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Chapter 162 The Tale of the Tawse
Khasar and Yim, two of the taller crewmen of the Yang-tze, quickly stepped forward to undo the bonds that had so tightly imprisoned Erika’s wrists.
Once she was free, Erika’s naked body slumped to the deck of the scaffolding, falling face down, her shoulders having been sapped of every ounce of strength by her cruel bondage.
The deck was still wet from the buckets of sea water that had jolted her out of her semi-consciousness less than an hour earlier, and Erika felt the coolness of the brine against the front of her body. The coolness felt good, but she knew that the salt in the brine was already seeking out every cut, every abrasion, every contusion on her nude body to do its insidious work.
“Get up, whore!” Khasar growled. “We’re not done with you yet!” He drove his right foot into her left side to punctuate his impatience.
“Aghh!” Erika cried out in pain. “Bitte … bitte … no more, please,” she murmured, as she crawled forward on her belly, feeling the roughness of the deck against her thighs, belly and breasts.
“That’s all right, mate,” Jasper Slegg said in a mocking voice. “I like watching the wench crawl.” And indeed, the sight of the voluptuous prisoner, her back and buttocks and thighs bearing the faint – and a few not so faint - impressions left by dozens of lash strokes, her gorgeous pink-nippled breasts scraping the deck of the ship with her every laborious movement, her golden hair tossed caressingly on her shoulders by a freshening wind, was one that none of the crewmen of the Yang-tze Dragon would soon forget.
“Besides, matey, she ain’t goin’ nowhere!” Slegg jeered. “Are ye princess?” Slegg reached down and grabbed a handful of Erika’s golden hair. “But we can’t ‘ave ye ‘idin’ those pretty tits, can we lads?” Slegg jerked her head up and back roughly, lifting her upper body slightly, so as to better display Erika’s jutting, brine-moist breasts to his comrades.
“Tell ye what, princess. Me and the boys think ye should have the honor of drawin’ the next name So why don’t ye crawl over to the cap’n and draw the name o’ the lucky blighter ‘oo gets to deliver the next stroke?” Slegg chuckled evilly as he released her blonde mane.
Erika gave the first mate a look of venomous contempt, but slowly began to pull her exhausted body up onto her hands and knees.
“I said, ‘crawl,’ wench!” Slegg rasped, lifting his right leg and slamming his foot down onto Erika’s shapely buttocks, crushing her downward until she was once again prostrate on the deck.
“Unnghhh,” Erika groaned in pain.
“Crawl,’ I said!”
As had been the case with the gauntlet of suffering {Ch 148} that she had run what seemed like an eternity ago, but had only been several hours, the distance she had to negotiate to cross to the captain was not long, - only a few yards - but seemed far longer than it was. Because each time she tried to pull her body up a bit to reduce the dreadful friction of her nude body against the wooden deck, Slegg planted his foot firmly down on her buttocks or the small of her back, and crushed her flat once again.
And so Erika inched her way across the deck on her belly, while thirty-odd seamen looked on, shouting vile insults and catcalls in several languages.
“Hey, Lucky! Maybe if you stuck your cock in her pretty arse and gave her a good nudge she’d move faster!”
“Lift her head up again, Slegg! Let’s have another good look at those juicy tits!”
Slegg obliged, delighting his shipmates, who never tired of ogling their prisoner’s bold-nippled breasts.
General Wang looked on in amusement at the plight of his sex slave. The crewmen of this accursed vessel were as unrefined as a herd of rhinos at a watering hole, but no less dangerous. And the beautiful young woman who was the object of their sadistic games beggared all description.
The general had known a thousand beautiful women, and had had his way with all but a few. But the attractions of nearly all the others had left him feeling jaded after an hour or an evening of debauchery. Whereas Erika was a demi-goddess with golden hair, azure eyes, lovely facial features, and a flawless peaches and cream complexion whose seeming perfection was somehow enhanced by the telltale marks of the lash. Her splendid pink-nippled breasts had absorbed so much punishment and abuse and yet remained forever proud and defiant. Her smooth, flat belly, the alluring, blonde-tufted mons veneris that stood sentinel over the inviting lips of her sex, the long, lithe legs, the wonderfully rounded buttocks that seemed to invite the stroke of a hand, a strap, a whip – all of these were as tantalizing at this moment as they had been when Slegg had dragged her before Captain McMahon’s improvised court several hours and countless sexual indignities ago.
Notwithstanding her incomparable beauty though, the general had come to believe, it was not just her body that made her unique, inimitable. This remarkable creature had the grace of a forest deer, the courage of a cobra-killing mongoose, the stamina of a dromedary, and the heart of a lion.
General Wang looked down at the nude beauty crawling across the deck with such unflagging tenacity and he felt a surge of energy in his loins. What a spirited sexual conquest this young beauty was going to make! Taming her would be infinitely and endlessly exciting because she would never fully surrender. Each night her beauty and her valor would challenge his imagination, his cruelty and his manhood as never before. He would subdue her, of course, because while feminine courage could defy masculine power, in the end power must prevail. But he was not sure that he would ever truly vanquish her. He would have to conquer her again and again and again at every encounter. But what a sublime pleasure it would be to ravish her in every way a woman could be ravished, to use his power to crush her spirit, to bend that magnificent body to his will, night after night after night….
