, surging against her ears, penetrating her brain and reverberating against her skull. Gwen tensed, her wild eyes focusing on that nub of strength so small, smaller than the smallest cock, yet possessed of more strength than the strongest of men. The lash tip whirled toward her waiting, anxious clitoris. She made her pelvis relax, as the burning whip tore her labia like barbed wire. And she wan helpless, unable to stand the overwhelming passion that rent her flesh. Deeper now. past her labia to the bloated, pulsating clit. The nub slapped the clit.
"Yaaaaahhhhh," she howled, kicking free of Corporal Kang's grasp.
Gwen whipped her hips, thrusting her belly in and out to capture the whip end between her flailing thighs. Captain Wong saw this and rushed to her. Brandishing the lash's grip, he threw his hand forward.
"You want the cock, here it is . . . the whip's cock." Slant eyes livid, the Chinese officer jammed the polished grip into her snatch, corkscrewing the sweat-drenched dildo up her convulsing cunt.
She went numb, feeling only the turning pressure in her pussy and the sting in her clitoris and the soothing fires across her buttocks. Gwen puckered her lips. Her face became peaceful and her eyes shut. Wong noted the American nurse's reaction and that heightened his anger. Still grinding the whip handle into her vagina, Wong turned Gwen on her side, climbed over so he faced her backside. The whip stuck obscenely from her crotch, her cunt lips sucking it. The deep welts, the reddish-purple smears, the odor of her orgasm stiffened the Captain's prick. With his free hand he spread her wide, smeared blood in her ass to grease the snug inner muscles.
His fingers were rough. Gwen wanted to kick him away, but her legs wouldn't move.
She tried once and couldn't do it and quickly lost interest. Wong had already given her pleasure. Now it was his turn. Let him do whatever he wanted. Whatever it was it couldn't match what she'd just experienced. Nothing could be that wonderful.
He crowded close to her butt, directing his cockhead through the narrow crease. He crushed his hips against those supple cheeks and forced his cock through her clenched ass muscles, drilling into her rectum.
That again, she thought. That wonderful ending in the end. She moved her ass down to meet the upward thrust of Captain Wong's thick cock. As he quickened the pace, Gwen matched the up and down pistonings of his cock with her pneumatic ass.
"She loves it," Wong shouted gleefully to the impassive Corporal Kang and Major Li. almost invisible in the shadows.
"Yes . . . yes . . . YES. . . . "
The sting of his climax shot through Gwen's loins, triggering another orgasm in her butt. She kept shoving against Captain Wong even after he went soft and tried to withdraw. She kept her ass muscles tight, trying to hold him until he got hard again. But he pushed her away and climbed off the table. He stepped in front of her, his feet slapping hollowly on the cement blocks. When he reached her shoulders he pulled Gwen to the edge of the table. Her tits sagged on the damp stone. The tips were hard, blushing.
"You greased me with your foul dung, bitch. You will clean me off."
She opened her mouth to welcome that broad, heavy, flaccid, coated thing.
"No," he said, pulling away. "I've already felt your teeth." He motioned for Kang. The faithful flunkie appeared. "Hold her shoulders down." Her legs twisted under her. she prepared herself for what was to come.
Wong climbed on the table and settled himself on her belly. Scooting forward, he positioned his cock in her cleavage and folded her twin tits against his prick. He rubbed until the cleavage and sides of the two muscles were smeared with brownness of her asshole. He kept rubbing, reaching a semi-erection in her cleavage. He got off.
"Now, Kang, she is yours." Captain Wong smiled. His cum had splattered hotly against Gwen's face. He was entranced by the hot. white liquid on her cheeks.
She watched her attacker retreat. Where is Li? Why isn't he taking me as he'd promised? How much longer must I have to wait for him ?
All she had. as a substitute, was Corporal Kang . . . a man of thin bones, sagging flesh . . . a scrawny, weary man . . . with a cock to match. So small, not big enough to do any damage or any good to Gwen's way of thinking. As he ambled from the shadows, where his uniform was folded, his little prick bobbed. It moved slightly, like a sleeping snake reacting to a mild wind. He climbed onto the cement table. The organ's head touched the damp stone and began swelling. It was still semi-erect but. as Corporal Kang stretched beside her. the heat of her flesh charged the limp muscle.
Wong and Li, observing the slowness of his erection, laughed, hooted, jeered. Kang remained stoic, a small smile on his face. Something in his expression . . . the forlornness that she hadn't noticed before, or the little boy lost pose . . . made her feel pity. Kang saw the emotion, and smiled.
"Honey," she whispered, as he rolled one massive tit, "stick it between my tits. The heat'll get it up."
"I'm not worried about making a show for them." He continued kneading the hefty globe. "T don't want to add to your hurt."
That surprised her.
"The hurt was . . . is fun, kicks. More than I've ever had before."
"That isn't you, talking." Corporal Kang spread her breasts, mounted her, dropping his penis between those alabaster peaks. The aureoles became cherry-black; the nipples became erect thumbs.
"It isn't Tinkerbell and the Christmas Fairly." She laughed. Her diaphragm kicked. Her tits slapped together. His cock felt snug in that humid flesh fist.
"I won't hurt you," he breathed, moving back and forth.
"Not the way you're doing it, chum." Another laugh.
Captain Wong strode to the table. "I want tears, not laughter, Kang. If you can't inflict what we want with that tiny cock, use this." He shoved a heavy knife at Kang. "I won't need that."
"t think you will, Corporal." He dug fingers into Kang's arm. "I think you will use it. Right now, Kang."
Kang stopped moving. Gwen lay still, waiting, expectant.
"Use it, Kang," Major Li ordered, from the shadows.
Kang grasped the knife, holding it poised over her chin. "I'm sorry," he whispered when Wong was out of earshot.
"Oh . . . oh . . . " She was quivering again. Every nerve was alive, waiting. Her snatch exuded the musky aroma of pre-orgasm. The oil surged, turning her silky white thighs a pale, shimmering sun, seen through a misted cloud.
He played the knife along her jaw, not cutting the skin. Then down her throat, over the jugular. She whimpered, shuddered and he ordered her to stay still.
Down the knife came, past her Adam's apple, to the hollow of her throat directly below the Adam's apple. She swallowed. The Adam's apple bobbed.
"Hold still," he hissed.
The knife moved lower, touching her cleavage. He flattened one nipple with the side of the knife. The nipple sprang up as the blade moved to her other breast. He circled the aureole, cutting a tiny gold hair. He stopped, the blade poised at the aureole's edge. He decided what to do next. He cut a thin line from the aureole to the nipples.
She gasped, grunted harshly. Pain flashed through her body. She didn't want him to cut her tip off. Her head tilted back. Her eyes were closed. The veins stood out on her neck and temples. Her legs tensed and her belly muscles flexed. The wounded nipple ring was scarlet. The nipple stood up. hungry for the sharp touch. Kang lightly scratched from the aureole, to the nipple. Reaching the stiff tip he paused. She cried out, begged him to do it. He hesitated, then made a surgeon's incision in the nipple.
"Again!" Gwen bellowed, whipping her pelvis in frantic circles. It was almost as good as having the knife in her cunt.
Blood spurted across those heavy, solid breasts and formed a river in her cleavage, and drained down to her belly, filling the navel and turning the thick pubic patch from a golden paleness to a muddy brownish clump that slickened the hair to her labia.
Kang bent his head and tasted the salty syrup. The Chinese soldier suckled ravenously, to Gwen's delight. She wanted to throw her arms around him. hold him close, let him suck the very blood out of her burning tit.
"Enough." It was Li. naked to the waist. His legs were sheathed in a tight, highly polished leather girdle. Dangling from the girdle were knives of various lengths and shapes, and a ten inch narrow pole with a wood hand grip on the end. On the other end was a half dollar sized solid piece of iron. He wore leather boots. also polished, and leather gloves. "Get off her, Kang."
Kang climbed off Gwen. His face was impassive as he became again the perfect Chinese soldier, ready to obey any order without question, commit any act.
When she heard Major Li's voice, Gwen's eyes opened. She didn't speak right away. As her eyes grew accustomed to the shadowy interior, she saw him and recognized the significance of the brief uniform. Her eyes widened and the pulse pounded in her heart, and cunt. Her skin glowed. The fire in her twat telegraphed to her eyes, contorting her face into an evil, passion's mask.
He smiled and the grin was as frightening: as hers. "You are impressed with this." Hp gestured at the girdle and boots.
"With you."
"The attire doesn't excite you."
"It does. Very much."
"What has already happened to you doesn't bother you."
"It satisfies me but makes me want more. Almost at the same time I come I have a hunger to come again, and all T need is a little . . . prodding."
He hefted the pole. As it moved, it brushed the knives, making them touch with a tinkling far off temple-bell sound. "This will prod you."
"Prod me into what, beside another orgasm?"
"Into obeying me. doing what I want."
"I've given in to Captain Wong, and Corporal Kang. Who else."
"You'll see."
"When?"
"We shall discuss that later."
"I want to know, Major Li. How many more poor substitutes must I spread for before I get the real thing . . . you."
"You have me. Now."
"I see you standing there, inches from me. I feel your breath. I smell your odor and that drives me wild. I smell what your sweat is doing to the leather and I can almost see your huge cock straining against your leg. I see, I smell. But I don't touch. When am I going to touch you?"
"But you're tired now. . . . "
"I'm not."
"You're tired, and torn. You must rest, repair your injuries and when you're healed, I'll take you."
"I'm healed now. If I wasn't I wouldn't be able to talk to you. I'd be too busy licking my wounds."
"It didn't hurt when they were inflicted."
"I only felt pleasure."
Major Li nodded, apparently satisfied. That is good. Very good."
"Good enough to untie me so I can embrace you?"
"No, not that good. Not yet. But soon." He snapped his fingers. From an inside pocket of his uniform Captain Wong produced a small flask. He brought it to the table. Li uncapped the flask and held it to her lips. "Here. Drink," he coaxed.
The aroma enticed her. She found herself suddenly very thirsty. She drained the flask in a half dozen deep draughts. She lay back, gasping for breath as the tasteless liquid spread along her veins, warming every fiber.
"What was that?"
"Water. With a tiny bit of Saki." He undid the thongs that held her feet. "You've also earned a nice long rest. In comfort." He unfastened the thongs by her head.
As the last thong was undone, one hand eased her to a sitting position. Gwen slid off the table on her knees. He caught her before she pitched backward, striking the stone edge. Just like she wanted. As Major Li embraced her under the arms, his hands slid on her sweaty body. With surprising strength Gwen shoved one leg between his spread legs, locking an ankle around one of his legs. She lunged toward the major nearly knocking him off balance.
Gwen wanted to knock Major Li over, to mount him before she fell asleep, for she was drowsy all of a sudden. But the way she was positioned was a good alternative. Her cunt was open, and pressed against his booted leg; her clit was against the boot top. He tried to disengage her but she held on with a drowning person's desperation. As the sweet-smelling hard leather made contact with her drenched vagina and stiff clitoris, the masculine roughness acted on her female softness. The feel and the way she was being dominated by the hard, intractable Li heightened her desire, if that was possible. She pressed against him. He first pulled back, then stopped and remained still as she slowly lifted and lowered her cunt on that hard leather surface. As she lowered herself, her plump buttocks touched the floor, cold now as the temperature dropped. Her ripe butt flesh made soft, slapping, kissing sounds as floor and buttocks collided.
"Uh . . . uh . . . Li . . . Li . . . fuck me . . . fuck me now."
But he remained impassive, impervious to her pleading.
Fists lodged against his hips, he stared down at her, no expression marring his handsome face. His legs remained spread and his muscles were knotted. His thoughts were concentrated on her reaction, her behavior through this entire episode. He had found, and awakened the perfect subject. What had at first been just a toy for his bedroom, a vessel to hold his jizz was now the perfect instrument, and through his careful coaching she would be perfect. In every way.
She was working harder and faster now, slicking his boot leather with her pussy juice. Her voice was high, pitched, strained. The cold leather stoked the fire in her sweaty cunt. She rubbed her clit on the hard edge.
"Oh, please, my darling Li, fuck me, please, ah, ah, please, let me feel your cock in my cunt, let me taste your come in my mouth, feel your stiff prick up my ass, oh, oh, please, please
. . . " Gwen whimpered as she rubbed her clit raw, leaving smeared tracks from boot top to ankle curve. Her spine ached from the cramped position, her loins throbbed from the exertion and her tail bone and buttocks were raw from the cold, jagged pieces of chipped cement. But the frustration hurt worse than the physical abuse. The physical strain she could stand, and welcomed. It was the frustration of not having him . . . of having his two underlings and not having him as he had promised that hurt deep. Why didn't he take her? What was he waiting for? If it had to do with the leather outfit, if somehow his passion was increased by taking her in that get-up, then why was he hesitating? Was it because his desire was even greater by making her frustrated . . . suffer?
He wasn't able to physically hurt her, Gwen decided. She loved this whole beautiful approach. The only way he could inflict pain was to keep away from her.
She let herself sag to the floor. On her back, one heel locked behind his leg, she stared up at him. Her pussy gaped open, itch from loving the leather of his polished boot.
"Is that it, Li?"
He was still looking down. "Is what it, my precious?" His eyes and face were without expression.
"The reason you're not touching me. You want to make me suffer."
"Does my absence make you suffer?" he asked in a soft, still voice.
"You know it does." Gwen's lower lip trembled. She fought back the tears. One eyelid quivered. She didn't understand herself. She wanted some of him stabbed in her hot, sweaty body holes.
"I'm flattered."
"And glad?"
"To make you suffer?"
"Aren't you?" The tears fought hard for escape. Gwen trembled. She wanted him to fuck her in whatever brutal way he wanted.
"I'm a brute. Up to a point." Major Li smiled at her. He was so cool compared to the sweaty hotness that engulfed Gwen.
"Has that point been reached?"
"Has yours?" He grinned. His teeth shone like elephant's tusks.
"My passion is yours. I'm only as passionate as you make me, want me to be. So far I've been passionate because that is your wish . . . "
"What we've done today was see what makes you passionate. Now we know. Tomorrow, perhaps, if you're up to it, we can all become . . . is "closer" a good word? Yes, closer, and I promise you then that we will be a party of two."
"You promised that party for today." Gwen yawned. She felt weak, like a baby. "You're tired."
"I'd like to shower you with it."
"While you were being . . . loved, I found myself touching myself. I'm drained, my lovely abyss. Drained for awhile, at least." Major Li fingered the long pole that dangled from his belt. The iron disc was a blind eye, Gwen thought, an eye that sees what normal eyes can never see . . . an eye that sees beyond the normal dimensions of space and time . . . past the normal emotions of male-female love . . . to a greater dimension, a more powerful love. That disc was a means to a passion far greater than the desire she had experienced. "But. tomorrow, my sweet . . . tomorrow we will see about having that party. We will be fresher then and we will have the entire night to dream of tomorrow. Doesn't that sound more appealing?"
"Will you . . . " Her eyes fixed on the disc, then dropped to his leg; she was sheepish, suddenly shy and embarrassed. For no good reason.
"Will I . . . " He let the question trail off. "Use that pole?"
"The one beside this lovely scimitar."
"That's the one."
"I might."
"You're playing with me again," Gwen said, disgusted.
"Do you know what this item is."
"Will you tell me, at least."
"I will show you."
"Oh, when?"
He threw his head back, and laughed. "My. how you sound like a child at her birthday."
"Will you show me?"
"I certainly will. Tomorrow. Wong." A finger-snap brought the Captain, and Corporal.
"Help her on with her clothes. Then, after you've bathed her and tucked her in, report to my office."
FOUR
Both men were attentive. They helped her undress and then drew a bath in the bathroom that adjoined Li's shower room. Bath salts were added to the steaming water and she was lowered into the soothing depths.
"Scrub my back?" Gwen laughed softly, so relaxed that she felt like a girl again . . . a teenage girl in love for the first time. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was losing contact with reality. There were those flashes of memory that came too-of the other nurses. But they seemed so distant.
How could something so overwhelming have gone undiscovered for so long? All those boys, all those men. They had made her come and yet. even though she had achieved orgasm, Gwen still left those couplings unsatisfied. And she had never even suspected what it was that was missing.
It took a terrible war on a cold, cheerless continent half a world away from the secure, warm world of the Midwest, to show her what she had to know to complete that one area of her psyche that had been so incomplete . . . so inadequate. Now that she knew this about herself her life would be fuller, richer. With Major Li.
Just thinking about him tightened Gwen's clitoris, made her inner muscles throb pleasurably. After all she'd been through she could still think about him and become excited. Christ, he was right: she was an abyss, a snug, bottomless pit that needed him to fill her up, satisfy her. Until next time. And all the time was the next time. She never got enough of Major Li's fucking, his hot cock driving up her hole while he did other things to her. And Gwen didn't know why. She didn't question that, nor the fact that her passion for Major Li went beyond normal bounds.
She didn't consider what she had become . . . a traitor to her country and, in the eyes of her straight-laced family and friends, someone less than human. She didn't consider what life would be like for her next year, ten years from now. She didn't dwell on the fact that the allies might win the Korean war . . . a conflict that had been triggered by the male ego, the rapacious beast that was as much a part of the male politico, the big shot Washington wheeler-dealer as her own driven hungers were a part of her. For Gwen there was but one world, this small village, people by Li and, to a lesser degree, Wong and Kang.
Wong she understood. He liked to give pain as much as Gwen liked to take it. Corporal Kang was different, though. She couldn't figure him out. On the road he took her as masterfully as Wong, and Li, of course. Then, for an unexplained reason, he turned . . . what was the word . . . Understanding? No, if he understood her he would've jumped her, Wong fashion. If he had any style he might've even given her some of the cunt-shaking kicks that Li provided.
But he was sympathetic in a straight kind of way. It was touching, in a way. And the way he looked and behaved, so little kid-ish, was touching, too.
If she ever got him alone, Gwen would have to ask. But, for now, all she wanted to do was take a bath. And, maybe if she was lucky, Major Li would have a change of mind and crawl in beside her. That would be a fitting conclusion to an unusual, deeply satisfying day, Gwen thought.
She stretched out, knees pointed toward the ceiling and opened up, letting the warm, perfumed water flow into her softly pulsating cunt.
It felt nice . . . the hot water lapping at her puckered labia, relaxing the strained clitoris. She used the flat of her hand to splash water into her vagina. As the warmth washed through her sex zone, she thought of Major Li. The image of him, sleek, sweating and muscular, got her pussy juices flowing. As the love-sweat gushed, Gwen's clit swelled and her thighs tightened. Instinctively her legs spread wider and she used the coarse-fibered washrag on her outer lips. The rougliness felt nice, like muted needles stroking, stroking. She worked the rough rag higher, avoiding her bloated clitoris. If she was going to masturbate herself she wanted the prelims to last. No sense pulling the plug right away.
She circled her muscles and as she did she felt blood surging through her breasts and her nipples thickening. Her tits were passion-heavy, aching for a soft mouth . . . sharp teeth . . . rough hands . . . spikes. Yes, spikes . . . to rend her tits, scar her belly, tear at her cunt.
"Ooooooooohhhhh."
The sound was alien, a banshee's distant wail on a terror-ridden night.
What put that idea there? Gwen wondered briefly. But, as her clitoris tingled all thoughts were submerged, drowned by the torrent of lust that surged through her belly, and along her nerves, making her body alive, hot.
Gwen dragged the rag over her clitoris, bearing down as she rubbed harder and faster. The rag was too soft to give her the kind of sensations she needed. The rag made a plopping sound as it fell from her hand and floated blissfully away from her trembling legs. She needed something rough and hard jamming up her holes until she was aching with it.
Her index finger and thumb seized her clitoris. Pinching and jerking it, Gwen assaulted her throbbing sex organ over and over. Her fuck flesh was too slippery now to hold onto. Yet the agony of desire continued to rage. Gwen dragged herself out of the tub, sending waves across the rim. Maintaining her balance on the slippery floor she glanced around, searching for something to torment her cunt, to satisfy her need.
The medicine chest was on her left. She flung the accordion-styled bamboo doors wide; the leaves rattled against the wall.
Not much of anything there. But a razor. A turn of the century straight edge with a long narrow blade and light weight cocoa-colored bamboo handle.
My Christ, what I couldn't do with that.
Gwen's first impulse was to shave her flesh, tearing at the itch that consumed every nerve ending. But that wasn't an idea worth thinking twice about. If she mutilated herself, Major Li wouldn't want her. She'd seen too many cases where husbands had deserted their wives after hysterectomies.
What could she do with that silvery thing?
She had to do something before the pain in her cunt made her pass out. Her whole body was one burning ache of desire for rough sex.
She hefted the razor, snapped the blade open and watched the polished silver reflect the light from above, across the mirror. A long column of white came back at her from the mirror and dappled her slightly protruding belly.
As she moved her arm, the column moved lower, across her thick pubis. The light seemed to be lost finally in all that golden-brown hair of her pussy. Too much golden-brown hair, she thought.
Spreading her thighs wide, Gwen opened her pussy lips and brought the razor down. It tickled at first. As she bore down the tickle became a tugging kind of sweet agony. She worked the sharp-edged steel across her outer labia, concentrating on stripping the hair nearest her clitoris.
She was doing fine. Just enough pressure from her suddenly weary hand to slit the hairs at their base without doing much damage to her pussy lips. She'd have her thrill without marring the beauty of her lush, dewy depths.
Gwen's breath was coming faster now. She felt an outcry, building. Her titties swung as she stooped over, to better see what she was doing. Her pony tail had come loose and the hairs lay over her shoulders and spilled across her forehead. She had trouble seeing. She parted the hair and that helped. Her hand remained steady. A pyramid of darkish gold shavings gathered between her legs. As the tub water sloshed on the tile some of the hair separated and drifted toward the door. Along with the hair, threads of coppery-scarlet blood mingled with the soap bath water on its journey. Most of the blood and hair and water was diverted to the spaces between the tiled squares. But some of the mixture reached the door, and seeped beneath the door. As she feverishly masturbated her clitoris, she sliced at her cunt hair with the razor. She had a strange feeling that she was being watched. Then a sound, like a doorknob turning, cut through her lust fever.
Nothing was going to distract Gwen. If she had an audience, so what the hell? Let him, or them, come on in and join the party. Sex was never meant to be an isolated experience.
She dropped the razor. Time to take it with both hands.
Plucking her clitoris, she bent over. Her hair flew across her forehead. Her tits dangled and slapped together. Reaching between her legs, around her pistoning hand on her vagina, she shoved her index finger into her anus. She tried to ride the finger, without much luck.
Still stroking her cunt, Gwen reached into the medicine chest. The toothbrush end fitted nicely into her curled ass hole. She stroked, back and front. As she began to blow off she jerked the toothbrush handle out of her ass, giving herself the same anal kick that the hot washrag had given Major Li.
Her come literally flowed down her trembling, golden leg, splashing onto the drenched tiles, forming pods of jelly, riding the moving water currents to the door.
She tightened her legs, twisting first one way then the other. The orgasms followed with staccato rapidity. One last kick, she decided. She reversed the toothbrush, forcing the bristled end into her ass. As she rammed the makeshift dildo back and forth she trembled from the constant burst of perverse thrills that shot through her ass and cunt and body.
Whipping the brush out of her soft bowels, Gwen brushed the hot, muddy bristles over her clitoris. It ached so . . . felt so good. Each time, each different way was utter ecstasy. She couldn't believe a small town, Midwest dunce could find so many different and wonderful ways to get such wonderful thrills lancing through her quivering body.
Hell, no. It was a career. A career inspired by that sweet Major Li.
She kept brushing her twat, delighting in the stiff scratch of bristles against her itch cunt. How many minutes passed she didn't know. Eventually she was aware of a cool breeze from somewhere, raising goose flesh, making her shiver. The bristles felt now, too soft to do much good.
She threw the brush in the toilet and flushed it down. Squatting over the seat she douched with soapy fingers, rinsed and dried.
The bedroom was warm and there was a soft comforting cozy light burning on the nightstand. Also on hand was the decanter of brandy and a single glass. That meant, of course, that the major wouldn't be coming to bed; he'd be doing his imbibing at his desk. It never occurred to Gwen that he might have another woman stashed somewhere.
So, anyway, if she drank enough, she'd be able to sleep. If she didn't drink she'd never sleep; his face and body would keep her awake, keep her greedy hands on her Major Li-starved hot box. If she didn't sleep it would show tomorrow. And she wanted to look good for him.
She slipped into a filmy, pale pink negligee and once under the covers she filled the glass. The first couple of sips went down easy. The too-sweet taste didn't bother her. Gwen was acquiring a taste for the brandy, like she was acquiring a taste for the more original, painful ways of making love. She was becoming a very cultured lady.
She entertained a fantasy of her and Major Li, returning to her tiny Nebraska town, and her family welcoming them, being veddy veddy impressed with Major Li. All her old friends would be there, being veddy veddy impressed. And envious of her catch. And after thoroughly impressing the town she would bring him to Omaha where she'd gone to school and worked before joining up. And she and Major Li would capture that oversized cow town, too.
Wouldn't those hotshot medicos be overwhelmed by Li? And the nurses, the horse-faced biddies she'd worked under, the teeny-bopper know it alls just out of nursing school.
They'd all be suitably impressed and show her the respect that they'd been too tired, too self impressed, too jaded to show her when they all worked together. A real hassle.
That was one of the reasons she'd joined up . . . to get away from the hospital rat race and get herself a large slice of authority.
And what did she have now?
She was still being dominated, manipulated. And she was loving every wonderful second of it.
Gwen dewelled on the fantasy, slowly sipping the brandy. As sweet numbness took over, the fantasy faded. That's all it was, she knew. A simple fantasy, a childish "I'll show you" kind of pipe dream.
She'd never go back. She couldn't now, not after abandoning her co-workers and her country. Not that she had to worry about being denounced. Even if the allies poured into Ham-hung right now they'd be hard put to prove complicity. Suspect, maybe. Prove, no.
No the proof was in her head. She realized that she would do anything Major Li asked of her. She had already. Fortunately she was responding to these kinky kinds of loving. Even if she didn't dig it, she would still submit. For him. Because he liked it, wanted her to.
"Oh, Li . . . Li . . . Li . . . " she sighed, yawned, and belched brandy.
Enough of that for tonight. Any more and she'd wake up stoned, or at the very least, red-eyed and hung over.
She put the bottle back on the nightstand and turned off the light. She fell right to sleep.
FIVE
There was a sound in the darkness near the bed. Not naked feet. More like slippers hissing stealthily on the thick carpet.
The smell was familiar to Gwen. The husky, pungent odor of a sweating man. She stared at the shadows in the room. "Li?" She whispered, then a hand dropped over her mouth and nose. The hand was firm, calloused. She choked against the palm. The fingers released her nose.
"No sound, no yelling." The voice was familiar. "Do not yell." The tone warned Gwen that if she cried out she would be hurt. She wasn't too tired to respond to the promise of more ecstasy.
"I . . . want . . . it . . . you," she mumbled through brandy-numbed lips.
"Yes, I'll take you. Then we will talk."
Naked warmth pressed against her back. Skilled hands lifted her nightie: the filmy material tickled her shoulders. Gwen wanted to giggle though she was too tired to bother. All she wanted was a quickie, then back to sleep. Maybe she was still asleep and this was some kind of dream.
That hard, hot cock parting her buttocks was real . . . real hard . . . real skilled as it slid up her shit-chute, touching, lodging in the hole. There, it stopped, as though its owner had heard something. Gwen listened, heard nothing, enjoying his cock spreading her asshole open with painful warmth that flowed into her pussy.
"Get the hell in gear, man," she husked, her throat sleep-clogged and sore from too much brandy.
"I don't want to hurt."
"Hurt? Oh, shit."
She knew her caller now. Mister no-hurt. Kang. The man who somehow had lost his grunt-glands since that snowy day on the road. He must be interested, though. He was certainly hard enough. And, moving slowly, was awakening her cunt without disturbing her bowels. She would hate to shit all over him, and all over the bed. Li wouldn't be too impressed with her if she did that. He'd probably accuse her of turning senile on him.
One thing about Corporal Kang, he had guts coming into Major Li's bedroom, violating the sanctity of his bed, violating the body of his mistress. Surely there must be other women, safer women.
He had his chance earlier, with Major Li's approval. Gwen wondered dreamily about him. She was so tired. She knew she wasn't thinking clearly.
Little boy lost was probably bashful, not able to perform before an audience. He still wanted his share and decided to take it while the master was off somewhere running things. That explanation satisfied Gwen. She wanted to satisfy herself.
Little boy was no little boy in the cock and technique department. He felt like an iron block in her ass. She felt the sting and reverberations clear up to her throat. His movements were slowly rhythmic, steady. He was exciting her without tearing her up, spoiling her, tiring her. She'd get her jollies tonight and be fresh tomorrow. And there wouldn't be any welts or diddle-tracks back there for Major Li to find.
He was playing his cock in Gwen's ass like an angler with a trout. Or a sportsman with a barracuda.
Spasms rippled down her spine, shaking her buttocks. Corporal Kang was wheezing, squeezing her shoulders, working those calloused hands down her back, to her rump. He pinched and patted, alternating the hand-loving as he stepped up the pistoning in and out of her rear.
He was reaming her good and Gwen was responding. The excitement of this illicit tryst, the intrusion of her sleep, the man's swift stroking sent her pelvis jerking, her breath burning and heaving in great gasps, her titties slapping together, her belly undulating, her cunt wet and the clitoris pulsing.
She reached down, to finger her swampy cunt, and found Kang's hand at the hairy mound, about to enter. He knocked her hand aside and, without missing a stroke entered her gash, fingering her clitoris in rhythm with this lovely rear assault.
He was moving faster, steadily stepping up the pace. He was there, blowing his rocks in her asshole and setting off a barrage, an incendiary assault that scalded her insides.
"Ah," he breathed as Gwen's cum inundated his hand.
Corporal Kang withdrew, his cockhead slapping her butt crease . . . a final farewell as it softened. "May we talk?"
"If that's all I can get out of you, sure. But you can expect a rape if that cock of yours shows some life." Then Gwen did something she couldn't believe of herself. She fluttered her eyelashes coyly at Corporal Kang.
"We have time to talk. Major Li is in conference and will be the rest of the night."
"What's to talk about."
"You."
"We already covered that subject. Pretty damn well, so far, anyway."
"Please. Let me finish."
"Stay close like you are. And talk all you want."
"What I have to say will be brief."
Gwen elbowed his cock. It felt like jelly. After the bullshit, she'd make it hard and useful again. And then she wondered what she was thinking about. Confusion filled her.
"If you'd stop trying to make me hard you'd be able to better understand what I'm going to tell you."
"Mind reader."
"Elbow-feeler, not mind reader." Corporal Kang laughed dryly, his voice like the rustle of dry leaves in the forest.
"Okay, stud-mouse, say it." Gwen stayed close, her hand absentmindedly tracing the "O" of his flat nipple.
Kang impatiently moved her hand away. "You're a nurse. You know about drugs. You don't have to answer. I know all about you. I know you are an Army nurse. From the way you behaved on the road I knew that you were that special type that Major Li was looking for."
"What type? And how did you know I was the right one?"
"Major Li loves big blondes. The bigger their bones, the better he likes them."
"Oh?"
"That is, he likes tough looking women. Big boned women with broad features and husky, healthy bodies. Next to those short, slim girls you stood out like . . . like . . . "
"A hard on at a Eunuchs' convention."
"Yes, that's lie perfect comparison. Thank you."
"You're welcome."
"You fit the primary qualifications. You were big, busty, with nice round hips and a plump cunt. To see if you had the essential qualities, Captain Wong and I tested you with that black girl. We butchered her to see if it would excite you."
"I've never been excited by that sort of thing. Never!" Gwen exclaimed convincing herself as she remembered what they had done to that lovely black girl.
"I'm no doctor, but we were taught that some women have this passion and it remains dormant until the conditions of their lives are exactly right. For you it was the war, the horror of it, the cold and privation and the slaughter of your comrades. Had you remained at home, safe, with family and friends, you might have never known about yourself. And, of course, the drugs that you were fed helped heighten the excitement."
"Drugs?"
"From that first sip of brandy in Captain Wong's tent, you have been drugged. It's so new it only has a laboratory code, not even a name as yet."
"What's the drug supposed to do?"
"You might call it Spanish Fly for the kinky personality." Corporal Kang stopped speaking. He waited for a reaction.
"It's hard to believe that a drug is What's got me going," Gwen said at last. For a terrible, cold moment, though, she knew it was true.
"What exactly have you felt."
"Well . . . "
"No. I will tell you. You have an almost pathological attachment for Major Li. Yes, he is handsome. But he is also a beast. He forces women to submit to the most heinous of things. Men as well as women are his slaves after taking some of this drug. Without this drug our Major Li would be the loneliest man in the world."
"I still say there would be some side effect . . . "
"There never has been one and this drug has been tested a dozen times so far. With varying effects. The only side effect has been death, or insanity. Never what you call a simple side effect, like dizziness, or nausea, or fainting. Either the subject is enslaved by Li, or the subject becomes unconscious and then dies."
"So a chemical has chained me to Major Li, made me do everything he insists of me, and I do all this without question?" Gwen let her incredulousness creep into her voice.
"Haven't you?" Corporal Kang's voice was amused.
"Haven't I, what?" Gwen snapped her question back. What the Chinese soldier suggested was impossible. It was a trap of some sort.
"Haven't you done all these things without question? Haven't you turned your back on your country, your nurse friends, without so much as a tear? All this for a man you hardly know. You acknowledge all this, and still say you're not under the influence of something more potent than Major Li's charm?"
"I still must be under the influence, as you say, because I'm still devoted, attentive and about to call Major Li and have you trussed up in that stone room, and have your balls burned off." Gwen was cold inside. She felt compelled to answer as she had.
"I could exert a quick thumb pressure right here, and you'd never say another word, let alone cry out." Corporal Kang held Gwen by the throat. The persistent pressure, was choking her.
"Okay." she whispered hoarsely. The turmoil increased in her breast. Her tits were throbbing with need.
He let go. She coughed, reached for the brandy. He held her arm.
"No. Lay off this stuff for a day. In twenty-four hours the drug will have passed through your system. Then you'll see I was right."
"Even if I am drugged," Gwen said, "It's still better than it's ever been for me."
Corporal Kang stared, wide-eyed, not believing. "You mean all this has been that wonderful? You'd risk crippling yourself just to be with him?"
Gwen shrugged. She couldn't explain to Corporal Kang what it meant to feel her clit stiffen, dreading the possibility that it would be mauled by pliers-or worse.
He shook his head. "I can't believe this is the best it has ever been for you."
Gwen shivered. "It has." The thought of pain and torture was making her pussy leak with desire.
"I'm sorry."