“Come on, frowlein!” Slegg jeered at the crawling beauty. “Only another few feet to go!”
Finally, Erika managed to drag her tortured body to within a foot or so of Captain McMahon.
“Go on princess. Pick the next name. The slips are in ‘is right trouser pocket.”
Blushing furiously, Erika pulled herself to her knees.
“Better step closer, cap’n. She’s still a bit too far away.”
The red-bearded skipper, amused by Slegg’s little game, adjusted the massive erection in his trousers so that its bulbous head pressed against the deep pocket where he had put the slips with the sailors’ names.
“Hurry it up, frowlein!” Slegg barked. “The lads want to know who the next lucky bloke is! Slegg placed his foot in the middle of her back and pushed forward aggressively, mashing Erika’s pretty face against McMahon’s groin.
Erika’s recoiled violently after coming in contact with the captain’s trouser-covered cock. The burly skipper, though, enjoying her humiliation, reached down and grabbed a handful of blonde hair and pressed her face against his body again.
“I said draw the name, you bloody whore!” Slegg snarled and swept the tawse across the ripe summits of Erika’s creamy buttocks, with a loud THWACKKK!!!
“Aihhh!” Erika yelped in pain. But there was nothing to be done. Blushing furiously she plunged her left hand halfway into the captain’s right trouser pocket but found nothing.
“I guess ye’ll have to dig deeper than that,” Slegg jeered. “Go on princess, maybe ye’ll find a prize in the candy box,” he snickered.
This vulgar jest drew mocking laughter from many of the crewmen.
Captain McMahon, owing to the fifteen or eighteen fingers of scotch he had imbibed during the breaks in the Flogging of the Bells, had a tippler’s smile on his face, but he was also consumed by a powerful lust. If the general had not been on board, he would have liberated his ruddy cock and forced the German girl to take it between her pretty pink lips. As it was, though he was reduced to enjoying the pleasant sensation of Erika’s delicate fingers probing the depths of his pocket and brushing against his thick-veined manhood.
“Go on, frowlein, Wrap yer ‘and around it and give it a good tug! The cap’n could use a little cheerin’ up. Ain’t that right, sir?”
McMahon could feel Erika’s warm breath on his groin. That sensation, coupled with the sight of her naked body on her knees before him, seemed to pump another ounce blood of into the erection which poked obscenely against his trousers.
Erika, her face, neck and breasts scarlet with humiliation, dug her hand a little further into the captain’s pocket, trying to ignore the warm, pulsing truncheon in her path. At last her fingertips grasped a piece of paper. She withdrew her hand and offered it to the captain.
A somewhat wobbly Andrew McMahon squinted at the crumpled bit of paper (one of three dozen such slips Slegg had prepared using English characters) for a moment. “Slegg, did ye nae gang tae schuil? Yer haundrite is waur than yer accent!” After moving the paper first closer to his face and then further away, the captain finally made sense of the name and called out, “Tan!” in his booming voice.
“Too long a name for you, captain?” the sailor named Tan muttered sarcastically under his breath as he elbowed his way forward through the assembly.
************
A violent tremor surged through Erika’s nude body. Minutes earlier, Slegg, the wily first mate, had talked General Wang into letting the four remaining crewmen use the Lochgelly tawse, a short leather strap made of some of the thickest and toughest cowhide in Britain, on her defenseless breasts. If that were not bad enough, she was going to have to place her hands under her tender treasures and offer them to the seaman wielding the strap. And now, the evil-eyed seaman elbowing his way through his fellow crewmen was about to deliver the first stroke.
A small sturdy man, Tan, an ethnic Chinese, had been a pimp in Jakarta in better times, supplying attractive young females to a brothel that catered to the wealthy Dutch traders and planters who had made the bustling Javanese city, which the Dutch called Batavia, their colonial capital. While there, he had occasionally been entrusted with the diverting task of disciplining young women who had failed to please the patrons. Tan would probably have been there still had it not been for one of the recurring violent outbreaks of anti-Chinese hostility so common in south Asia and the East Indies. Like many of his fellow Chinese, he had been forced to flee the city, and eventually the island. He had eventually taken a packet steamer to Macao, and it was there that he heard of the Yang-tze Dragon, the slave ship that supplied the brothels of dozens of ports on the China sea with countless unfortunate young women.
Tan had flogged quite a few women during his time at the brothel, but only once had he administered a breast-whipping. The victim of that memorable flogging had been a dark-eyed, raven-tressed young woman in her late teens. Tika, a native of Surabaya, a city to the east, had been sold into sexual servitude by a rapacious uncle after malaria had taken the lives of her parents.
After several weeks of abject misery at the brothel, servicing several men a day, Tika had been forced to pleasure a brutish, half-drunk spice merchant from Rotterdam. After three savage bouts of love-making, he had passed out, and Tika had dared to steal fifty guilders that she had seen him tuck away in his passport, in hopes of buying her freedom.
But the crime was discovered before she could make her escape. Once Tika had been identified as the culprit, the owner of the brothel decided to make an example of her, in case any of his other pleasure girls were entertaining similar ideas. On the appointed day of her punishment he had directed Tan to bind the pretty thief to the whipping post in the tulip-lined courtyard behind the bordello, where similar floggings had been administered from time to time.