"So am I. Sorry for being too big, too clumsy to get the boys when I was younger. The only way I got any attention in high school was to suck off the football team. I nearly had to do the same thing to the girls' volleyball squad. But the boys needed me more; all those dykes were sucking each other off and were very stand-offish. You know. The team that blows together, grows together. Something like that. So I became the school mouth, used by every old boy that wanted his pants spit-washed. That was the first time my body was used. Then I learned to use the boys. That's when I was taking nurse's training. I'd slimmed down a little, learned how to dress and behave. And I had some of the frat rats interested. Even had a couple of 'em blowing me. The point is, Kang. I've been used all my life so this deal with Major Li isn't anything new. And," she lowered her voice, "I learned a long time ago that the important thing was to survive. If I ever leave here, then I'll worry about making peace with my government. Till I do leave, Major Li is my government."
"I can understand surviving." Corporal Kang nodded. "Sometimes we must make a choice, and that choice involves surviving and still fighting for a just cause. We can do both. Fight for justice while we survive. It is not so improbable a marriage."
"Is that what you're doing?"
"I'm surviving, yes."
"And who are you fighting for?"
Kang smiled. "For what is right. That's all you need know."
"I was just wondering." Gwen's thoughts were already beginning to wander to between her legs. She needed something jabbing her there.
"Something to occupy your thoughts? Or were you really interested in a choice. Between Major Li and . . . "
"I was only curious as to why I let you stay," Gwen said abruptly, suddenly nervous.
"You're sweating, trembling and feel like you have ants crawling at the back of your throat and behind your eyes. Yes?"
He covered her mouth. "No. Do not shout. Just listen." Corporal Kang put a knee in the middle of Gwen's belly, pinning her to the mattress. "Now is the time to come with me. Let the drug wear off and then you'll see."
See what? That she was going insane? That's how Gwen felt. Her passion was born in some kind of kinky heaven. What she was feeling sprang from the bowels of hell. Everything Corporal Kang told her came back in a slow flashback. Gwen examined what he had said, turning over each thought and squinting at it through the microscope of her mind. She was like a junkie who knew he was killing himself but was still helpless to kick it off. In her case, Gwen wasn't killing herself. What she was doing was enjoying this newfound way of living. This lifestyle was tougher than that complacent, anemic, shelter she'd lived under back home. Tougher and, therefore, more taxing. She had a hundred welts, a thousand bruises to show. Also, a million orgasms . . . each one more intense, more satisfying than the last.
What was it that Chinese philosopher had said? Better to live one day of pleasure than a thousand days of pain.
Not that her past life had been anything more than just ho-hum dreary. But dreary was the same as living death. Major Li had awakened her, forced her to live. And now this Kang was trying to dissuade her, convince her that Major Li was wrong. Sure, this way was fast to the grave. But it was better fast and fun than slow and dreary. And she did love Major Li, her traveling companion.
"Well," he said. "Will you go with me?" He relaxed his hand so she could reply.
She swallowed, moistened her throat with saliva. "I need . . . "
"Time?"
"Isn't that a commodity that you Chinese have a lot of?"
"True, we've lived, passively accepted the countless warlords that have marched across our land, shackled our people. But you are not of our blood. Your time is not that long." Corporal Kang sighed.
"Meaning?"
"Death is the ultimate orgasm, for you. But for Major Li the ultimate orgasm is to make a robot out of you."
"I'm already crazy. According to you, my mind is rotting with his hot pants sauce."
Through the dimly lighted space that separated them she discerned his concern.
"Right now your mind is still your own. Or it will be once you've withdrawn from the effects of the drug. But he will pump you with increased doses that will destroy your mind. He will control you, mind and soul."
"What happens to the body?"
"You still don't believe, do you?"
"I love Li. I felt sorry for you. That old curse, the maternal one that makes us all good mothers, or at least good enough to stand those terrible, little tit-suckers . . . that feeling women have, I also have. Maybe you like white pussy. Maybe that's what all this is all about." She glared at him. "Is that it? Are you trying to get me in trouble with Major Li so I'll come to you when he kicks me out?" Gwen felt heat in her pussy, goose bumps on her tits. If it was so, how would Major Li punish her. She trembled with ecstatic desire.
"Could be you have a tape recorder under the bed, recording our lovemaking sounds, to play back for Li. To enrage him and dump me?"
"And get my legs chopped?" Corporal Kang chuckled. "You hear how illogical that sounds? He was watching" you in the bathroom. Did you know that?"
"So what?"
"He saw you ruin his toothbrush in your asshole. He really enjoyed that little variation."
"Is this supposed to make me angry?"
Corporal Kang shrugged helplessly. "I waited until he had his laugh. When he left with Captain Wong, I tried to get in the bathroom, to warn you about this next stepped-up phase of Li's brainwashing program. I tried to get in but the door was locked."
"So you got in through the bedroom door." She nudged him. "This is a lot more fun than keyhole peeping."
"Yes," the Chinese Corporal murmured, mirthlessly, ignoring the light tone. He was staring at the dark corners of the room, staring and thinking. Gwen lay on her side facing him, trying to figure out why she let him in. why she allowed him to remain. She was lonely, she decided, and he was a man, taking Li's half of the bed. That was the only reason. Now that she realized this she found herself becoming sleepy. Her cunny was warmed and she was yawning. Time to sweep him out with yesterday.
"Better go, chum," she said after a prolonged yawn went ignored.
"Before I go, let me ask you this."
"Make it short. Like this." She hefted his soft yellow cock with her thumb.
"Will you take a short walk with me? I want to show you something."
Corporal Kang swung off the bed, reached his pile of clothes on the floor by the bed. He flicked the lid off a flask and handed the flask to her. "One swallow will calm the agony. And this is rice wine. Drink."
He held it to her lips. She believed what he had said. The wine after a few scary moments, worked. She lay back, relaxed, her heart fluttering.
He was persistent. She was wide awake now and still a bit frightened.
"That last seizure scared the bile into my sinus cavity. I can't sleep, anyway." She tossed her nightgown on the wrinkled sheet, the part that bore the heat and impression of her body, and their juice tracks. "But one thing right up front, Kang: I'm not making this a forced march, or a long night. Show me what you want me to see and then take off out of my life. Before king stud finds out and chops us both out of his life."
SIX
The air was cool and humid. The chill increased as the wind rose. The sound was like the dead come back, searching for the grave. The wind cut between the corners of the square, making the fountain splash.
She shivered and moved closer to Kang. "Somehow this setting doesn't look as loving," she said, remembering how it looked earlier that day.
"Li had this place built especially for his ultimate creation, which turned out to be you."
They stopped at the square's edge, facing the squat stone building, thirty yards away.
"What are we waiting for?" She linked his arm.
"I want to see if Li is still busy. Wait here."
Kang was gone before she replied. Gwen was alone with the wind for company. This wasn't a good idea, after all. Too cold and she was more tired than she had thought. She hugged herself and wished for the warm embrace of Li, or at the very least, Corporal Kang. Hell, the way she felt, the embrace of the warm sheets would be enough. Gwen was satiated. Not really empty. Just too worn down to do much of anything. Worn down, slightly nervous and having second thoughts about this whole business. She didn't question Li; she couldn't.
Then what was it that gnawed at her?
What Kang had said about Li being busy tonight, that's what disturbed her. Plain, old-fashioned jealousy. The thought of him using her in that stone room and then going out with some other slut infuriated Gwen, and hurt, too. She hoped Li was in that place with some other broad. She'd sure as hell tear that slut's eyes out, and then claw hell out of his balls. And then she would forgive him, lick his wounds.
She was drooling. From the mouth. And the cunt.
Where was that slant-eye, Kang?
She saw him, sprinting toward her, motioning her to follow him. She started toward him, meeting him midway in the square by the fountain. The splashing of the water counter-pointed his rasping breath.
"He is there. With some interesting companions, doing interesting things." He led her by the arm. "There is place where we can watch without being caught."
"What are they doing?" The jealousy and a queer kind of excitement mingled in Gwen's body.
"Making what Li calls love."
"What I've been enjoying? That kind of love?"
"More so." The Chinese Corporal guided her through the shadows to the rear of the building. There was a ten foot space behind the building, and a thirty foot high brick wall which separated the stone building from the rest of the world. "Here," He stopped. "But be quiet."
Quiet was what Li's slut would be after she got through with the bitch. But Gwen said, sweetly: "I'll behave."
Kang glanced at her, trying to read the motive behind the promise. But he couldn't in the dim light.
Squatting, the Corporal eased out an eight inch wedge of cement, part of a cement block. He motioned for her to join him. She folded her skirt under her butt and sat.
Through the slot in the wall, she saw Li and Wong were naked, save for broad leather belts that were no more than six inches high, from seam to seam. Heavy tarnished metal buckles held the belts to their muscular waists. Dangling from the belts were leather pouches which supported their genitals. Their skins were oiled. Gwen couldn't see the flesh but she smelled a bitter, musky aroma. Each man held a cat-o-nine tails, a dozen long wormlike strands knotted at the base, and tied together with leather strips. On the ends of the strands were tiny knots, like the knotted tip of the whip that had kissed Gwen's flesh. But, tonight, Gwen's replacement was a short, slim Asian girl with silky black hair that dropped to her buttocks. Her arms were suspended over her head, wrists securely fastened to an overhead chain.
The girl's back was toward Gwen. Both men cupped the girl's small firm buttocks, kneading, stroking, patting and then pinching her supple cheeks. She whimpered with fright when they pinched her. But when she was patted and stroked she sighed with delight.
Li, holding the girl's ass, turned her toward the place where Gwen hid. The girl's knees drew up and she turned. The chains creaked. She grunted and threw her head back, not looking at the Major. Her hair whispered as the ebony strands rustled along her shoulders and back. The arm muscles glistened and flexed. As she moved, the muscles in her stomach tightened. Her breasts, small as baseballs and tiny nippled, lifted, strained. The muscles in her face quivered. Muscle spasms went through her shoulders, through her tits, belly and along her thighs. Her lower belly was covered with a thick jet black pelt.
Li twisted one crimson nipple. The girl grunted, the sound moved Gwen's eyes from the pubic pelt to the girl's face. Objectively she noted the thin lips, high cheekbones and slanted eyes that were glazed and expressionless. An attractive but ordinary face; the face and body of a girl not more than nineteen, younger perhaps.
Li squatted, kissing her foot, stroking the arch. A vacant smile passed rapidly over the girl's face. Li caressed her calf as he tasted the big toe. The girl inhaled and exhaled rapidly. Her knees drew closer to her slim body. She clenched her thighs, rapidly flexing and relaxing. While Li kissed her feet, Captain Wong seized her hair. Wong's hand dropped to her left tit. He pressed his thumb into the nipple. The girl whined and whipped her pelvis up and down. The motion was automatic, like a fist opening and unclosing, spasmodically, in dream.
Captain Wong nibbled at her cheek, chin and, shoulders. The squat Chinese officer cupped a buttock in his yellow hand to steady the girl-child. She lifted her chin, tilting her head away from Wong. He kissed her smooth throat. Gwen glimpsed her tightly clenched eyelids, the quivering cheek, the lips drawn back, exposing her rigidly set jaw, spittle trickling from the corners of her mouth down her jaws to her chin.
Sweat gathered on the Korean girl's flesh. Pearls of sweat gathered around her tiny pouch of a belly and seeped from her tightly curled belly button. The smell was bittersweet, the aroma of orgasm.
Wong and Li were trembling and the girl, eyes still closed, sensed their excitement. A smile of contentment crossed that child's mouth . . . a child being tucked in at night by a loving parent, Gwen thought. The image passed fast as her loins filled and spasms racked her thighs. The ground was cold under her butt. Gwen's flesh was heating rapidly, cutting through the damp chill. Her thighs were suddenly very wet and the night air turned the tender muscles into goose-pimpled columns. The oriental girl was crying, her lips parted, her head corkscrewing back and forth. Gwen feverishly parted her own slick thighs and, balancing on the balls of both feet, began to caress her own fat pudenda.
Wong was laving the girl's breasts, first one, then the other, in quick succession. As he kissed one he pinched the other. Major Li was mouthing the girl's gaping snatch. He spread her open, clutching her buttocks in his cruel hands. His neck muscles knotted as he tongue-kissed the thick-haired pudenda.
Gwen's anger slammed into her throat, making her choke. The bastard was sucking the child victim off, kissing and chewing her clit. Major Li never gave her that kind of treatment, showed her that much affection. And that skinny slant-eyed slut was so dazed and dazzled she was numb. She didn't show much more reaction than a brief smile and a toss of that pretty hair. Now if Li was kissing Gwen she'd show a lot more emotion. For damn sure. She'd be twisting, turning, bucking her big hips, slamming her buttocks up and down, making her big boobs dance and leap. She'd let Major Li know how much she loved his tongue in her hole, how she needed his teeth on her throbbing clit, how she wanted to feel her blood flow around her own non-stop orgasm.
She heard a whimper. For a moment, Gwen couldn't recognize it. Then, as Li and Wong stopped, listened, she realized that she was making the sound. She bit her lip, glancing sheepishly afraid at the Chinese beside her. Corporal Kang was having troubles of his own. His pecker was hard. It jutted out like a fallen tree. He massaged the front of his pants.
Lover's cramps, Gwen thought, reaching for him.
Before Kang could protest, she had his pants unzipped and his cock out. Still watching Major Li enjoying the banquet of young girl's pussy, Gwen pistoned Kang's shaft. Kang was bracing his palms against the damp stone blocks to keep from falling forward. Gwen followed the technique that Captain Wong was using on the girl's tits-as Wong suckled, she gently pumped. When Wong bore down, sinking his teeth into the girl's breast, Gwen squeezed the shaft, and dragged a thumbnail across the spongy tip.
Corporal Kang bit his lip, shutting off a shout that burned and ached in his throat.
Li was still sucking the girl's worn and bleeding hot box. The girl must've had a dozen orgasms, at least. Her knees kept jerking, legs tightening up. She was wailing, her voice skittering up an octave, then dropping into a guttural animal cry of lust.
The bitch. And that bastard. I hope he gets a dose in the month and has to have his tongue cut out. I hope she gets pried open like an orange.
Gwen couldn't look any more. She was too outraged, too horny. Kang was blowing his rocks into her hand. The hot white stuff boiled over her index finger, gathered in the hollow between the thumb and forefinger. Gwen had already climaxed a couple of times although she couldn't remember when it had happened. All she had for proof was a palmful of come. But more remained in her cunt, like a traffic jam during the rush hour. Her body was plugged and ached so. Ached for Major Li. And there he was, not more than twenty feet away, primed to go. She couldn't see his cock but his back was a mass of knots. He was tense, ready all right. He was ready but not rushing. No, the bastard was priming the girl bitch, working her into a frenzy, the kind of condition that he hadn't even tried to excite in Gwen. Comparing the length of the foreplay going on in the blockhouse and the amount of effort he'd taken with Gwen, her share of the lovemaking was closer to a rape. That sonofabitch. Here he had a gorgeous big titted blonde to fuck and he opted for a skinny pale green-skinned punk kid . . . her skin, in the diffused light, looked the color of anemic pea soup.
While she fumed, Gwen gripped Kang's cock. Finally, as he went soft and her fingers pinched, he pried loose from her grip.
"Buddah!" he snarled under his breath, "you damn near tore it off."
His breath was heavy with a cool vegetable smell.
"I'm a tough broad. Isn't that way you're trying to get me angry at Li?"
Gwen's words might have attracted the attention of Major Li and Captain Wong if the girl hadn't been howling so loud.
They let go of her. She turned like meat on a freezer rack, slowly, back and forth, cutting a long jagged shadow on the stone as she circled in an arc. Li was holding his genitals. He let his cock dangle free and lift. Stepping back to give Captain Wong plenty of room, Li slowly pumped his shaft.
Wong had the cat-o-nine-tails. His round, sweaty moon face fairly glowed. The girl's eyes came open. Fear burned in them. But then that silly child's smile of contentment appeared. Wong turned his back on his superior, tightening the belt. It cinched his waist, accentuating the swell of his buttocks. He braced himself, swinging the whip. Major Li kept pumping his cock-harder and fasteras Wong swung the lash over his head and brought it down hard. The cat-o-nine-tails raked the girl's back, reversing the left to right arc. She yelped, like a dog caught in a trap. Jagged thin welts appeared. Trickles of blood zigzagged down the middle of her back and spread as her hips shuddered.
The Chinese captain aimed at her shoulders and more welts broke across her skin. As he worked the whip his rump jerked. Li, still stroking came up behind the underling, gripped the Captain's waist and fed his cock into Wong's narrow asshole. Wong nodded, shuddered and kept swinging the lash. The girl shuddered under the caress of the leather and bellowed for more. Gwen didn't think a voice that loud could come from a chest cavity that small. With each assault, the girl's diaphragm kicked and Gwen wondered if she had looked that way when she had been excited by the kiss of the whip.
"That butt-fucking faggot," she said tightly. "Look at him, screwing that other ape, and they're both enjoying themselves."
"I told you they do."
"Crap, he comes to me with Wong's shit still stuck to his cockhead."
"And you loved it."
"Before I knew about the competition."
The admission came out so quick, without her even realizing she felt this way, that Gwen was surprised.
Kang looked pleased. At least the way he gripped her hand made her think that he was happy with that statement.
"We've seen enough." He tugged at her arm.
She pulled away, her knuckles striking the stones. "Ouch." She kissed the skinned middle knuckle. "Not yet. I haven't seen enough yet."
Kang reluctantly settled down beside her. No sense starting an argument out here. It was foolhardy, the two of them exposing themselves this way. But he didn't dare leave the girl. She was the key.
The party inside shifted into high gear. Wong swung the whip, then let it fly over his head, striking the wall that Gwen and Kang crouched in front of. He bent over and Gwen saw his cock, dangling. Bracing both hands on his knees, Wong remained still while Major Li screwed his ass. Captain Wong was making woman sounds . . . deep throated moans that set his lungs heaving. While Li pistoned in jagged movements, Wong held his head back, staring blindly at the ceiling.
The girl, meantime, turned in that slow, steady arc, eyes shut, mouth slack, blood oozing. She was either unconscious, or smothered in a pillow of passion.
Would Gwen be dead? Passed out? Or so full of passion that she couldn't do more than dangle, and slowly turn? Gwen was stronger than Major Li's other twat. She loved it better than the girl-child seemed to. If Gwen fainted it would be from lack of food, not lack of sex-stamina. So she thought. She would never know unless she took action.
From where she sat, she saw the door. The bolt was back. The door would open without much use of strength. She'd have plenty of strength left for the game inside.
She got up. "I'm going."
"Yes." Corporal Kang rose also, to accompany her to the Major's lodging.
"No. This is a one-way journey meant for one. Me."
He grabbed her arm. "Oh, no. You go to bed."
"A stone bed." Gwen twisted free and trotted toward the entrance. Kang grabbed her before she reached the door. Struggling to free herself, she fell backward, taking Kang with her. He landed on top, pinning her to the damp earth next to the building.
"There is only one way to keep you safe until the drug wears off. And this is the way." The corporal pulled up Gwen's skirt and dropped her panties. She spread her thighs for him, excited by the sudden feel of his fingers. She jumped, gasped as he tugged back her labia. Her dewy softness rose to his downward thrust. He guided into those steamy, rippling muscle. They fitted together nicely, Gwen thought. This was a great place to do it, too. The ground was cold, but soft. And, by turning her head, she could see what was going on inside the building.
The girl in chains remained comatose. Captain Wong threw his head back. His shout made the girl's eyelids flutter. She remained passive.
Gwen arched her back, meeting Kang, back up and hips twisting. She jerked, locked her legs around his hips to draw him close and hold him there. He was charging ahead, steadily picking up the pace, spewing sweat-lathers from his brow and legs. The ground was slick with their come and sweat now. The earth was slimy. The smell pungent, overpowering. Li and Wong were quiet now, probably exhausted, she figured. Gwen's lips chewed to keep from crying out as she exploded.
Corporal Kang was good. She had to give him that much. Not much in the cock department, not pretty in a rugged masculine way like Major Li. But what he lacked there he made up in technique. This attentiveness, this concern for her pleasure would have been more appreciated back home, a century ago. Too much had happened to Gwen since then. She was too full of jealousy, and love for Li to fully appreciate this young, gasping Chinese who tried so hard to please her, and had partway succeeded.
"Another time, sonny," she said wistfully to Kang. "And that ain't just another song title, either."
He pushed up, using his palms, his arms straddling her near the ribs. "Now we can go."
She let him help her up. "Only one place I'm going, stud." She ducked low, threw a shoulder into the Corporal's midsection.
Kang flew back, his head striking the wall. There was a thud. He gasped, falling on his side, unconscious.
"My place is in there." Gwen glanced wistfully at Kang. She half believed him. But she couldn't hold back against the incredible need filling her.
She stooped for a final glimpse before breaking in. The men had the Korean girl untied and on her back. They were talking in guttural whispers, and nodding at the girl as they spoke.
Major Li and Captain Wong were so engrossed in the conference they would never hear her until she'd entered. By then they wouldn't be able to refuse what she had to offer.
She'd show Li who the better woman was. After tonight he'd cut loose his other girls, and put a padlock and "for sale" sign on Wong's ass. She thought it to herself like it was true, and to her, it was.
SEVEN
Before entering she stripped. Her breasts trembled, kissed by the night's chill. The tips raised. Belly rippling, thoughts painfully, pleasantly tense, Gwen pulled the door open.
The two didn't notice her at first; they were busy trussing the girl to the table. She was on her back, awake, eyes wide, quivering as both men stared down at her, whispering words that Gwen barely heard and didn't understand.
A moment's fear at being rejected passed. She strode to the stone table. The men turned, surprised.
"What . . . what are you doing here?" For the first time in their relationship, Gwen was seeing Major Li without his composure.
Captain Wong's gaze was riveted on her pubic bush. Her lust oil was thick and heavy. The substance slickened the luxuriant bush to her puckered, scarlet labia.
"You are excited?" Wong folded his arms across his hairy chest. Spasms of sexual excitement racked him. He couldn't control the reaction of his lust-thickened prick. He had never believed the big, blonde American nurse would go this far, practically begging to be hurt.
"Answer him," Li ordered, gripping her arm.
"I heard there was a party and I love parties." Gwen's tone was calm casual. A facade to cover the desire flaring through every pore, gushing along every vein. Drug or no, she was ready to do anything Major Li wanted, even if it meant. . . .
"Don't worry, Major," Wong said in their native tongue. "She suspects nothing. She couldn't possibly know how she is being used."
Li replied, in Chinese, "What is she doing here, then?"
"As she said, she couldn't sleep, went for a walk, returned here-the scene of so much pleasure-and tried the door, found it open and prepared herself for more of what she enjoyed this afternoon." Captain Wong's lust was infectious. Major Li was a cautious man. But the idea that she had come looking for him. apparently ready for the pelasure of dying, screaming and writhing under his knife, was too great an ego pleaser to be ignored.
Li exerted more pressure on her arm. "Is that true?"
"Is .what true?"
"Did you just happen to find us?"
"I found you because you were within walking distance. If you and Mister Muscle there had taken a night flight to Tangiers I wouldn't have found you."
"Such humor," Captain Wong scoffed, pretending to turn his attention to the girl who was beginning to quiver on the cold stones. Her pussy gave off the aroma of passion and that held his attention.
"So what do we do, gentlemen?" She pulled free of Li's grip. "Talk? Insult each other? Or fuck? What's the name of this game, studs . . . fellow studs," she added, eying the spread-eagled woman girl. "Very nice," she hefted the girl's muscled thigh looking at her slopping pussy. She kept making comments under her breath, waiting for her captors to make their move. She used the singular reference because she knew that whatever happened it would be a singular combined effort. Both men would take her together. Being shared didn't bother Gwen as much as she thought. Not as long as Li was part of the triangle. And, after all, Wong was coarse, totally devoid of refinement. totally unpleasant. Yet he had a great figure. Marvelous prick. And used his brutal masculinity in a brutal manner. And that's how she was liking it these days. "Well, fellas, what do we do? Who do we do it to? Her? Me? Huh?" She turned her back on the girl, resting her buttocks against the table rim she folded her arms, pressing her arms against her aching, throbbing breasts. The stone edge cut into her butt . . . another mild yet enjoyable sensation. But this wasn't getting it done. What was needed was more vigorous action. "Come on, gang. Let's do it." Her words ran together, breathily, as she exhaled.
"She sounds interested, Major." Wong was being sly, under control. Yet his steadily stiffening cock belied his control.
"Interested, and ready," Major Li said, casually, watching the love juice boil over Gwen's bush, turning the golden brown into a dusky, dusty tangle. The lubricant spilled down her upper thighs. The few hairs there became plastered to the muscular columns.
"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't interested." She laughed. "I lost my curiosity when I saw two dogs, fucking, when I was a tad of a child. Since then all I've been curious about was how long it would take my men to get around to taking my pants down, and taking me down on the ground. I already saved you the trouble of removing my panties. So what else do you need? An engraved invitation? One that's engraved on my ass? In fire? Huh?" Her voice rose, clattered against the walls. "If that's what you want then bring on the branding irons."
She was shaking all over; her outcry overwhelming the girl's faint sobs.
Wong and Li took a step forward. Gwen's trembling breasts, quaking belly, gushing cunt told them she was ready, telegraphed her need. And they would respond in kind.
Gwen figured out what she would have to do to win back her man. The one thing that predators needed . . . the one thing that had turned Li on before. Only now there weren't any dry towels or rags around and what she had to use to excite him made her nauseated. She envied all men right then. They had the muscle . . . the fuck stick . . . the power, raw, brutal, unrelenting . . . the strength needed to give Li what he wanted but didn't take because to assume that passive position would, in some way she couldn't fathom, admit failure as a man.
"Come here, Major Li," she ordered.
The tone's force surprised Major Li, stopped him an arm's length from the stone table.
"I said come here."
And he came to her, waving Wong back.
"What's it to be, my dear?" The oily silky sounds formed grease pods in her chest.
"My dear, what do you want?" He took her in his arms, holding her at arm's length, kneading her biceps. His breath was bitter, like the smell of an iron fence after a summer downpour. His knotted muscles rippled. The skin glistened. His face was twisted in a leer.
His eyes were dilated, receded. His long straight hair sagged across his brow, throwing strands of black, like soot, along the upper portion of his temple.
She played with his nipples. "What you want." Her hand dropped, covered his cock. "I'm going to play a little game, Li. Like we played in bed last night. Only this time I'll be the towel. Do you remember?"
His cock tensed, pre-come spurted, his face paled, the cheek muscles flinched.
"I see you do remember. Major."
"Yes, yes, T do."
"Good. Now all you have to do is relax and follow my lead."
She stepped between her lover and Captain Wong. The captain gave ground, interested, excited. He cupped his balls, and watched. The girl on the table turned her head. Her crying had stopped. She tried, instinctively, to reach her pussy. Her hands were tied. She tugged at the leather, whimpering when the thongs held.
Gwen got behind Li, pushed his lower back. He bent over. She spread his legs. He was tense, expectant. That was good. His imagination was creating a kick that would be far greater than the actual act.
She tugged at his cock shaft with her hand. He gasped. Back leg muscles set rigidly. She got down on her hands and knees and shoving her head between his legs she tongue-patted the cockhead. He was gasping. If she was lucky he'd come before she had to do what had to be done. For she admitted to herself that the girl was prettier and in better condition than she had looked through the cement crack. Gwen couldn't compete with this little dolly. And all the kid had to do was lay there, passive, and enjoy the action. If Gwen was going to win back her China doll she had to make it good for him.
She laved the spongy tip, patting his ass at the same time. He was loving it, she noted with some pride. The pre-come was becoming more solid . . . the first burst of jizz struck her tongue tip. She made a trench of her tongue, curved inward, and sucked down the creamy, thick jelly. She had to hold his legs, like Samson bracing his hands on the temple pillars before he pulled that hedonistic house down on himself and his enemies. She avoided the shaft, concentrating on the sensitive peak. He was gushing faster. He closed his legs to keep from falling, trapping her head. Just then she felt hot hands on her ass, then a jerk to raise her hips. Trembling fingers separated her cheeks. Two swift bursts of jizz lubricated her innards, scalding the hole. She grunted and nearly lost her balance as Wong forced his prick into her ass. He rode her fast, in and out, drilling deeper with each pass, making her feel it all the way through her stomach and into her brain, creating bright red, yellow and purple cascading dots before her eyes. He was coming fast, too. Each spurt hitting with such force she nearly fell. With each eruption she came; the ground beneath her feet was oozy with their combined orgasms. Li's jizz dribbled from the corners of her mouth, down her chin, nearly smothering her. For even though she drank rapidly she couldn't keep up with him. Seconds passed and Li ran out of sperm. Wong was done, too, and was withdrawing. Like a cork coming out of a bottle the sound of his withdrawal was soft, popping. The captain grunted, mumbled something in Chinese and retreated, leaving her backside drenched in sweat. His seed slicked the lower slope of her dewlapped buttocks. The few hairs back there felt as if they had been torn from their sockets. His retreat removed the warmth of his body. Goosebumps broke out and her back muscles quavered. She felt her buttocks lift and lower in an abrupt, short lived rhythm. And this wasn't the end of it. Before she was done she'd be plenty sweaty, and cold.
Li started to disengage himself. She slapped his ass.
"No," she barked. "I'm not done yet."
"But T am." He snapped his fingers and Wong approached, with a robe.
"Get the hell back you overweight Chinaman."
Her forcefulness stopped Wong.
"Do what she says, Wong," Li droned, with a shrug. "For a few more seconds."
Wong withdrew. The girl, meanwhile, was grunting, her legs pressed together as she worked to get her rocks off.
"Shut the hell up, bitch."
The girl didn't understand this dominating. pale skinned woman's words. All she understood was the forceful tone of voice. She obeyed, blushing, eyes downcast, avoiding the penetrating, unblinking stare. This woman's eyes were blue. Like pure lakes kissed with sunlight. Clear. Tiny fires pinpointing just beneath the surface. The child was acutely aware of the reaction this big blonde was having on her. If she could only communicate this feeling to this plump, healthy looking woman. She whimpered, frustrated.
"You shut up." Then Gwen lowered her voice, making the sound tender. "Please, be quiet. Behave and T will take care of you. Promise."
The girl understood. Their eyes met. They exchanged a warm thought.
"Now, Li," she said, all business once more. "You stay right where you are."
"My feet are cold," he replied, lamely, dancing on one foot.
"Baby will warm them up."
"If you don't," Wong threatened, behind her, "I will."
Li laughed. "Your turn will come, my friend, Wong." Then, to her: "What will you do, to warm my feet?" He tried to tell her what he needed by the tone of voice, without saying the words that he couldn't admit, not even now, not even if it meant pleasure for him to ask for, and receive. To ask was an admission of something he dare not face. To submit, to subject himself, to surrender himself totally would destroy him. He must not, would not give in.
"I don't tell, Li. I show."
As she talked she positioned him again, same stance, legs spread, his upper torso bent toward the altar. The girl was again watching, waiting, praying for her turn.
Gwen squatted, holding a hand over her own rear hole, to avoid any distractions. She wanted in, and then out, as soon as possible. Bending her knees slightly, she spread open his ass cheeks. He was shaking already, snaking and gasping and lifting and lowering on the balls of his feet. This was going to be quick.
She reached between his legs, clutched his stick, pumped the shaft lightly as she kissed his cheeks. There was some hair protruding and she seized the curled strands between her teeth, and pulled. He winced, whimpered. His cock hardened. She pumped faster. Parting his cheeks with her tongue she laved the inner crease. Crusted waste exuded a stale, bitter odor and taste. And even so it wasn't unpleasant. Somehow she couldn't accept what it was that she was doing; the love she had felt for Li returned, drowning the jealousy and hurt, in a tidal wave of desire. She hungrily devoured the inner crease, accepting whatever was lodged there without hesitation.
"Oh . . . oh . . . " Li moaned, accepting, submitting, his head rocking back and forth, his hands at his sides, clenching, relaxing.
She kept at him, pumping the shaft, running a thumb nail across the head, massaging closer to that tiny hole, her tongue bathing the sensitive inner muscles. That tiny aperture was closed. He was fighting her, fighting the inevitable confrontation with the man he really was. By tightening his muscles he was forestalling, for a time, this realization. She didn't know this, though. All she knew was that Li was tense, that this massage wasn't bringing him the pleasure that she wanted to give him. She kept on, pumping faster, kissing him, making guttural sucking sounds as she breathed deeper, probing higher, reaching the anus. He hollered. She paused, then slithered the tongue tip deeper still, into an area no human had ever invaded. She plugged him, jammed the tip until it could no longer advance. That was deep enough. The vibrations had reached the prostate. His cock felt bigger than it ever had before. It was a hot slab, like a sun baked tombstone, in her hand. The come erupted. He wrenched his hips rapidly, in a pitiful feminine way. made even more pitiful by the helpless wail that escaped him, by the unskilled, unfamiliar way his hips worked. She dropped his cock, gripped his hips to keep from falling over. Her own hips were working. Her big ass swung sideways, the cheeks slapping together. She bucked and twisted and still maintained her balance. Her tongue remained lodged in that moist snug flesh-cocoon. She wiggled the tip and that got him going again. She felt his innards tighten up, could visualize the cock raising, the buttocks closing. She opened her eyes and was dazzled by a vast expanse of smooth, soft butt flesh. He smelled so strong, so virile. Yet the butt muscles, somehow, were those of a woman. But her Li was certainly no woman. A bit strange, perhaps. But, then, hadn't she heard that power corrupts?
She laved what she could before he jerked forward, nearly tearing out her tongue. He fell, palms open and spread, against the table edge. Bellowing, he rubbed his shaft on the cold stone. He tensed, rubbed faster, then whimpered as his climax exploded with a muted popping kissing sound. He sagged to the floor on his knees, pressing his flushed sweating forehead against the impassive coldness of the rim.
The girl wailed, begged in her native tongue for release. Wong went to her. He had passively observed and now wanted to be a participant. He climbed onto the altar, ignoring his Major and the woman who went to him, knelt beside him, embraced his shoulder, pressed her hip against his hip, whispered comforting words, begged him to tell her what was the matter. Wong ignored this passionate display, the kind of ridiculous charade that lovers engage in, thinking that a few sincere words, a sincere sacrificing of flesh to assuage their love partner's fears and hurt, could ever lesson the hurt. And what had his Major to fear? The loss of the one thing he had never had. the one thing he had deluded himself into believing he'd had. Wong dismissed the other couple as he knelt between the child's legs, felt her thighs tighten to grip him, felt the slick of her belly sweat, slid into the curly haired jet black depths. The snug labia closed on his cockhead. The muscles expanded to accept his girth. She cried out, ecstasy mixed with discomfort at so big a man in her young belly.