As was customary, Tan had begun to bind the struggling beauty so that her back was toward the assembled audience, which on this day included the girl’s tearful co-workers, the vengeful spice merchant she had robbed, and a number of select clients. The clients in attendance were, without exception, men of substantial means and unusual tastes, men who were willing to pay well for the chance of seeing a severe flogging administered to an ungrateful miscreant, especially a miscreant who happened to be one of the youngest and prettiest pleasure girls in Jakarta.
But, just as he was wrapping Tika’s wrists around the pole to bind them, one of the customers, a stocky, well-dressed Englishman with a porcine face, stood up and addressed the owner. “There’s twenty pounds sterling in it for you, Van Doorn, if you turn the slut around!”
The owner of the brothel, a greedy Dutchman who would have agreed to flog his own daughter for twenty shillings, said, “Very well, Benson,” and gave Tan an approving nod.
Although he was a bit taken aback by the proposal, the young whoremonger had proceeded to reposition Tika so that she faced the audience, lashing her wrists securely so high on the pole that she was forced to stand on the tips of her toes. Then he had taken a firm grip on the bodice of her silk kebaya and ripped it down the front with a single swift movement, exposing a pair of exquisitely dark-nippled breasts whose youthful firmness rendered supporting undergarments superfluous.
Aroused by the sight of her naked breasts, Tan tore furiously at the upper part of the tattered kebaya until all that remained were a pair of tattered sleeves, ensuring that only the odd wisp of silken fabric would obstruct the path of the thirty-inch leather strap that he employed on such occasions.
Tan had begun rather cautiously, having no experience flogging such tender targets, but even his first somewhat tentative stroke to the Surabayan beauty’s pleasingly rounded breasts had elicited a cry of anguish from her and stifled wails of compassion from the girl’s co-workers. How, they wondered, would the poor girl manage to endure ten strokes of Tan’s strap on her defenseless breasts?
Tan’s employer, Max Van Doorn, looked on, greatly pleased with the proceedings. He had broken in this tawny island nymph when he had bought her from slavers only a few weeks earlier. She had refused, at first, to use her lips and tongue in the ways that please men most, but as the night wore on, dozens of sharp strokes of his rattan cane across her lovely backside had eventually tamed her. In any event, his affluent clientele preferred youth and beauty to experience, and Tika had soon become one of his most sought after girls. While he could not countenance thievery from guests, her foolish crime had provided Van Doorn with a splendid opportunity to fatten his wallet and he had not hesitated to do so.
The Dutchman had hosted flogging sessions in the courtyard before, but never had one of his unwilling victims commanded such a steep price, nor had any drawn such a large and well-heeled turnout. Yet even these jaded voluptuaries were poised on the edge of their seats, their eyes fixed on the enticing young woman at the whipping post.
Van Doorn had given Tan instructions to take his time so as to provide a better show for the paying guests, and Tan had done so, circling the golden-skinned Javanese slowly, alternating forehands and backhands, gaining confidence with every stroke. It had been an extremely hot and humid summer day in tropical Jakarta, and both flogger and floggee were perspiring profusely after only three strokes.
Out of the corner of his eye Tan could see the spice merchant, the victim of Tika’s theft, lean closer, relishing the sight of sweat and tears joining to form rivulets of moisture that dripped down onto Tika’s naked breasts.
Along about the fifth stroke, Tan began to swing more freely, reveling in the thrilling sound of leather impacting flesh and savoring the salacious bouncing of Tika’s young breasts each time he struck them. Even so he was careful not to aim directly at the taut nipples that crowned her tawny love-mounds. They seemed too delicate, too fragile for such harsh treatment.
The young pimp was just about to deliver the ninth stroke when the Englishman spoke again, “There’s a gold guinea in it for you, boy, if you give her the last two on those pretty nips! But see that you put your arm into it! Hard money for hard strokes, eh boy?”
Nodding, Tan gritted his teeth. Despite his earlier caution, the acquisitive young man was determined not to pass up the chance of earning such a large bonus. Tan positioned himself just to the right of the unfortunate thief. Even as the bronzed-skin girl was tearfully mouthing the word “No,” he carefully drew a bead on her quivering areolae and delivered a well-aimed blow that landed squarely across both of her nipples with a resounding THWACKK! that spoke to its punishing force.
The dark-eyed beauty had cried out in agony, but her moans were drowned out by a thunderous, “Ja…ja... Goed Een!” from the vengeful spice merchant.
A moment later the corpulent Briton called out, “Well done, boy. But remember - you’ll need another direct hit to win that guinea!”
As he had done previously, Tan, circled the girl slowly, allowing the tension to build and allowing the audience to bask in the suffering of the helpless victim writhing at the whipping post. Then, taking up a backhanded stance on the girl’s left, he unleashed yet another skillful blow that all but crushed her tender nipples, drawing another cry of agony from the raven-tressed beauty.
A moment later, after Tan had pocketed the gold coin flipped to him by the Englishman, he had moved to untie the tearful beauty, as he had done after all the previous floggings he had administered. But Van Doorn had held up his hand to stop him. For the avaricious Dutchman had not yet drawn the last ounce of profit from the bare-breasted thief.
“Who wants her?” he bellowed. “The highest bidder gets her for the night!”