Wong lunged ahead, not giving a damn whether or not the girl enjoyed the assault, not really caring about anyone save himself, his own pain that ran through his passion-clogged testicles. He humped with a bull's abandon, not feeling the presence of the others, not even realizing that he had a partner. All she was a receptacle for his lust. Receptacles didn't feel, weren't human. He humped methodically, sawing her tender, sensitive fibers. All he thought about as he plunged away was how much snugger, warmer, moister her ass might be. Too much trouble now to untie her, turn her over. He couldn't wait. His nuts hurt too much. Wong pummeled the child, felt her inside muscles grip him, hungrily, selfishly taking him, holding him, using him to achieve her own satisfaction. She wouldn't let go, couldn't let go. She held tight, wishing for the blonde, imagining what the older woman would be like. And as her imagination formed sharply etched fantasies the woman-child hit her orgasm. Wong bore down, striking repeatedly with tiny, sharp blows. Her sudden clenched hold, and scream, startled him, for he had forgotten what it was he was fucking. His rocks gave up their load, the semen issued forth, flooding the small vessel, spilling over onto the stone wedges beneath her rump. He rode her until she sagged, went limp. Then he realized that he was soft, and still pumping away as though trying to drive out the demons of his soul by pushing them away, stuffing them into her, making her the unwilling receptacle of his panic, forcing his demons onto her and thereby freeing himself.
As he climbed off he couldn't pin down what shape those demons took. He only knew that they were there, lurking somewhere on the other side of his vision, lurking and observing and waiting to pounce whenever he lowered his guard. He couldn't help but feel that this utopia of Hamhung was about to be destroyed. Not from without but from within. He didn't know when it would happen, what form it would take, not even who would be the instrument of this destruction. It would happen. He knew that much and, furiously, he started in on the girl, determined to take what pleasure remained.
Still soft, he covered her belly with his body. He rubbed his limp stick on her soft belly. She understood what he was trying to do and tensed the muscles, providing a perfumed pillow for his gyrations.
He rubbed himself into an erection. He scooted up; she opened her mouth. Her tongue darted, crisscrossing his cockhead, flinging spittle into his curled pubic zone. His nuts rubbed her chin; she sucked him off. His massiveness strained her jaws, forced them wide. She gagged. The sound was muffled. He poured the juice of his loins down her throat and her Adam's apple bobbed as she accepted all that he gave. He was empty again and he climbed off. Glancing down he saw the vacant, lust drained dullness of her eyes, the slack jaws, speckled with his seed, the tousled hair matting her forehead. He squashed a jizz pod on her chin, felt the pod explode into nothingness, heard her grunt from the pressure, a weak grunt at that, he observed, feeling better somehow, less afraid, more sure of himself, his strength, his entire universe which was squeezed into the make shift compound known as Hamhung. Beyond this utopia was the real world. But its existence didn't trouble him any longer. Or at least it didn't bother him as much. Tomorrow, he knew, he would have to face it. But not now. And, if he was lucky, not tomorrow, either.
He climbed off the altar, turning his back and his thoughts on the child. He was more interested now in the other bitch, the big blonde American. She was still seated on the floor, an arm around Li's waist, kissing the docile officer. As he passed them, on his way outside to piss, he wondered what games they would devise, and what his role would be.
EIGHT
Gwen held Major Li, cradled his head, holding his feverish cheek to her breast. So like a child now. She didn't understand why, and that frightened her.
"What's wrong, my dear?"
Li didn't reply. He exhaled saliva and breath over her soft breast.
"You didn't enjoy it? Why?"
He cleared his throat, tested the phrases before beginning. He had already shown weakness. Now it had to end, at least for his underlings. His awakening, his horror would have to be dealt with in private, alone. He would grapple with this demon and best him. But even as he made this vow his prostate tingled and his rectal muscles clenched.
"I suppose I'm tired," he heard himself say. "That's why I'm behaving this way."
She patted his cheek. "Yes, you had a long day. We both did."
He let her mother him a moment longer before knocking her hand aside, and climbing to his feet. His bladder was full. He excused himself and went out.
She was alone. No Wong and now no Li. Just her and her desire. Gwen had been doing all the giving, now she wanted some getting. Just then she became aware of the girl. The child lay wide eyed, silent, watching her, transfixed, like an infant with a new toy, a new discovery. Only, Gwen realized, the girl knew what it was that was fascinating her. The child knew, and wanted it. Well, Gwen wanted something, too, and right then, after what she'd just been through, she wasn't particular where she got it. But, before she went after relief, she wanted the girl to know exactly what was expected of her.
Gwen spread her own legs, hefted her tits, squeezing the nipples, crushing the erect thumbs. Gwen ran her hands down her sides, cupping her belly, prying open her cunt, pulling the erect clitoris free of the muscle cover. Then, as the child gaped and gasped, Gwen turned, completing the seduction. She patted, fondled her own buttocks, marveling at the suppleness of her flesh, the smoothness of her skin. She probed the outer areas, trying to imagine what it had been like for Li.
"I'll find out," she said, shiny eyed, trembling.
She ran to the altar. The girl moaned, twisted against her bonds as Gwen climbed on. her titties dancing, belly pumping even before she settled down beside the child. Gwen kissed the girl's mouth. Their tongues locked, saliva flowed and mingled. Gwen crawled on top of the child. Their tits crushed together, hips churned to the same rhythm. Without freeing the girl, Gwen got up suddenly. The child cried out, not sure what was going to happen, frightened that this huge wonderful being was going to desert her.
Gwen crouched over the girl, lowered herself until the child's mouth was juxtaposed with Gwen's ripe hind flesh. The girl tried to reach Gwen's cunt, with her tongue. Gwen shied away, spread her rear cheeks.
"Suck me there," she commanded, lowering herself. When the girl's tongue tickled the outer butt-rim, Gwen giggled, then raised her head and shut her eyes. Moaning, her tongue tip darting along her lips, Gwen settled down, letting the girl ream her anus.
Yes, it was a thrill. A delicious experience. She envied Li's orgasm and knew hers would be just as deep, as overwhelming. She sat on the girl's face, nearly smothering the child in dewy flesh folds. The girl's nose was pressed against Gwen's snatch. The hind and public hairs tickled. The sweet-bitter flesh stung. But the girl stayed at that succulent fruit pie. She tilted her chin back, to better seize that deeply packed blind eye. The woman was jerking back and forth, making steady penetration difficult. She remained at her task. Kissing, grunting, pouring saliva up and into that marvelous deep cavern. Then the big woman tensed. The orgasm flowed, stinging, choking, overpowering, awakening a need in her own snatch, a need that so far hadn't been satisfied.
Gwen whipped her pelvis, marveling at the child's technique. The kid kept at it, giving and giving like a baby taking and taking at its mother's tit. The little bitch was like the Oriental women she'd heard so much about: self sacrificing for their men. Gwen didn't know that also applied to their women, too. A lover in a lover, she figured. Devotion was devotion. But to find such devotion in one so young, so attentive to a stranger . . . that was really something to marvel at. Maybe Gwen would repay the kindness. Pretty quick, in fact, she mused as her clitoris emptied. She remained at the girl's mouth. The girl was sobbing, probably drowning in all that flesh and orgasm.
Gwen scooted back, pinning the girl's titties. Looking down at the child, she smiled and the girl smiled back weakly. Tears streaked her cheeks. Her eyes were luminescent from the tears. Her lips were pale and coated with Gwen's spent passion. Her mouth opened slightly. In a weak voice she whispered one word. Gwen cradled the girl's face, bending ever so slightly to hear. She understood and she laughed. The girl was saying: fuck. Kissing the child on the mouth she swung around, her vagina lowering onto the girl's face.
"That's exactly what we'll do, my young friend. Together."
She positioned herself so her clit was against the girl's mouth. The girl began kissing her pubic pelt. Gwen pressed her lips to the fragrant fur. When the girl's tongue penetrated. Gwen entered, keeping stride with her partner. The child clasped Gwen's clit between her teeth, surprising Gwen, sending rills like hot needles through her vagina, touching off tiny orgasms that built toward the massive climax. Gwen took the girl's smaller clit between her teeth. But that tiny bud was slippery and not nearly the size of Gwen's thumb-like gland. So Gwen tongue-kissed the organ. She was almost there; Gwen felt the first eruptions, tiny at first but rapidly building. The kid was going to come in a big burst, as massive as those belly quaking explosions that Gwen enjoyed. She was going to make the kid enjoy it, and more if the child was up to it. Gwen controlled her own climax until the girl, with a yelp, went off. Then Gwen let go and they were both inundated in perfume, and heat and tidal waves of desire. They clung together, prolonging the pleasure, the ecstasy for as long as possible and when they were both empty they tried to re-ignite the lust. But both women were satiated, fatigued. As Gwen climbed off she became impatient. She wanted a party that was coed, with Li on top and maybe the child next to them somewhere. She was a lovely child, though. And Gwen kissed her warmly, sincerely. She didn't untie her, however. Somehow the girl looked natural shackled.
NINE
Li and Wong were back in the room. The men were grinning, glancing at each other, sharing a secret, a truth. In Wong's hand was a small iron bowl with a screen over the top and handles on either side. As he put the bowl on the floor near the altar something inside the vessel rattled.
Wong squatted, his big balls bumping the handle and, winking at Li, he produced matches. He struck the stick match on the floor and when it ignited, he dropped it into the bowl. Immediately the bowl's insides became a single flame. Gwen realized that this iron bowl was, in reality, a small portable grill.
"You remember, my dear," Li said at her side, "this afternoon. When I showed you this." He took from his belt the short pole with the solid disc on the tip of it. "You seemed interested. I hope the interest was more than cursory."
She sensed what was going to happen. At that moment she didn't know what her reaction would be. For, as the drug wore off, her own inhibitions were returning. She realized for certain now that she had been drugged. And still her emotions weren't under control.
"I'm still interested." She moved closer to the comforting warmth. The coals sputtered, spewing light to match the overhead glow. Corner shadows remained and for an instant a cold fear passed over her heart, transmitted from something that lurked there, in those shadows. She was a child again, on the farm, and it was a cold Autumn night with the wind making frightening sounds against the corn silo, and the tree branches scratching like cat's claws, against the window. But she was not a child. She was an adult playing adult games and enjoying them with the man she was in love with. And shadows were merely that. Places where the light hadn't reached. Not hiding places for demons, emissaries from hell, sent to carry her off to a passion's pit too horrifying even for her.
Li turned the iron disc across the coals, stirring up sparks. He held the pole steady, ignoring the heat that singed the hair on his legs. Wong paced near the flaming bowl, lip chewing, rubbing his hands together.
"Here," Li said. "Do this. Your pacing makes me nervous." He let the pole lean toward the floor, the disc-tip impaled between two coals.
Wong took hold of the pole, stirring occasionally, raising the sparks. Li crossed to the altar and untied the child. He helped her off and escorted her into a corner, where she knelt rubbing her wrists, watching the two men and that gorgeous white woman. She so wanted to touch the woman, embrace her, kiss her all over and, in turn, be kissed. But when Li saw her look at Gwen he had scowled his disapproval. So she knelt and watched and hoped for another embrace.
Gwen remained standing, midway between the altar and the open grill. Li and Wong ignored her. Neither spoke. Their attention was on the grill as if what was warming was an expensive cut of meat. She wondered if that wasn't an apt turn of phrase. Question was who would be the meat? Li turned toward her, smiling, while Wong removed the pole from the flame. The flat disc glowed white in the center, red around the rim. As Li approached Gwen knew who the meat would be. What she wasn't sure of was her reaction. She still loved this lovely brute, would do anything, suffer any indignity to earn and keep his love. But, she didn't know if she was strong enough to suffer the brutality of the fire.
"Come, dear," Major Li whispered, mesmerized by the disc's glow. "Please." He escorted her to the table. Gwen let herself be led to the oblong shaped stone table, helped onto the cold cement, trussed hand and foot on her stomach. The cold gnawed at her belly and breasts. Her nipples pulsed and the stiffening was held back by the insurmountable force pressing against her. Her pubic patch crinkled dryly.
Wong was giggling like a drooling fool. Li chuckled; his voice shook.
"My precious," he began in a hushed litany. "I have loved you as no man has ever loved you. I have given you the force, the strength of my love until I can no longer express my love. Yet, you still desire love. And I have but one way to show my love." He stirred up the fire. Triangular shadows smote the walls and ceiling. The blaze crackled. Sparks flew. One cinder wavered onto her left buttock. It singed the flesh before sputtering out. She gasped. It was a needle barely pricking the flesh. It was quickly gone and she was left with a rapidly beating heart, and a steady pulse deep down in her gut.
"What are you going to do?" She trembled and the tremors sounded in her throat.
"Love you as only you can be loved."
Wong was laughing hysterically; the obscene noise clattered around the room, echoing and re-echoing.
Li lifted the pole. The flat end hissed when the cool, damp air touched it. Holding it in front of him he started toward the altar. Gwen watched him approach. Her heart quaked. She was coming. She couldn't help herself, couldn't control what was happening in her guts, couldn't put down the fear even as the desire swelled her clitoris, setting off the orgasms, a series of small bursts that surfaced, then died, only to be rekindled as the head of the firebrand drew near.
The girl sat on her haunches, watching fascinated at what was about to take place. Since being taken from her home, in a nearby village and brought here, she had witnessed and participated in many things, some pleasurable, many unpleasant. But this was the first time she had seen fire used. And it held for her a fascination like nothing she had ever felt before. She began touching her breasts, belly and, raising herself, fondled her buttocks, imagining the firebrand on her, touching her as she touched herself.
Wong followed his major, staying close but not too close in case the fire was turned on him.
Li reached the altar. "Are you ready, my dear?" His voice was soft, almost gentle.
"Kiss me first." she whimpered.
Holding the brand away from her sweating supple buttocks, Major Li bent to kiss the feverish, flushed face. Her body gave off a variety of aromas, of sweat, of fear, of need, of orgasm. The odors excited him, as much as the brandishing of this male symbol excited him. His cock lifted. The iron's heat tickled the prick hairs, burned the head, raised the surging in his balls into his shaft. He held the iron aloft. The fires caught the glint in her eyes, reflected the flames that scalded her soul.
It was just a kiss away, she told herself. The ultimate kiss. The kiss that would send her into a dizzying orgasm, a roller coaster into vast eternity or into the slimy bowels of hell itself. It was so close she smelled the burnished iron, felt the radiating vibrations. She could stick out her tongue and taste the fire, swallow its heat. The warmth, the power invaded her and ignited desires never before felt.
This was how it would end, how it had to end. The end of one life, the beginning of another. A life that threatened her sanity as she thought of it.
"My dear . . . my dear. . . . " Li held the pole over his head, pointed at her shoulder. He slowly moved the iron down, stopping at a supple buttock. "Flex it. Yes, that's better. You obey wonderfully. Tell me why."
"I love you," she squeaked.
"Yes, that would be your reason, my dear. I'm so glad I found you. So glad."
He straightened his arm. The iron was aimed at the tightened muscle. She shut her eyes, clenched her jaws.
"Iiiiieeee," he screamed, lunging.
The descending weapon whooshed as it slit the air. The heat intensified. She bit her lip, tensed, fighting the fear, the outcry that burned her lungs. Closer it came; the inferno threatened to consume her. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think as Li's screams filled the room.
Down it came, white hot, burning, violating the alabaster muscle of her butt. She tightened her jaw, drawing blood from her lip. The disc burned away layers of flesh.
She expected pain. But it wasn't pain she felt. Even as the stink of burned flesh rose thickly and the fist-like inferno spread from the scorched buttock another sensation flared. It spread rapidly, diminishing the discomfort. Pleasure was what it was. Not the mild pleasure of a lover's hand on her body. Not the ecstasy of a lover's kiss. This pleasure was everywhere at once, consuming fear, consuming frustration, consuming everything she had ever been taught. What remained was a truth so strong it jarred her mind. This truth, far from being a nebulous, antiseptic tenet, clutched at her loins, jerking the orgasm with such force she was left limp. She was floating away, lifting above all the petty frustrations of this life, to a higher form of existence. She seemed to leave this imperfect body, to take on a newer better form. She was going to a higher plain of life, not into the bowels of hell, after all.
She raised her head and saw, through a mist, her lover standing there, the iron still in his hand, his cock raised toward her. Just a kiss away, she thought, that was how close he was. And he was approaching. Her one regret was that he wouldn't accompany her on this journey.
His cock was painfully surging. He flung the iron to the floor where it clattered dully. Two strides and he was at the altar. She was fainting. He needed to have her feel this.
He climbed onto the altar and stood over her, legs straddling her hips. He jerked his prick. The jizz boiled and spattered the round wound. As the substance struck the seared flesh the wound hissed. He wondered if she felt it. No, she couldn't, she had already passed out. He posed over her, his cock dangling, dripping. He was still excited. He turned to Wong. The huskier man stood, fists jammed into hips, watching his superior. A sly smile crossed the captain's mouth.
"Which one shall we take?" Wong gestured over his shoulder to the corner where the child languished. "This one?"
"Yes, Wong. Her." And he pointed.
The child whimpered. All through this last episode she had watched, too terrified to move. It was like some kind of horrible dream. Her beautiful friend. Stretched out. trussed like a sacrificial animal. Then branded by that obscene, leering man. And now they were going to do the same thing to her. As Wong approached she crawled away, toward the door. Laughing, breathing hard. Wong let her take a few steps. Then he chased her. She ducked back, against the wall, and sliding along the wall, she covered a dozen feet. The stone cut her back and buttocks. She felt nothing. Fear galvanized her, gave her strength that she needed to reach the officer's neatly piled clothing, at the rear of the building. Wong chortled, watching the slim child struggle against the inevitable. She was truly pathetic, as were all weak insignificant people. Like a trapped mouse she railed against what was sure to happen. He played her like a fisherman plays his catch, giving a little slack of the line, then pulling it in, gradually drawing the hapless victim into the net. She was at the clothing, reaching for his belt. That was how she wanted it? Fine. Of course, she thought the belt would be a substitute for the iron. Well, let her think it. Already Li had the iron and was placing it into the squatty bowl-shaped grill. The smell of the flesh shards, clinging to the disc, filled the room when they touched the coals. The aroma was more exotic than the most succulent of meats. The perfume and the scent of fear that splashed from this child's body met and mingled somewhere above Wong's head. The combined aromas descended, penetrated his consciousness and filled him with a relaxed feeling. He felt lazy, not in any hurry to devour the prize, much the same as a man feels when he is about to tear into a steak and wants to savor the aroma, the experience.