A spirited auction ensued, with half a dozen of the attendees bidding for the opportunity to ravage the whip-marked girl at the post. The spice merchant, anxious to take his own revenge, had bid vigorously but in the end Benson, the rich Englishman, refused to be outdone. After Van Doorn’s gavel had sounded for the third time, the corpulent banker strode forward while Tan undid the ropes binding Tika’s wrists.
Seizing the bare-breasted temptress roughly by the arm, Benson dragged her toward a private cabin at the brothel, whence sounds of flesh on flesh and leather on flesh, followed almost invariably by the plaintive moans of a young woman in abject misery had echoed long into the night….
Tan had been greatly aroused by the flogging as well, so much so that he had spent a sizable portion of his bonus that very evening, quenching a seemingly insatiable lust by working his way through several of the brothel’s pleasure girls, taking each of them with a violent ferocity he had never experienced before.
************
That flogging had taken place two years earlier and Tan had never had the opportunity to relive that incredibly stimulating experience. But now, here he was, standing face to face with a Teutonic beauty who was every bit as exotic to him as Tika the island girl had been to the sadistic Englishman.
And what a beauty! While the Surabayan girl’s breasts had been lovely pert-nippled cones tipped with dark chocolate, they could not compare to the lush creamy melons of Erika Weiss. Tan’s only regret was that he would only be able to deliver one stroke to the opulent breasts of this golden-haired goddess.
Erika stood before him, her arms at her sides, her bare feet slightly parted, her long blonde hair dancing on her shoulders thanks to an increasingly gusty sea breeze. After her painful and humiliating crawl across the deck, most of the crewmen had expected her to cower, her face downcast. But after struggling painfully to her feet, Erika had gathered herself and she stood before Tan now, tall, proud, defiant, her blue eyes blazing with contempt.
The former whoremonger returned the hostile glare, as his hands caressed the thick leather tawse admiringly. He had heard the resounding THWACCKK! the strap had made on Erika’s bare flesh earlier, and now he could see why. The 30-inch strap he had used on Tika, painful as it had been, had been only half as thick, half as punishing as the instrument he now held in his hands.
“ ‘ow d’ye want ‘er, mate? Standing up or on ‘er knees? Our little princess might need some practice on her knees, y’know. I’ve got a feeling she may be spending a lot of time on them in the weeks to come. Ain’t that right, yer lordship?”
A rare smile crossed the tight lips of General Wang. “It is exceedingly likely,” he replied, giving Erika a glance that promised suffering and degradation in equal measure.
“Let me see,” mumbled Tan pensively as he considered the question of Erika’s elevation. Not a tall man, it occurred to him that a standing Erika, who was about three inches taller than he, would require an awkward stroke, landing before the strap had reached its maximum speed. And yet, if she were kneeling on the ship’s deck, the tawse would have to travel too far downward before striking her breasts, somewhat diminishing the power of his stroke.
“If ye don’t mind my sayin’ so, boy, I’ve had a bit of experience in these matters. What ye want, if yer givin’ a good downward stroke, is to ‘ave yer target - that is to say the tops of these juicy tits,” Slegg, clarified, squeezing Erika’s right breast, “ right at the ‘eight of your liver. So, if she’s kneelin’ you’d want the slut about a foot ‘igher than she would otherwise be. D’ye follow?”
“Y-yes.” Tan could not believe how much thought the twisted first mate had put into such matters.
“If I might make a suggestion, yer lordship?” Slegg continued. ‘ow about if I send a couple of the boys to get the little cot we ‘ave in the infirmary. If we ‘ad our princess kneel on the cot, it’d be just about the right ‘eight I believe.”
General Wang glanced at Hsi Fong, who gave him a “Why not?” shrug, and a moment later Tranh and Lucky were dispatched to retrieve the cot.
They returned a minute or two later with the narrow, rough-hewn wooden bed. Erika remembered it well: the man they called Froggy had been sprawled across it when he had forced her to bring him to orgasm using only the pressure of her breasts against his thick cock in return for a pitcher of water for the dying stoker (Ch 143). Spotting Froggy among the Chinese seaman arrayed to her right, Erika saw him whispering to his comrades. Their mocking leers and smiles made it clear that Froggy was regaling them with his exploits.
Erika flushed miserably, trying to regain her composure; but there was worse to follow.
“All right, frowlein, get on the cot. On yer knees, where ye belong!”
Erika could not contain her violent trembling as she clambered awkwardly onto the cot.
“Kneel up straight, wench. If ye slouch again, it’ll be the worse for ye. Shoulders back, tits out!”
Fighting to suppress the waves of terror sweeping through her body, Erika did her best to comply, feeling the hot lustful gaze of the bloodthirsty crewmen on her outthrust treasures.
Slegg paused for a moment to admire his workmanship. Then he reached out and smacked Erika’s right inner thigh sharply with his open hand. “Spread ‘em, sweetie! Give the boys a good look at that pretty puss!”
The kneeling beauty moved her knees ever so slightly apart.
I said, “Spread your legs, wench!” Slegg roared, as he viciously backhanded Erika’s right breast.
“Aaanggh!” Erika cried out in pain.
Slegg raised his right arm to strike her again, but Erika, complied, shifting her weight and sliding her knees outward until they were about eighteen inches apart. She blushed profusely knowing that the sweet pink lips of her labia were peeking out from underneath their downy covering.