She was a delicious, succulent prize. The base balled breasts with their scarlet aureoles and stubby nipples were so sweet to observe he tasted their fruit. The stomach was flat and rivers gushed from the curled center. The pudenda, with its thick black hair, was almost completely covered, as was the lower swell of the belly and upper parts of her thighs. He could still see a pale red crease that bisected the thick pelt. She was turning now, bending for the belt. The scratch of her nails on the heavy brass buckle was like rat's claws on concrete. That sound and the sight of her supple, solid buttocks further excited him. They were so perfect, so pale, so vulnerable. . . . An orifice so sensitive that it had to be violated. After the vulnerable protection was thoroughly used.
One arm, straight out, caught her as she clutched the belt. He pulled her away from the pile before she gold hold of the American made forty-five pistol. He hadn't seen what she reached for and that was a blessing. If he had he would've shoved her face into that flaming grill. For starters. As it was he would hurt her. It had to be. His major had used that lovely blonde. Now it was Wong's turn to use what was left.
He held her tight, his prick rubbing her buttocks. His hairy chest, smeared with sweat, crushed against her spine. His armpits, his mouth threw a stench as strong as the corpse-pile after an air raid.
She struggled, trying to slip from his slippery grasp. He laughed; the noise hurt her ears. He lifted her six inches off the ground and sunk his teeth into her shoulder, drawing blood. She cried out. He dropped her hard. The slimy cement jarred her feet; she felt the impact through her knees. He spun her around, facing him, and pulled her against him. His stiff prick was lost in her curled pubic patch. Again, he lifted her, spread his legs for support and bent his knees slightly. He lowered her onto his cock. As the rigid flesh penetrated, scalding her insides, she tossed her head back and with eyes closed she parted her lips and wailed. He forced her down, imbedding his muscle to the shaft's base, to his balls. The enlarged testicles were smothered by the lower slope of her ass. He lifted and lowered her, his fingers digging into the tiny fat folds around her hips. Baby fat, he mused. He kept pushing her up, then down, until she felt the rhythm and initiated the stepped up pace, matching the thrill he was experiencing with her own. He plunged into those sweet young depths, burning her insides with his climax. She worked her pelvis rapidly, wrenching free her own orgasm. Then, as abruptly as he had taken her. he threw her away. Lifting her so her knees were level with his nipples, he tossed her toward the wall. Like a cat she worked for her own preservation. Hands open, she struck the wall but her palms took the force of impact. Knees bent, she broke the fall as she went straight down. Arms stretched backward she again struck the wall and, again, her palms absorbed the impact. She pushed away from the wall to keep from striking the back of her head. She fell forward and before she hit the floor she flung her arms out in front of her. She fell on her hands, skinning the heels. One knee cracked against the stone. A sudden pain burst and then that passed. She lay, panting, her sweat stinging her eyes. The cold bit her tits and hips, which also had been skinned. Sweat gushed into the cuts, burning, keeping her from passing out from the shock. Her head still worked. She still planned even as Wong strode to her, belt in hand, buckle locked in his fist. As he brought the belt down on her buttocks, cutting flesh, the buckle dug his palm, causing some pain. As he snapped the belt back, after raising a welt across the perfect spheres, he flipped the belt, catching it by the opposite end.
She wasn't responding. She was conscious. He heard her gasping sobs. She was awake all right but the little bitch was playing coy, not showing emotion. So why not use the buckle on her? Feeling the buckle's bite would elicit a response. And, anyway, it was better she should feel the force of the buckle instead of him. He inspected the tiny palm cut before swinging the belt over his head. The awesome weapon rent the air, a Banshee's wail followed the descending arc. The sound belonged to him. She remained impassive. Arms down at her sides, back and buttocks rigid, toes drawn out, like the cast of death. The belt came down on the right buttock. The flesh wiggled, blood from a dozen tiny right angled cuts, spewed. Like an infant pissing.
She shuddered, whimpered, shoved a hand into her mouth to stifle the outcries. If he was going to make her cry then the bastard was going to have to work for it. Her thoughts were working in another direction, placing locations, measuring distances, locating what she would need.
"Bitch, let me hear you sing," Wong shrieked, his voice trebling like a hysterical woman.
Again and again he smote those helpless quivering cheeks. More cuts, welts, bruises and still nothing more than a whimper.
"I'll make you feel, he grunted, chest heaving. He flung the belt away. His arm ached from wrist to shoulder. His nuts throbbed. He had to come but he wouldn't be able to, not until she submitted, bellowing her agony. Then he could fling himself onto her back, plunging his weapon into her yielding rear hole. And that image formed another image. Like he had wanted to do all along. That's what he would do now. He would show her what a man could do to an unwilling helpless bitch. He would show her and she would never forget the lesson.
He reached his clothes. There, tucked under his jacket, was a set of knives, identical to the set Li displayed on his girdle. He drew a long, narrow stiletto. An inch wide, six inches long with an ivory tapered handle bound in gold. The handle slid in his sweating grip. He tightened his fist. The palm-cut, mingling with the sweat, made holding the knife difficult. He wiped his hand on the jacket then took the weapon again and turned to the helpless child. She was prostrate as before, rivulets of blood dripping between the tense hind cheeks, turning the dark narrow crease even darker.
He reached her, squatted, his big prick scraping the floor. The spongy tip brushed the jagged stones and he winced. He pressed a hand on her lower spine, above the buttocks. She slowly turned her head. She was bleary-eyed, pale, in shock, he thought. Too bad. He wanted her to see this coming, wanted her to feel the sting before it reached her, wanted her to feel the mindless blade driving through that tiny crease, burrowing between the vulnerable butt muscles, tearing the hole and penetrating deeper, still deeper until she cried out, admitted her vulnerability, admitted defeat, screamed for forgiveness for whatever nameless petty crimes she might have committed against family, country, diety, begged for mercy. Yes, he wanted her to be awake, to experience all of this, or else it would be no good for him.
He grabbed her long hair, twisted until he could twist no more, until her head was pulled away from him, and she was on her side, gaping at his clenched face. The tears boiled, her lower lip trembled, spasms racked her cheeks, her throat, her Adam's apple bobbed, her shoulders shook and the breasts danced.
She was exquisite. Helpless, vulnerable as only a defenseless child can be. Oh, my, my, but she was ravishing. Wong couldn't use the dagger just yet. He had to make her taste him again. He lay the stiletto beside his foot and, swinging his leg around, straddled her head, his big toes lost in temple hair. Her eyes were wide, unblinking. She was transfixed by the enormous wedge that was lowering toward her mouth.
Wong squatted and forced her mouth open. "You will drink of this, swallow it all." She gagged as pre-come dripped over her lower lip and spilled between her bottom teeth. "Yes, child, gag, struggle." She twisted her head, side to side, groaning through her nose, the nostrils flaring, saliva bubbling over her slack lips. "That's it, that's it," he babbled, wide eyed, transfixed. "That's exactly what I want, what I need, yes, oh, yes, my little girl, my frail child, oh, yes, now you drink, take it, take it now." His voice skittered. He raised his buttocks slightly to position the cock to her mouth. As the head touched her lips she clenched her jaws. The soft lips, slapping his sensitive head, made him gurgle. Sweat blinded him, spasms threatened to topple him. He squeezed her mouth open. "You bite me and I will slit your throat." He glanced at his foot where the stiletto was. The knife was gone. A flash of silver, enhanced by the stirring coals across the room, registered through the corner of one eye. Before the sight made contact with the brain, before he knew what the flash belonged to, it was too late. An instant's awareness as the blade's tip touched his scrotum. "Eeeee, eeeee." The outcry was instinctive. His mind couldn't grasp what was happening. The blade drove through the sack, severing veins, arteries, cutting the balls, separating them, continuing on into the base of the shaft, tearing the muscle in half as she jerked the knife toward her head, away from him, ripping the muscle in jagged segments, severing the head. Blood gushed, bits of fiber scattered. The brute's howls rebounded off the walls. Li was rigid, shaken from some reverie. Gwen stirred. Wong waved his arms; his voice became an eunuch's treble, devoid of masculine attribute. He flung his arms wide, toppling backward, stumbling over her ankles. She drew her knees up fast, bumping the bloodied stump, flinging blood gouts over her face, her tits, her belly and cunt. He tried to scream as he fell on his back. Blood choked his throat. He writhed, knees kicking, legs jerking, hands lunging for the stump, fingers rigid with fear, unable to grasp what was left. She savored all this, unmindful of the man bearing down on her. The brute was nearly finished. He was getting what he had given. His screams came through the gore that clotted in his neck. He was still feeling but, she was aware of the major; he was ten feet away, moving cautiously now. He saw the knife in her hand and wasn't close enough to knock it away with the branding iron. And she crouched between the major and his clothes, and pistols.
She still had the knife. Captain Wong still kicked, and gagged, his eyes rolled, the white showed but he was still conscious. Still able to feel some of what he had tried to inflict on her. If she was going to die then let her take the brute with her.
Like a lithe avenger she bounded on the balls of her feet and lunged for Wong. Falling near one arm she grasped the wrist and tightly held the blade. She found superhuman strength and, with a sudden shift of her weight, turned the brute on his side, facing the major. Eyes flashing defiance and hate she hurled a curse at Li before plunging the stiletto between the brute's ass cheeks. He yelped, retched, vomited blood, his diaphragm kicking. She turned the blade deep, tearing the hole, piercing the prostate. Pulling the knife, and part of his entrails, out, she brandished the weapon at Li.
"Ypu have raped our people, as we shall rape you in your beds," she screamed, turned the brute onto his back, jammed the feces and blood crusted edge along the brute's throat. The blade sliced through the vomit and spittle, and knotted throat muscles . . . tore back and forth, sawing the jugular and the small bones and cartilage and veins. She jerked the blade free; the handle slipped. She regained the hold. But in that instant Li flung the iron at her. The disc struck her shoulder, burning, throwing her off balance. She slid back, slipped on the gouts, fell on her back, the warm blood splashing and entering her anus and cunt.
Li was on her, his hands finding her throat. The thumbs bore down, slowly but steadily choking. Black whorls obscured her vision. The breath burned. Something hot was penetrating. Dimly she saw Li burying his shaft in her belly even as he strangled the life out of her. She had to laugh. The brute, the animal was still, less than a foot away, his blood everywhere, oozing over her, and the major. And still the major had to rape. Whatever guilt she might have felt, left. For brute force was the only way her people had of freeing themselves. As that thought registered, penetrated her consciousness, a cloud of peace descended, wrapped warm arms around her tortured, ravaged, blood spattered flesh, and gently lifted her, as a loving mother lifts a suffering child, and carried her away.
TEN
Li pummeled the girl. She was nearly dead. One last lunge to get his rocks off before she died. The blood was a warm blanket between him and her, enveloping them both, making her hot belly even hotter.
He plunged away, stopping finally when he realized her belly was cold and her vagina was tightening. She felt like an ice fist on his genitals. As he withdrew he saw the remains beside them. In death Wong looked like a shrunken monkey. How could Li ever have found the man attractive?
Li got up, slipped on red pockets of blood, congealing on the cement. The iron was nearby. The shaft and tip were soaked. He shook off the still wet pods and, at the grill, angrily flung the pole in, disc first. It hissed and stank but the aroma was only a distant background to the inferno in Li's head.
Wong was his most trusted aide. More than an aide and better than a third arm. Lover and fellow planner. It was Wong's knowledge of architecture that resulted in this perfectly constructed community. Wong's inventive imagination thought up this room with these few pleasure devises. Had he lived Wong might have constructed even more ingenious pleasure items. Now Wong was dead. Without him Li was only a lack luster image of his former self.
The only thing Li was capable of dreaming up was the end results: the woman, sufficiently cowed to give Li maximum satisfaction. But how to get her there? Li didn't have sufficient imagination to think it all through.
Wong had discussed, with Li, the subordinate: Kang. According to Wong, Kang was a bright young man with similar interests. Wong was even going to bring Kang to these little parties, and would have if the war hadn't interfered. Maybe Kang was even more intelligent, more receptive than Wong had thought. As Li stirred the coals he made a mental note to broach the subject. After Wong's funeral, of course.
He stirred the coals, lost in thought. He didn't hear the door open. Didn't see the shadow until it fell across his chest. He looked up, eyebrows raised.
"Oh, Kang." He smiled, shivered as the cold air rushed in.
Kang surveyed the blood spattered room with shock.
"Yes, my friend. This has been some party." Major Li gave a little laugh of embarrassment.
"Where. . . . " He saw the altar, and the unconscious woman. "Have you killed her?" he said through clenched teeth.
"No. I don't think so. She's pretty strong. There should be plenty for you."
Kang's head pounded. As he turned his head, to see what was there before him, his neck and skull ached. He felt dizzy from the blow on the head. And nauseated from this carnage. What was terrifying, but not surprising, was Li's lackadaisical attitude. The major turned to the fire at his feet, absentmindedly turned the pole around in the coal, scattering ash, and sparks that flew toward the ceiling, throwing fire bursts across the rear wall.
"Untie her, Li."
Li glanced up, sharply. He scowled-a man disturbed during a pleasant dream. "What is this?"
"It's called a Magnum three-fifty-seven. But then T don't have to teach you weaponry."
"Insubordination, Kang?" Major Li relinquished his hold on the iron. "And for what? The woman?" He smiled cunningly. "Me? Do you want me, Kang?" He opened both palms and extended them in a gesture of submission, covering his disgust in a simpering grin. "If I'm what you want, my dear Kang, then say so? And come to me."
The pain in his head was sending shock-waves into his chest and guts. If Kang didn't get what he'd come for, and then get out quick, he'd succumb to the nausea and dizziness.
"I want you, all right, butcher. I want you to untie her and help her to the door. Then you and I will get her out of this fortress, away from your friends and into the hills."
"Where a partisan band waits?"
"American Rangers."
"Is that really it, Kang?"
"That's exactly it, butcher."
Li shook his head, grinning obscenely. "My own hand-picked officers. Picked by Wong. Well, it seems the dear captain wasn't infallible after all. Tell me, Kang, how many more deluded Wong? Just how rotten is this perfect vessel I've created?"
Kang watched the enemy. Li was perfectly poised. In control. Like a panther about to strike, sure of himself. Kang's first impulse was to kill this butcher. But his orders were to capture Li, get him out of Hamhung and into the hills. Unless Li made an escape attempt or tried to kill Kang, the American agent had no recourse but to keep Li alive. Kang couldn't take the initiative; he couldn't shoot first. No one, beside himself, would know. But that was it: Kang would know. He couldn't, in good conscience, betray the Americans for they were the salvation of his people, of all Southeast Asia. Kang wouldn't betray them. But if Li made any threatening moves, then Kang would take him out.
Li shrugged. "Your hand doesn't appear to be weakening; that weapon doesn't look like it's going to fall from your fist."
"It isn't."
"Then I have no choice."
"None."
"May I put on my clothes."
"You may not."
"I'm sure your control wouldn't want frozen meat."
"As long as your tongue isn't frozen, they don't care. Now get moving."
Gwen was dead weight. The first mile was tortuous. Kang supported her while Li, hands tied behind his back with the belt, marched a few feet ahead. The snow was falling. The wind kicked small drifts over their feet. The girl was dressed in her dress and shoes but it was not enough. She might still catch pneumonia and Kang didn't want that. She might die, so many had that it would be just another little death in the night. But he prayed she wouldn't.
Kang prayed the treatment inflicted on her back there would bring her to her senses. If it didn't the cold air might.
Li's drug shouldn't take too long to get out of her system, depending on how much she had ingested in that slaughterhouse. But what would she be like afterward? Would her mind be gone?
He tightened his grip on the Magnum. Major Li was more important than Gwen, than the black girl he had helped them kill.
Li stumbled, fell on his face. "Please,' 'he begged. "I can't continue."
Kang kicked him over on his side, facing Kang. "Up."
Spittle glazed Kang's blue lips. Hate burned, turning his face into a pale mask, a Halloween shell with two flames illuminating the shell.
Li got up, stumbling once, and continued.
They were passing through a forest. On the other side, a distance of five miles, was the base of the mountain. Dawn was fast approaching. In another hour they would see the mountain's tip. The moon passed in front of a cluster of clouds, picking up the glow of the snow capped peaks.
They were so close. But with the weight of the American nurse holding him back, Kang wasn't sure he'd have the stamina to carry his prisoner to the allies.
He had to. He wasn't going to leave her now.
"Keep going, bastard," he shouted at Li, as the major slowed.
Kang's voice echoed. His throat ached.
ELEVEN
About daybreak Gwen awoke. For a moment she didn't know where she was. She remembered the branding, her reaction, and what she felt then was revulsion. How could she have been so affected, felt such pleasure at the brutality?
She still felt love for Li, still wanted to please him. Even so, her love wasn't as strong and that surprised her.
She raised her head. Snow. Trees. A terrible cold. And there was Li, naked, strapped to a tree.
What was this? More of the dream? He saw her awaken and called to her and as she sat up, rubbing sleep residues from her eyes, she knew this was no dream.
"He has gone for help," Li babbled. "You must hurry. Free me. Hurry," he pleaded in a louder, firmer voice.
She got up, aching all over. Kang's jacket had been placed beneath her and she shook the snow off and stumbled to the tree. "What's happened, Li?" ' "Never mind. Untie me."
"Kang did this?" she mumbled, still half awake, her thoughts still cloudy.
"He won't be gone long, long enough to bring our enemies. Your people who will kill you for committing treason. They aren't far away. He left us. thinking you would remain unconscious until his return. This is providence, your awakening. We must make the most of it, my love. Hurry."
She fumbled with the bonds, her fingers numb, the tips not feeling the carefully, securely tied knots. He urged her on, cursing when she slowed, whispering love when one knot fell away.
Finally, his hands were free. "Give me the coat." She draped it across his shoulders. He undid the bonds that held his ankles to the tree.
He fell into her arms, exhausted. She held him, eased him to the snow. She held him close, felt the slamming of his heart. He was frozen: that brute, Kang, had left Li to die. She wouldn't let that happen.
While Li protested feebly, she raised her skirt, pressed her naked warmth against him. And, sure enough, his prick stiffened. She parted her lips and guided him in. She clung to him, raising just her hips, bringing him closer, whipping side to side to bring him to a quick orgasm. As he lay, spent, at her side, she whispered her love, over and over. The words fell, without the force of previous couplings. Yet she still loved him. But it was like the lights of a car, moving away, becoming lost in a fog.
"If you do love me," he whispered. "Then you will do what I command."
"Yes." Hope soared. He wanted her again, was going to initiate her into the secret world that he controlled, teach her more of what she had to learn to join him on that secret summit.
"Take off your clothes."
"Yes," she squealed. He was going to take her, right here in the snow and it was going to be more exciting than that first time with Wong, and Vicki. With danger so close he would take her, quiet her excitement. Yes, he truly loved her.
She was naked now, her buttocks stinging as the snow settled between both creases. She flung her arms and legs wide, to take him. He fell on her belly and, as she embraced him, he pressed a nerve at the base of her skull. Lights exploded, the world tilted crazily. She slithered off the edge.
When Li was sure she was unconscious he quickly dressed in her clothes. Buttoning the jacket tight he fled through the forest. As he ran and slipped, he searched for cigarettes in the jacket pocket and cursed when he came up empty handed.
Kang and the Americans found her, unconscious. A gurney was brought up and she was wrapped in a blanket and carried back toward the mountains. The American Ranger, six-four, two-twenty, with burnished skin and unsmiling blue eyes, took up the rear, with Kang.
"Where's the bastard, Kang?"
"I left him tied. She was unconscious. I figured she would remain out for the few minutes it took me to get you."
"Obviously he didn't."
"We could still catch him."
"If we knew his direction."
The snow was drifting, covering their tracks.
"Probably back to Hamhung," Kang said.
"Maybe. I've got a squad taking that direction."
"I'd like to be with them when he's caught."
"I need you here."
"For her."
"Yes."
"I think she'll be all right. Just remember she was drugged, forced to do whatever he wanted."
"The drug is the reason I want you close to her. I don't have a doctor; he was killed yesterday getting here. I don't know what this drug will do, what it's already done to her. You stick close to her, record her reactions and when she comes down, you be there, to help her. We have to know if Li confided in her, gave her any information that we can use."
"Yes, sir."
They were at the base of the mountain. A long climb, nearly straight up, but beyond was freedom, a chance to relax, recoup his strength. Kang looked forward to that.
A day later she came out of it. She was in a tent, on a cot. A space heater worked. The blankets were warm. Asleep in a fold-out deck chair was a familiar face.
"Kang?"
He awoke with a start. Smiling, licking dry lips, he said: "The sleeping beauty awakes."
"Half way, at least." She yawned, stretched and kicked, and turned on her side to face him, bracing a hand under her chin. "Where is.
"Escaped. In your clothing."
She let that sink in. Ambivalence knotted her. He duped her. made her undress, tried to kill her, deserted her. But. still, that love remained.
"I'm so tired."
"Of course you are," he said. "You sleep and when you awaken, and have had something to eat. we will talk."
"Where are we?"
"Safe. Considering."
"Who are we with?"
"The allies."
"They know about me?"
"They know you were captured, drugged and made to do certain things. They won't ever know what he forced you into. Since you didn't make any treasonous acts, like broadcasting for the enemy, I'm certain they won't question you too explicitly. They want to know if Li confided in you, gave up any secrets that I might not have picked up. After they question you about that you will be smuggled back behind the lines, to safety."
"Oh, yes, that sounds so good." There was still a note of indecision in her voice.
"You're not worried?"
"Not worried exactly. . . . "
"He still has you, hasn't he?"
"I'm afraid he has."
"The shark's teeth aren't so easily pulled; the jaws don't unlock so easily."
"I guess not."
"It will take time."
"I guess it will."
Kang knew it would. The only way to free her was the harsh brutal way, a final brutality to shake her free of the animal. Using some of Li's tricks Kang would awaken her, bring her back. But, for now, she needed sleep. After the interrogation Kang would have his chance.
TWELVE
The Americans were in a hurry. They gave her twenty-four hours to recover. Then it was non-stop interrogation, a soft sell affair, conducted by a Captain who was slim, middle-aged, balding and meek. He began with an informal rundown of her past . . . school, grades, likes, dislikes, areas of the country she preferred over Nebraska, her home state. She knew what was happening, and who the man was.
"I took eighteen hours of college level psychology, doctor. I know why you're probing, what you're looking for. So I'll save some time. He fed me drugs in brandy, talked me into doing a number of thing I would never have done sober."
"What things?" The interest was as obvious as his hard on.
"All kind of things. Kinky things, mostly. Leather things."
' "You derive any pleasure from these things?"
"I've always enjoyed being educated."
"And disciplined. Did you enjoy that?"
"I don't know." She knew. But she wasn't going to admit it to this stranger.
"I see. Well, possibly we'll find out."
The questioning continued in a relaxed way, but without let up. Coffee and sandwiches were brought in. When the doctor finally broke the session it was night.
"Will you need me for anything else?" She stood, plucking a thread from the dress's bodice.
"No more questioning. Not tonight." He took her hand.
She didn't pull away. "We should do something tonight. To celebrate my first night of freedom." She said it simply, in a straight forward way. It came out sounding like an invitation. Which the officer accepted.
As she accepted the paper cup of brandy she didn't think about Kang. Not until she and the doctor began talking.
"That young man that rescued you is brave. Do you realize what he went through rescuing you?"
"Yes, I know."
"How do you feel about him?"
"Is this for my file, or your personal information?"
"My mind's already made up. What I need is more information to substantiate my decision."
"You talk like a textbook, honey. Is that how you fuck? By the book?"
The question shocked her as much as it mildly surprised him.
"Sorry about that," she murmured, taking a sip of brandy. In a paper cup it tasted bland, artificial.
"It's been a long time since you've taken the initiative with men."
"Yes. But how did you know that?"
"Through Kang. Through past information. He hasn't said anything to us about what Li did to you. Of course, from what we already know, we can guess what he forced you to do."
"Listen, doc, don't let an over eager imagination brand the scarlet letter on my tit." She threw the empty cup across the tent. It sailed, then dropped, before it reached the seated man.
"I'm not over eager about anything. Except. . . . " He let it hang there like exhaled smoke in a stuffy room.
"Okay, doctor. Do I fill in the missing words in twenty-five or less. Or do you tell me what gets your motor running?
"You do. That simple." He finished his drink. "But I won't push. If you're interested, feel up to some company. . . . " He gave an open kind of shrug. "This tent is warmer, closer to the crapper."
"That's something," she sniffed. "Where's all the romance gone to?" she asked a darkened corner.
"Is that what you crave? Romance."
"Romance is an umbrella that covers a lot of ground."
"What do you mean?"
"My definition of romance might differ from yours. Like. . . . " She kicked her chair back, quickly undid the buttons of her dress. Shrug-ing the garment off, she reached around and unsnapped the bra. The huge solid breasts sighed as the tight garment fell, freeing the big tits. Goosebumps exploded and, as the doctor sucked in his breath, the nipple flicked out, the aureoles blushed deeply. "See, doc," she said, walking slowly toward him, "this is my kind of romance. Getting your saliva flowing kinda turns me on, too. I like making the moves. Not making them was the only thing I missed about the last couple of days. I also missed my country, too," she added quickly. She stopped at his feet. He didn't move. His cock rose shamelessly. He didn't try to cover the erection. "Getting a nice old guy like yourself all interested makes me feel good. Also, giving you something you might be missing makes the selfless desire that got me into nursing come alive again. You know, locked up in Hamhung was not the most stimulating couple of days I ever spent."
"Is that right?"
"Sure, hon." She came around beside him. She wondered, as she stroked his bald spot with the tip of her index finger, if he was believing any of this. She had to make him believe. If he didn't she'd be shipped home and probably made to spend time with more interrogators. Her plans didn't include going home just yet. Not while Li was still twisting in her guts, getting that damn little thing all steamy.
He turned to take one of her breasts. She pushed him away.
"No, hon, not just yet. Let me make the moves. Okay?" she chirped. He didn't answer; he was busy swallowing the brandy and homesick induced lust. "All you have to do, doc, is lean back and let me take you on. Might be fun if you don't let that old male ego-crap take over. T never could understand why the hell you men always insisted on leading." She was talking rapidly, unzipping his fly and unbuckling his belt at the same time. She was using the doctor, auditioning the act, so to speak. One run-through and then she played the Palace . . . the Hamhung Palace. "My, my," she breathed as she got his pants down around his ankles, and her hand under the elastic of his jockey shorts. "Nice flat hard stomach . . . mmmm . . . lots of hair. I bet that isn't all that you got a lot of." He wasn't saying anything. He held back the tremors, the sobs. Christ, it had been a long time since he'd had an American piece, and a white one at that. She slid both hands, flat, under the elastic and eased the pants down, rubbing the hipbones, stroking below the belly with her thumbs. The doc was quivering and breathing hard, and that wasn't all that was hard. That long thin snake slithered, stiffened and stood up proud. The sunburst at the tip gave off enough heat to light a cigarette by. Too bad, she thought. It would've been nicer if she'd been able to play him along, see how far she could work him before he blew off. Now, the way he was twisting, sobbing, she'd have to get his gun. Only one way to do that and that was to pull the trigger. "Momma loves lollipops," she cooed, on her knees between his legs, her breasts hanging down, the nipples scraping the hard ground. She dropped her mouth on the shaft, holding him by the lips, while she tongue-lashed the tip. He was going wild, nearly knocking her off balance. And he was faster than a horny rabbit at a doe convention. The force of the blast hit her so hard at the back of the throat she lost her breath. Her hot pumping breath polished him off. As he went soft, and she let what was left slip between her lips, she tried to figure how long it had taken Li to blow off. For she had to have him again, even if this was the last time for them. One last orgy before the allies got him. She even considered staying with him even after the allied invasion. "Who were you thinking of?" He pulled up his pants. The few hairs on his legs stood out, covering some of the goose bumps.
"You, of course." She picked up her bra, considered putting it on, then figuring the hell with it.
"Me, of course not. Now tell me."
"Another order from the front." She looked around for the bottle. "Okay. I was thinking of some guy I used to shack up with. Back home. Hurt?"
"No." He poured a drink and handed her the bottle.
"Thanks." She filled a fresh cup and set the bottle by her foot.
He waited for her to finish, and he thought: Li had done a thorough job on her; she still loved him. Obviously it wasn't some boy back home that she was thinking about. According to a quick check via the computer in Washington, she'd always been a loner, a one night stand. There never were any shack jobs back home. The only shacking was with Li. He wondered if Li had known about her, too, somehow. Or if his finding her was a lucky break. Lucky for them they'd found her before I this dedicated kid got twisted into a robot. Another couple of months and she would've been Li's walking time bomb.
"Well, dad, thanks for the drink." The empty, crumpled cup fell to the floor, pinged off the side of the brandy bottle.
"The invitation stands."
"My bed's okay. And I never use the John at night. So good night." She exited, leaving the captain with his assessments. How close was she to kickingLi? How much longer was it going to take to get that damn drug out of her system? How many POW's had been fed that same drug, had their thinking twisted, been turned into willing pawns? The possibilities were frightening. How long would it take? What action would be needed to shock her back to sanity?
Young Kang was the closest to the Li camp. He might have some ideas.
The doctor quickly finished the drink and took bottle and glasses outside, down the row of tents to an end tent, dark now. Kang's tent.
She was dreaming of that leering, big stick . . . Li. He beckoned but she didn't know where he was, couldn't pierce the mists that surrounded him, exposing only his face and groin. She reached, stumbled, fell . . . down through a dark abyss to a stone altar. On the altar was something red, moving.
It was slimy, it reeked obscenely, it wiggled obscenely like some kind of beckoning seducing demon. As she fell, faster, she saw what it was . . . it was herself, horribly twisted, gutted, yet still alive, still feeling passion, trying to seduce anything that dropped into her trap.
She awoke, screaming. Screaming into a sweating palm. More hands tore at her body. The blankets were thrown aside, she was lifted, struggling, out of the tent. The cold stung her naked flesh. This was part of the nightmare. It had to be. The smell of the bodies surrounding her, bitter, masculine robust; the cloudy night: the dark black shadows that bore her off the makeshift road, down an embankment, through tightly clustered trees, the snow crunching beneath them, and onto a broad ledge that was suspended over a dizzying drop, to more snow and trees. She caught a glimpse of the view before she was taken into a cave. Lanterns lit a path through the narrow opening and into a wider rough stone cavern. Four lanterns gave off dim light, not enough to cover the entire room, only enough to show six hooded figures, and what appeared to be four evenly spaced iron spikes. The spikes were placed two top and two bottom, six feet top to bottom, in the corner wall. Dangling from each spike was a two inch length of chain and attached to that, heavy iron cuffs. She was dragged to the wall, turned so she faced the cave entrance, and shoved against the wall, the sharp stones gouging her back. One jagged edge wedged between her cheeks. She tightened up, automatically moving back, taking the edge into her anus, wiggling her pelvis, rubbing the sharpness against the sensitive opening. That old thrill again, she thought, even as the lights dimmed and frightening shadows enveloped her. With Li she had been secure somehow, warm in his love. These hooded figures were cold like the cave and these stones; they didn't react to her shivering ripe body. They stood there, on either side of her, arms folded, breathing evenly, not speaking. They were impassive, not impressed. It was as though her body was but a small part of some larger tableau . . . a tableau that she would be an integral part of. Something she was afraid to consider. She wanted Li now, to protect her, make love to her, keep these demons from harming her.
A cold wind rose, stirring the hoods, rattling the chains. Heavy breathing and heavy footfalls approached. A shadow covered the entrance. The demons moved aside. A large, shaggy "something" was coming into the cave, coming toward her. It moved purposefully, yet slowly. Like it had all the time in the world. She found herself dragging on the chains, whimpering.
What was it? Why was she being held here?
She would never see Li again; she knew that now. That thought swelled and she yanked on her bonds, bleating pitifully.
The shaggy haired being was close now and a lantern was turned up. It was a man, young possibly, with a great mane of yellowish brown hair that covered his broad shoulders with knotted foul curls. A thick beard streamed to his rib cage. What was visible was his cheekbones, which were high and knife-slashed, and his eyes. They glimmered. Slitted. Timber wolf's eyes, shinning yellow with tiny black irises. He was naked and his arms and legs were matted. He was more animal than man, a slavering, giggling animal. The erection was stumpy, covered with sores that oozed puss. The stench made her gag.
He reached, to touch a breast. His fingers were long nailed, dirt crusted. He closed a fist on the supple muscle, the nails pinched the tip. She screamed not from pain but from fear. He roared, eyes wide, spit flailing her face, broken yellowed teeth bared. He pulled her breasts, slapped her belly and thighs reached behind her to test her buttocks, roaring his pleasure as he balanced each muscle. It was then that she knew what he wanted: not to screw her, to eat her.
A fire erupted in the middle of the cavern, the smoke escaped through a ceiling aperture. A single iron bar, supported by wheels at either end, was dragged into the center of the room and placed over the fire, to warm.
She wailed as this evil thing forced her legs apart. The stone turned in her rear. The pain kept her from fainting. He had a stone wedge, sharp along one edge. A knife. And he was rubbing that edge along one of her thighs. He grabbed a fistful of pubic hair, pulled and the love slick dribbled. The odor heightened his excitement. He started to shave the hair, stopped, threw the knife aside, kneed her legs wider and thrust himself up and into her cunt.
It burned. Oh, Jesus, how it burned. Deeper up into her belly and he kept drilling, making her dizzy. The rock at her rear gouged, as penetrating as the frontal assault.
He flattened himself against her. She smelled his stink, tasted his hair, retched, her belly and breasts heaving, as he ejaculated and even the come had a foulness, like the stench of a rotting forest. He pulled back, swinging his arms, yelling some obscene curse, flinging spit.
The iron was glowing, red and white edged. They came for her, holding her tightly as they undid the chains. They dragged her, screaming, to the fire. The heat singed her knees and pubic bush. Li was forever gone. She would never see him again. Then, she became faint. What she was thinking overwhelmed her, diminishing slightly the fear. As the truth surged she retched, vomited, passed out.
She came awake, a little at a time, expecting agony, feeling only a mild warmth. She opened her eyes. She was back in her tent. Kang and the doctor stood over her, concerned.
"The only difference between Li and us," the doctor was saying to her, "is this: we know what our drugs will do."
She must have been awake for a short while, listening to their conversation, without comprehending what had been said. "I don't understand." Her throat was dry; her lips cracked.
"What you just suffered through was induced by a drug, and by coaching."
"You mean I wasn't . . . "
"You were right here in your bed."
She was numb. "Why, for crissake?"
"Shock."
"It did."
"Did it push you through this . . . for want of a better word: this spell that Li has you under?"