“See there, mate?” Now she’s just the proper ‘eight, ain’t she?”
Tan nodded approvingly, as a cruel grin crossed his face. Kneeling on the cot, Erika’s creamy pleasure melons were perfectly positioned for a punishing downward stroke. Tan’s cock was growing harder by the moment, and his right hand, his whipping hand, was almost twitching in anticipation.
“All right, princess. Let’s see you offer those beauties to this nice gentleman.”
Erika placed her trembling hands under her quivering breasts, cupping them gently.
“ ‘ow about that yer lordship? Did ye ever see such a pretty pair?”
The general, stiff and straight in his olive uniform, made no reply, but none was necessary. Every man on board focused his gaze on Erika’s superb breasts, two generous goblets of tit-flesh crowned by coral-brown nipples that quivered gently in the breeze, as if cognizant of their unhappy fate.
“Very nice, frowlein. Now edge forward a bit so that your knees are right at the edge of the bed. That’s it. Snuggle right up there. We want to make sure the boys in the back can see, don’t we?”
Erika flushed again. She could feel three dozen pairs of hostile eyes on her defenseless body. She glanced quickly from one obdurate face to another searching for sympathy, but finding only lust-filled eyes and a grim determination to enforce her harsh sentence to the last stroke. It was clear from their stony countenances that all but a few of them were regretting the fact that their names had been drawn so early in the rotation.
“One last thing princess, before we get under way. Give those sweet little nips a good rub. The boys like ‘em stickin’ out nice and firm. Don’t ye lads?”
Slegg’s suggestion was greeted by a roar of approval and a number of vulgar taunts.
“Squeeze ‘em good, slut!” cried one.
“Harder! Pinch ‘em harder!” another chimed in helpfully.
Erika, despairing, ran her graceful fingers listlessly over her lovely nipples, which were slow to respond.
“Princess, if ye don’t do a better job than that, I’m gonna do it for ye,” Slegg growled. “Deng-shan, maybe ye’d better fetch yer little toolbox?”
The thought of Slegg applying a pair of pincers or pliers to her tender nipples send a fresh shudder of fear through Erika’s naked body. In a forlorn voice she pleaded, “Nein … nein… I will do it… I will do it.”
Erika closed her eyes and forced herself to imagine that she was far from the ghastly slave ship. That she was lounging in some silken boudoir, freshly bathed and scented and awaiting the arrival of her lover, strumming and stroking her nipple-buds not just because the sensation was pleasant, but so that they would be proud and firm just for him.
Somehow she managed to lose herself in a sexual reverie for the better part of a minute, until her amorous daydream was interrupted by Jasper Slegg’s rasping voice. “Look at ‘em, mates!” Slegg exclaimed. “Just look at ‘em!”
And indeed, Erika’s breast-buds were now taut and swollen and slightly richer in color, it seemed, than before.
“That’s lovely, princess, really. But now for the fun part. Cup those big beauties again for the nice gentleman.”
Tan’s heart was pounding furiously as Erika once again slid her slender fingers under her proud breasts. He edged sideways until he was standing directly opposite the girl on the cot.
“Now lift ‘em up for us, sweetie. That’s it. Nice and slow.”
Suddenly Slegg’s prurient smile vanished. “Move yer thumbs out of the way, wench!”
Erika had subtly tried to edge the tips of her thumbs over her surging nipples to protect them from the tawse, but even that most inconsequential of victories was denied her.
“All right, boy. Show us what you can do. Give ‘em a good whack!”
Tan, lifted the tawse high over his shoulder and swept it down cross the top of Erika’s left breast, being careful to make sure her taut brown nipple was directly in the line of fire.
THWACKKK!
“AAAUGHHH!””
As Erika’s nude body bucked violently on the cot, a tumultuous roar from the crewmen celebrated her suffering. She rocked back and forth, folding her arms across her breasts like a mother shielding an infant from a storm.
“None o’ that, dearie,” Slegg growled, grabbing a handful of her blonde hair and pulling her head back roughly, displaying her opulent breasts to the crewmen. “The lads deserve a good look, don’t ye boys? Are ye fergettin’ that ye tried to set our bloody ship afire?”
The men looked on excitedly. Tan had delivered his blow while facing Erika directly, leaving a path of fiery red from the point where the upper slope of her breast surged so boldly from her chest wall, all along the topside of her breast down to her distended nipple, crushing the tender nubbin inward and downward with brutal force.
Pleased with himself, Tan flipped the tawse over to Jasper Slegg who had to release his grip on Erika’s blonde mane to catch it. Slegg’ diabolical grin reflected his satisfaction with the way his scheme had worked out.
Erika, meanwhile, collapsed sideways on the cot, face down, turning her head away from the lewd crewmen, pulling the woolen blanket on the cot against her body as if seeking some respite, however brief, from the harshness of her servitude.
“All right, cap’n. ’oo we got next?”
McMahon dipped his big hand into his pocket, pulled out a slip of paper and called out, “Mr Lu!”
When no one stepped forward, the crewmen began looking around for the absent Mr Lu.
“Crikey!” Slegg exclaimed, slapping his forehead. “I forgot! ‘e’s on stoking duty. I sent ‘im down to relieve Yong Li a couple of hours ago.” Slegg pondered a suitable replacement for a moment and then announced, “Tan, ye’ve ‘ad yer fun. Go below and take over and send Lu up here. Chop chop!”
The former pimp gave Slegg a dirty ‘Why me?’ look, but made no objection. Slegg was right. He had had his fun. Thirty years hence he’d still be regaling eager listeners in waterfront taverns about the time he had lashed the wonderful breasts of the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.
As Tan made his way below decks, Slegg glanced down at the prostrate body of Erika Weiss, still shaking convulsively. Dropping the tawse on the edge of the cot, he bent down and seized her by the wrist and jerked her arm roughly until she was kneeling upright on her haunches, clutching the blanket in her other hand, holding it against her body to partially cover her nakedness.
“We’ll ‘ave none of that princess!” Slegg rasped, tearing the blanket away and then grabbing her by both wrists and pulling them back viciously, jerking her into a more upright position, and forcing her ripe-nippled breasts to jut obscenely outward toward his lust-crazed shipmates.
“Well, your lordship. Was I right or wrong? Didn’t I tell ye a few strokes on these beauties would be a nice little show? And no ‘arm done. Yer feeling right as rain, ain’t ye princess?”
When Erika remained silent, Slegg twisted one of her wrists into a vicious hammerlock. “I asked ye a question, frowlein,” he rasped maliciously. “And I’d like an answer!” he added, increasing the upward pressure on her wrist.
“Ja … yes…” Erica gasped, trying to keep from crying out.
“See there, yer lordship. She’s practically askin’ for a few more on those beauties, ain’t you, princess?”
Slegg gave her hammerlocked arm another forceful wrench, drawing another plaintive, “Ja,” from his tortured prisoner.
“Ah! ‘ere ‘e is!” Slegg announced, as Mr Lu, fresh from the stoking room and covered in coal dust, made his way forward.
“Ye’re a lucky man, Lu. The wench was just tellin’ us how much she was enjoyin’ ‘er stay ‘ere. And how she was ‘opin’ you’d join us and share in the fun.”
************
Lu was a powerfully built man in his late forties. In his youth he had been a blacksmith in a tiny village in Guizhou, a province in south central China. Well-built but shy and taciturn, he was much admired by the girls of the village, but having been orphaned as a youth, he had no father or uncle to approach the father of one of the pretty girls who had caught his eye. And so, he built himself a simple home at the end of a pathway leading away from the dirt road that passed through his village. His only sexual adventures consisting of occasionally spying on the village girls from a distance as they bathed in the nearby river. Later, in the darkness and solitude of night he would lie on his spare mattress, picturing their dark, dancing eyes, their fine black hair, their tawny skin, their firm breasts, their soft thighs, their well-curved buttocks and the sweet secret place between their legs. On countless lonely nights he would relive those voyeuristic moments, stroking himself with forbidden pleasure.
Being thrifty, industrious and single, after several years of smithing Lu felt that he had saved enough money to start a family, and he finally dared to approach the father of the prettiest unmarried girl in the village, and despite his diffidence successfully won her hand in marriage.
But their wedding night had been a debacle. After years of solitary self-pleasuring Lu was so nervous that he was unable to sustain an erection. His young wife had been patient the first night, and the second, but after several days of uninterrupted impotence, she had taken to mocking him, making matters even worse and drawing him deeper into his cocoon of reticence.
As the days passed Lu began to notice that the young women of the village, when strolling by his forge on the way to the fields, would nudge each other, casting derisive smiles in his direction. He was convinced that his wife had shared the story of his failures with her female friends. Worse yet, he had seen her flirting with other men in the village and he was sure that she had shared his shame with them. Lu began to ponder whether and how he should take his revenge.
One day, while his wife was visiting her family, Lu convinced himself that she had confided their secret to her father and brothers and the brooding young man’s anger mounted to a frenzy. When his wife returned to their little house, he cursed her for mocking his masculinity and betraying his honor.
At first she deflected his accusations with jeers and insults, but after he put his hands around her throat and demanded the truth she tearfully confessed. Now certain of her guilt, Lu dragged her outside and marched her through the lonely countryside toward a secluded grove of trees far from homes and footpaths. Once there the enraged blacksmith tore his wife’s thin tunic to shreds with his powerful hands. He fashioned a gag from one of the pieces of cloth and thrust a ball of fabric into her mouth, knotting the ends behind her head.
Then he broke off a switch from a nearby tree.
In a fury, Lu proceeded to chase his lovely young bride through the grove of trees, flogging her bare back each time he came within arm’s length, drawing tiny beads of crimson with nearly ever stroke. When she turned to plead with her half-crazed husband, he didn’t spare her small but well-rounded breasts. Her defending hands prevented many of the strokes from finding their tender targets, but several did, and soon her soft young breasts were streaked with scarlet.
Frantically, Lu’s wife turned to flee again, and ran deeper into the woods. She was younger and swifter than he, but he was relentless. For nearly an hour he stalked her, flailing at her with the switch each time she slowed her pace or stumbled over a root or a branch. When the terrified woman finally collapsed on the ground in exhaustion, Lu threw himself upon her and tore at the thin trousers worn by women of that region.