"It should. One big push to shock you back to reality."
Kang turned as the doctor spoke, and left the tent.
Gwen lay back. She remembered her last thought before fainting. It came back, full force, and she leaned over the side of the cot, and vomited. The doctor made no attempt to help her. He waited until she was finished.
He started talking but she wasn't listening and pretty soon he got up and went out into the night. She was alone again. Alone with that realization. It glowed like an inferno, consuming her with rage.
Li had used her, worse than a man uses a whore. When she felt love he felt . . . how could she know. Hate, most likely. And it wasn't that he had shown her a new terrible way, a new world almost. That part was fine. The kicks had never been greater. She owed him thanks for that.
What turned the blade in her belly was that Li had used her just like the others had used her, all the boys and men she'd ever known, trusted, loved. Li had drugged her, tricked her into thinking he loved her. And, of course, all he'd loved was her resiliency, her ability to take punishment. And if she survived she'd make a great tool, either for propaganda purpose or as an agent.
The betrayal was terrible, ugly. The defeat left her numb, made her sick to her stomach again.
She got up to wash her face in the portable basin. She got a good look at herself in the small mirror. Her eyes were swollen, puffy around the edges. Her face was pale. Her hair fell haphazardly across her forehead.
She looked like she felt. She tried for a smile but it wouldn't come. She got back in bed, prayed for sleep. That wouldn't come, either.
She lay for a half hour. Kang came back.
"Want company?"
"I guess," she whispered.
He climbed in and took her in his arms. They lay like that, loose, not sexing. Toward dawn he moved on top, eased into her and took her gently. She lay, passive, not responding. When he was done she pushed him away.
"Gwen, we have a deal for you," he said before he pulled back the tent flap, letting in the sunlight.
THIRTEEN
The deal cooked like shit in the sun, and smelled as bad. After they had laid it out for her she had been noncommittal. First chance she got she got out of there.
Kang had used her, too. Pushing steadily down the slope, to the forest below, she reprimanded herself for ever letting his betrayal bother her. After all, Kang was a man and what was worse, he was a man dedicated to an ideological cause. If he had been as dedicated about sexing, especially the kind of belly bouncing she'd grown accustomed to, she wouldn't have minded the political idealism. But he was just so-so in the sack; that is, he knew the moves but he executed them without dedication.
Strong on the soapbox, weak in the bedroom. She'd heard that about most fanatics, politicians. The two were synonymous.
If Kang had been better in the sack she might've stayed; done what they had wanted.
The deal was: get back in Li's bed and while he was asleep spring the latch on the door, and maybe play games with the sole midnight to dawn guard. They would do the rest.
The deal smelled. To be used again sickened her. The way men were, the men she knew and had known, that is, was a sin against nature. Using their force to force a woman down on her knees. And they all enjoyed doing it; it made them feel like men.
Shit, but she was disgusted with them all. Even Li. But she would return to Li, for he was the only man with the strength to make her dance. Even if it was forcing, she still loved doing it. Somehow, with him, the degradation wasn't as intense. Even as she thought of him, of being near him again, the juices began to flow. Her pace increased. Her footing was more secure as she plunged down to the mountain's base, and entered the forest.
It was dark when she reached Hamhung. The sentry stopped her, recognized her and took her to Li. He was in bed, his pajamas and robe buttoned and belted to his throat. He was coughing when she entered the bedroom. Seeing her made him cough harder, great racking spasms that left him sweating and red faced.
"A gift from your friend, Kang," he gasped between spasms.
"He's not my friend. Not that he didn't want to be." Timidly, she approached the bed, a step at a time, measuring his reactions.
He seemed preoccupied with his health. But when she reached the foot of the bed he stopped her with a scowl. "That's as far as you come."
"I'm here. May I explain?" She sat.
"I know it all." He blew his nose.
"Do you know that I was unconscious when Kang dragged me out of that room?"
"I was there."
"Then you know how willing I was. Then know this, too: as soon as I could I got the hell out of there."
"So I see."
"I wish you'd feel . . . "
"What?"
"What I feel for you."
She said it with such feeling, such melodrama, that he laughed, then succumbed to another round of coughing.
"Here. I brought you a gift, a peace offering." She handed him the bottle. "Not as good as your stuff but it's suitable."
He uncorked it. "Suitable for what? Toasting the corpse at a funeral?" He continued to scowl at the label.
"It's okay stuff." She found two glasses on the night stand. "Okay?" She poured two shots for each.
He took the glass without answering. They had their drink, in silence.
"Not too bad," he said, setting his emptily glass on the table. Folding his hands on his lap, he said: "Why come back?"
"You."
"You've already said that."
She saw the pride of accomplishment. He must be thinking: the drug has worked. She is my slave for life.
"And you're the best game in town, just so you won't think you're all that top grade stuff."
He smiled, wiped his nose. "So, you've come back." He reached for her hand.
"To be with you. I want you more than family or country." She was shuddering.
He was shaking, too. "You were the best. I hope what we had hasn't died."
"Only one way to find out." She was on her feet, stripping.
He threw back the covers, unbelted the robe, unbuttoned the pajamas. They were naked, both primed.
"I've never been this excited so quick."
She ran to him, fell beside him. "The brandy. And being separated for so damn long. I feel it too." She rubbed her pudenda against his leg. "Can't you feel my need? Can't you feel it?" Spasms echoed and re-echoed. The damn brandy was stronger than she had thought. He was pinching, slapping her buttocks. As hard as he might screw her till she bled to death. If he was half as hot as she was.
He turned her over on her face, mounted her legs. He rubbed his cock on a buttock. The softness and body heat brought him off. He directed the stream into her anus. She whimpered, shuddered as the deposit exploded deep in her hole. Sufficiently lubricated, he fell on her back, stuffing his stick down that tightly packed tunnel of muscle. He was all the way in, jerking left then right, grunting, wheezing as the come spurted.
"Ah, wonderful," she gasped, flushed and sweating.
He rolled off and she parted her labia and began patting her clitoris. While she did this she got off the bed and, still stroking, went to the closet. She found a belt, tossed it to him.
"Use this, baby," she crooned, hurrying back to bed.
She was beside him and he got up on his knees and swung the belt. It fell without much impact.
"No good." He stood by the bed. "Turn around." She shifted so her ankles hung over the mattress. "Much better."
She was still plucking and crushing her clitoris when the first blow struck. Reverberations went through her shoulders. She kept plucking as the second blow fell. It was getting better and better. The plucking. And the beating.
A third blow. And a fourth. And the ecstasy was increasing. She was coming, one right after the other in an unbroken stream. If only his kicks were this good. She heard grunts, and muted popping sounds He was getting it off, too. Just as fast as she was.
Two finely tuned souls, tuned to each other's life rhythms, she thought sadly.
A fifth blow and he seemed to be doing it harder, if that were possible. He spaced the blows so as not to overuse one area. Red splotchy welts appeared. Then he flipped the belt, caught it, end first, the buckle pointed at her. Without warning he rained blow after blow. Her buttocks quivered. The pleasure bit deep, through her anus, through her vagina. Heat spread across her back muscles. The massage was driving her wild. She jerked her clit but her fingers were slimy; she couldn't maintain her grip. She spread wider, pulled the labia back with her index fingers and, once the clitoris was exposed, she slammed her hips down, beating the swollen gland on the hard mattress. As she came up he snapped the buckle across her rump. They kept it up until neither one was able to take it any longer.
He collapsed beside her. "My dear lover," and he brushed a hand across the welted flesh.
"I love you, too," she murmured, dreamy, exhausted, lost.
"Will you stay with me, allow me to take care of you, teach you our philosophies?"
"I'll stay for the sex, not the fireside chats."
"You're not political."
"Only passionate." On her side she reached for him and was astounded that he was hard again. "Good brandy will do it every time." She bent and her hair spilled over his thighs and belly.
"Yes, it must be that. Something." He circled her head with his legs, holding her tightly.
They rocked back and forth; he whimpered, she grunted. Her lips and teeth slid from the cockhead, down the shaft. As she took the entire muscle she choked on the strength. Patting his balls, lightly stroking the scrotum, using just enough fingertip pressure, she thought of him and it was like holding onto a prized dream even when you knew you were waking up.
She lifted his hips, worked a hand under him and parted his cheeks. With a finger she entered him, wiggling that finger all the way to the asshole. He loved it, tightened his grip on her head, rocked faster. One final lunge into the hole, one last pull of the shaft, and he erupted.
"Well, now, wasn't that lots of kicks?" She was flushed, sweating. Her eyes were wide, steamy. Her hair spilled over the temples. "Like some more?"
"More with the belt?"
"Not just yet." She winked. "I have to recover first. Then back at it."
"What do we do till then?"
"Remember the dry towel massage?"
He tilted his head, wrinkling the forehead, remembering. "Ah, yes," he breathed as it all returned.
She lifted the burgeoning cock. "I can see you remember. I can feel it, too."
"Yes, I'd like that." The cock got bigger.
The brandy, she mused. It got her heated up, too. Lust covers everything, she thought. Blots out all horrors leaving only that little thing between your legs . . . that little thing that all your thoughts are centered on. More sex, less wars. That'd make a catchy slogan.
"Be right back, sex tiger." She scooted off the bed, jizz dripping down her thigh, spotting the carpet.
When she came back, he smiled, moistened his lips and turned over on his back. She slowed as she passed her clothing, then continued on to the bed. "I really love you, Li," she breathed, her warmth making him sweat.
"And I love you."
If she could only believe that. I would make the years ahead more tolerable.
"Are you ready, dear Li?" She braced herself on her knees, over him.
"Yes," he called through the pillow.
"Then relax." She slapped his buttocks.
He relaxed. "Is that good enough?"
"Better than I expected," she replied, thinking of something else.
Something, he didn't know what, made him turn his head. Possibly it was the tone of voice, or the way her voice trembled . . . with fear, not passion.
He twisted his neck to better see her. But all he saw was her face, contorted with something that wasn't lust.
"I love you," she bellowed. Her arm jerked, jammed forward, low.
Li felt the cold penetrate. He tried to move but the solid wedge held him down, blocked his anus, kept him from closing his legs. All this registered but didn't penetrate his brandy-drugged brain. This was going to happen to someone else, not to him, not to the redoubtable Major Li.
She held the weapon steady as Kang had instructed. The weapon was a woman's pistol, small caliber. Big enough for what she was about to do, to free herself of all men, all exploiters.
Biting her tongue as Kang had advised, she pulled the trigger. The explosion was muffled. Gore spattered, a foul damp odor rose immediately. The expression on Li's face changed from bewilderment to fright to astonishment. Then his eyes rolled back, his mouth jerked crookedly, and a gasp and a moan escaped and, limbs jerking, he flattened against the bloody mattress.
She sat in the midst of his entrails, not moving, the gun still in her hand, still imbedded in him. When the odor and the wetness became too much to stand she got up and went into the bathroom. Automatically she showered, dried and returned to her clothes. The mattress was soaked. The stink was strong. The nearby walls were splattered with large brownish red gouts.
She went to the bed for a last look. His face, except for the wide, wild eyes, was peaceful. She closed his eyes, turned to go, turned back and bent and quickly kissed the warm, wet forehead. She pulled the blanket over him and walked out.
The night was chilly. The wind came up, spreading the sweat across her face as she walked into the gust. Cold hair was what she needed to dissipate the drug put in the brandy to make him aroused. It had done the same for her, exciting her so she didn't dwell on what had to be done, was already done. Now that it was done she wanted to think about it, had to think about it or lose her sanity.
What she had done was break with the past, and the present. Li turned her from the past, showed her another wonderful and wild world. The present was Li. To be able to survive she had to cut the cord. He was dead anyway before she entered the bedroom. Tomorrow, or the next day at the latest, the allied planes would find Hamhung, the Tiny Tim rockets, those ancient World War Two death devices, would level this utopia. Or, worse, they would send in the foot soldiers and take Li alive and parade him around, and subject him to endless interrogations and, finally, lock him up in some cold coffin sized cell. He would die there a day at a time.
This was the only way. Quick. With a minimum of pain. As peaceful as he looked, it wasn't all pain. That force striking his prostate set off a massive orgasm, the kind of climax only the sexually insane feel. Li was not insane. Imprisoned, he would've gone crazy.
She did the right thing. She repeated that as she darted along the quiet square, to the town entrance, where the guard was posted. They nodded, he leered, trying to get her interest but having failed at that, he shrugged and continued walking his post.
Kang waited two city blocks away, in the shadows. She saw him as she passed the stone thrill room. Hands in pockets, he lounged in front of a tree. The hands came out and he lunged away from the tree when he saw her.
"How did it go?" He took her hand and was shocked not to find tremors.
"It went."
"Our way would've been less . . . messy, less dangerous."
"It still would've been your way, regardless. My way did it fast, painlessly."
"A merciful death is usually reserved for those deserving one."
"He led a miserable life. He was entitled to a better death."
"His life was what he made of it. He liked his work too well."
"The cord's been cut. I'm free. I don't want to talk about it."
Kang was already thinking about the commie radio reports in the morning. The reports of Li's strange, awful death. He also thought of his return to the village, to assume the role of dedicated soldier. His mind was on this and he didn't hear what she said. He asked her to repeat, and she did.
They went down into a ditch, climbed back up on the other side of the road and continued on into the forest. The sky was overcast and there was a smell of moisture which drifted through the trees, carrying the forest's perfume to them.
He took her by the arm, held on, to stop her. "Please."
"Why, Kang?"
"Because . . . " The words would betray him, make him vulnerable. With the heart exposed, a soldier was fair game for the enemy. A patriot had to be single-minded. If he allowed outside influences (and that was what she had to be if he was to shake her from his thoughts) to govern him, his vulnerability would lead to carelessness and eventual capture. He was not like her. He could only stand so much pain. If he broke under questioning the entire guerilla front would be betrayed. If that happened he would be condemned even if he escaped and survived. The guilt would haunt him, chase him down, find him and destroy him. He couldn't let her do this to him.
They stood, staring at each other. He .looked so warm, then cold, she thought. She must have showed the same impassivity for he let go of her hand, gestured at the path ahead.
They went on a few more feet before he again stopped.
"We'll be back at base camp before dawn. Another couple of hours. We have time."
"For a farewell?" Her voice was surprisingly breathy, passion-heavy. The passion bubbled down below. What was this? Aftershock? A way of burying Li forever? "Come on." She smoothed a place on the ground, clearing the few clumps of snow, and the pine needles. The earth was cold, solid, smooth. She hiked up her skirt, threw open the coat and tore the buttons on the shirt front. "Now fuck me fast, hard. Now." She clenched, unclenched her fists as he stripped his pants and shorts down to his ankles. The moon turned the shaft pale, the head black. She raised her tits to his mouth. "Bite them," she rasped. "Hurt me so we can say good-bye."
His cock branded her puss. He bore down, wheezing and sweating, using his leg muscles and hips to pile drive the yielding depths. She turned her head, stared unblinking at the shadows of the forest rising around them. The wind kicked up; her eyes teared but she didn't blink.
He jammed deeply, tearing her up. She came when he mounted her and she counted the orgasms since. She was a fucking fool. No mistake there. All it took was a man, and a little force; nothing elaborate. She could get it off anywhere, anytime, with any man, in any setting. All it took was force.
The trees were swaying as the wind slapped, and Kang slammed harder. He flailed her, beating out his frustration, inflicting punishment for having been around when he was most vulnerable, open, susceptible.
She took his punishment, taking comfort from his rage. The smell of his anger obliterated the sweet, heavy aromas of the trees and ground. This was going to be good, a fitting farewell to Korea. She raised her lips and wrenched her pelvis, undulating her belly, matching his rhythm. The tits bounced and she lifted them, fed them to him. He crushed them in his hands, squeezing the sensitive tips, thrusting deeper, following her lead now.
They locked loins. She held the shaft to her clitoris. The orgasms exploded. He held back, waiting for her to blow it all off. And she did, too many times to count. Then he plunged ahead, holding the rhythm in short, jagged, jarring bursts.
The speed picked up; they both controlled it now. They both hit their climax at the same time. For her it was a short burst. For him it was powerful enough to tingle his prostate, leave him limp, gasping, sweat blinded.
He rolled off and, for a few seconds, didn't move. She turned away, not wanting to see him now that she was finished. She buttoned the few remaining buttons, then zipped the Army issue jacket. Even after all this she was still excited by the feel of the jacket on her nipples. She smiled.
If she could get worked up over a damn jacket, then anything else she might get would drive her bananas. That was something to think about. The future. Away from the cold, bleak world of Korea. Back to civilized life. Central heating. Carpets on the floor. Men that smelled of cologne. Long hot baths in bubble-salts.
And for the sex . . . well, she knew which direction she was headed. Li had fixed that. All she had to do was follow. Find others like her that would make good companions, fine bed partners.
All that, the good life, was close. A one way jet home and she would have it. All of it. For as long as she survived. And she would survive.
The sweet side of life was close. Just reach out.
It was there.
And that's what Gwen did. She returned to America, worked her way from New York to L.A., finally settling in San Diego where she went to work for a clinic in La Jolla. The work was enjoyable, stimulating, and the doctor was simpatico.
The warm Southern California nights provided background for long walks on the beach, and parties and candlelight suppers at beachfront cottages.
She was happy. But every so often, when she was in a crowd, or dining alone in a restaurant a man would catch her eye. The man would resemble Li and when he would raise his glass in a gesture of friendliness she would respond. The sex would be good but, later, there would be an empty spot. A disappointment. And she knew then that Li would always be with her. A shadow that would rise on a sunny day, blotting out the warmth. And she would feel the loneliness, the emptiness that would always be with her, in the background, behind the pleasure facade.