As he tugged her trousers down over her hips, Lu realized that his burst of masculine savagery had given him an erection. And not only an erection, a violently throbbing erection, one unlike he had ever known. Fumbling with his own leggings, he soon freed his pulsing cock-staff. Grabbing for the switch, he snapped it in half, retaining a sturdy 18” length that was as thick as a broomhandle.
Holding the switch horizontally at each end he forced it down toward her breasts. His young wife tried desperately to push the the length of wood away, but he was far strong than she, and he soon overpowered her and crushed the rough stick down against her heaving breasts with all of his strength. She cried out in pain, but he ignored her pleas, rolling the length of wood back and forth across her areolae and her sharp pointed nipples like a baker flattening dough.
“You wanted it? Well here it is!” he raged at his wife. Controlling her movements with the pressure of the switch, he positioned himself between her legs and then entered her with a powerful lunge that shredded the virginity that he had previously been unable to conquer. His excitement mounting by the moment, he fucked her with long, punishing strokes for a few minutes even as she continued to fight like a wildcat, clawing and scratching at his face, his neck, his dark implacable eyes.
Angered by her fury, Lu flipped her over onto her belly and plunged his massive manhood, slick with their shared secretions, into her squirming bottomhole. “Tell your girl friends about this!” he raged as he drove his rutting cock deep into her virginal anus. The tight grip of her nether muscles seemed like paradise itself, and after a dozen violent thrusts Lu spilled his copious seed into her cock-clenching rectum.
He had left his young wife lying there, half-conscious and more than half naked. He raced back to their little hut and stuffed his savings and a few belongings into a little pouch, and set out for the provincial capital, where her family would be unlikely to find him among the faceless crowds of the city.
Once there he began a new life. He had unlocked the secret of his impotence; for him it was not enough to merely be with a woman. First he must discipline her, dominate her, subjugate her….
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“ ‘ere ye go, mate,” Slegg rasped at the muscular, soot-covered stoker. “Did Tan bring ye up to speed?”
The taciturn stoker nodded silently, his eyes raking across Erika’s nude body.
“ Well, ‘ere’s the tawse, mate!” Slegg tilting his head toward the thick strap lying on the edge of the cot. “And ‘eres’ the tits!” Slegg chuckled wickedly, tightening his grip on Erika’s wrists and forcing her lush breasts so far forward that she could feel Lu’s warm breath on her nipples
Despite his fatigue from hours of hard labor, the sight of Erika’s quivering breasts quickly restored all of the recently relieved stoker’s energy. His coal-black hand reached for the tawse. As he ran the punishing strap through his dark fingers, he licked his dry lips in anticipation of imprinting a badge of pain on her soft breasts that would be as harsh and ruddy as the one that Tan had left.
“Did ye ever see sech a pair, mate?” Slegg continued.
Diffident as ever, Lu nodded his head, ‘No.’
“All right, frowlein,” Slegg growled, still gripping Erika’s wrists tightly behind her. “D’ye remember the drill? Ye’re going to stick those beauties out and lift ‘em up nice and slow for the gentleman. ‘e don’t say much, but ‘e’s a strong bloke, ‘e is. Got the arms of a bleedin’ blacksmith, don’t ‘e?”
Erika shuddered. Tan had been a man of less than average size; Lu was not only taller, he had the bulging triceps of a wrestler as well. As much as Tan’s stroke had hurt, Lu’s would almost certainly be much worse.
Slegg was just about to release Erika’s wrists when Lu silently lifted his hand, signaling him to wait.
Her arms extended painfully behind her, so that her breasts jutted forward invitingly, Erika watched fearfully as Lu moved his dark and dusty hands toward her brine-slick breasts.
The blacksmith cupped Erika’s creamy melons in his soot-caked hands, kneading the soft flesh. Placing his big hands on the outer slopes of her breasts, he mashed her tits inward brutally, compressing them with such force that Erika gasped in pain.
“Aghh!” the German beauty moaned, as Slegg increased his pressure on her extended wrists even as the blacksmith crushed her breasts together, coating their outer surfaces with soot, while leaving their inner curves obscenely pale.
Shifting his position slightly, Lu seized Erika’s delicate coral nipples, trapping them between his thumbs and forefingers, the desiccant properties of the coal dust allowing him to trap her moist breast buds in a death grip.
After exchanging a meaningful glance at Slegg, Lu began tugging on Erika’s tender nipples, while the first mate did his best to hold up his end of the tug-of-war, pulling her wrists backward with all his strength, trying in vain to keep Erika’s spine straight and upright while Lu savaged her nipples. But his strength was no match for Lu’s power.
“Crikey, ‘ow about a little ‘elp, ‘ere, Lucky!” Slegg barked and Lucky quickly stepped forward, joining Slegg on the far side of the cot, each man taking one of Erika’s sore wrists.
Between the two men, they were just able to equalize the force being exerted by the sturdy stoker, and the savage tug-of-war continued. Lu continued to tug on Erika’s tortured nipples, even as Slegg and Lucky pulled her wrists backward with offsetting force. Gritting his teeth effortfully, Lucky couldn’t take his eyes off the muscles in Erika’s rounded buttocks as they danced more and more invitingly the longer the torment went on.
In such a cruel competition, there could be no winner, only a loser. The seconds ticked away as Erika’s distended breast-nuggets were stretched from her body with excruciating force as the crewmen looked on, captivated by the night of the young blonde beauty’s throbbing pleasure melons being stretched on this improvised rack.
“By all the gods of the Gobi, he’s got a good grip on ‘em don’t he?” Khasar the Mongol muttered approvingly.
“Pull ‘em harder!” one man cried out.
“Tear her tits off!” roared another.
Erika bit her lip harder, bravely trying not to scream as the primitive but ingenious torture worsened with each passing moment. Finally, after two and a half minutes of agony, she could not suppress her suffering any longer, and she gave vent to a despairing “Aaaiiaahh!”
General Wang had watched the preceding events with absorbed interest. While Erika’s splendid breasts were clearly capable of absorbing a great deal of punishment, her nipples seemed to be unusually sensitive. It would be an interesting avenue to explore in the days and nights to come….
Meanwhile, his vicious mission half accomplished, Lu released his death grip on Erika’s ravaged nipple buds and snatched the tawse from the cot. A moment later Slegg and Lucky released her wrists.
Erika didn’t know whether to massage her aching wrists or to tend to her tortured nipples, but in the end she brought her pale hands forward and cradled her pain-wracked breasts in her hands. She touched the soft tips of her index fingers against her burning breast-nuggets the way one tests a raging toothache with the tip of one’s tongue.
“That’s it, Princess. Hold ‘em out for the nice gentleman,” Slegg rasped as he and Lucky quickly made their way from behind the cot, circling around it to face her. Neither man wanted to be out of position when Lu struck. “But don’t hide them pretty nips from us!”
Suppressing a sob, Erika’s trembling fingertips moved ever so slightly southward, baring her nipples, at once ashy and inflamed.
Lu lifted the terrible tawse and studied his target for the last time. The outer contoour of Erika’s pain-globes, which had only moments ago been models of peaches-and-cream perfection, were blanketed with soot, while their tops and inner curves were pruriently pale by contrast.
His sexual energy having been heightened to a fever pitch by the nipple torment he had administered, Lu lifted the tawse high and slammed it down viciously onto the upper slope of Erika’s right breast.
THWACCCCCCKKKKKK!!
“AAAaaaggggghhhh!!”
Erika’s shriek of pain was so loud that it might almost have been heard on Zhou-shan island.
Lu, exultant with the success of his mighty stroke, let the dreadful tawse fall onto the cot between Erika’s wide-stretched legs. Even as the tortured blonde cradled her throbbing breasts in her hands, the force of the blow caused her to pitch forward violently, nearly falling off the cot before being steadied by Slegg and Lucky.
“ ‘ere, we’ll get that for you, Princess,” Slegg volunteered helpfully, slapping away Erika’s hands. “C’mon, matey,” he encouraged Lucky. “ ’er tits is sore. Let’s give ‘em a nice rub.”
The crewmen of the Yang-tze Dragon looked on amusedly as Slegg and Lucky each cupped a breast in a weathered hand, squeezing her pain-wracked tit-globes roughly, as Erika whimpered softly.
As he did so Slegg cast a glance at Captain Andrew McMahon. “All right, cap’n. That’s six out of eight. ‘oo else we got!”
The burly skipper fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the penultimate slip. “Jasper Slegg!” he bellowed in a surprised tone of voice. It was hard to credit that while Slegg had been the master of ceremonies all afternoon, his own name had never been called.
“Why, aren’t you the lucky one, frowlein?” Slegg taunted the forlorn beauty as he and Froggy released their grip on her aching treasures. “It’s time for your old uncle Sleggie to take a turn. I’m sure ‘e’ll go easy on ye. ‘e’s a lovely bloke ‘e is. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, would ‘e lads?”
Slegg looked down at the hand that had cupped Erika’s breast; it was black with soot. He wiped his hand on his sleeve and snarled, “Clean ‘er tits up, Tranhie. I want ‘em nice and fresh!”
The Vietnamese cook sprang forward with surprising alacrity for a man of his age. But what man wouldn’t jump at the chance to swab Erika’s magnificent mounds? Meanwhile Orang was hauling up another brimming bucket of sea water. The well-built islander unhooked the bucket from the hauling-rope, crossed the deck and upturned its cold, salty contents onto Erika’s naked breasts. The impact of the splash itself washed away much of the ash. As for the rest, Tranh used a corner of the woolen blanket on the cot as a rag, polishing Erika’s creamy mounds. Tranh was successful in wiping away the soot and ash and sweat but only time would fade the livid marks that Tan and Lu had left on the tops of her breasts.
“Good job, Matey,” Slegg mumbled approvingly. “That’s just how I like ‘em!” Slegg moved even closer to his victim, and slid the tawse under each of Erika’s breasts, lifting them for closer inspection. He licked his lips admiringly as a fresh wave of blood-lust surged through his swollen testicles. Despite the tawse marks, he could just make out the narrow, jagged-edge lacerations left earlier by Mawar’s wild swings of the thonged whip. A faint blue vein that ran along the inner slope of Erika’s left breast pulsed noticeably, as if sensing its vulnerability.
“Nice, frowlein. Very, very nice,” he muttered. “But uncle Jasper needs you to slide down this way a bit,” he added, slapping Erika lightly on the right breast with the tawse, indicating that he wanted her to move laterally to his right toward the end of the cot.
Trembling, Erika did as she was told, sidling toward her left until her left knee extended an inch or two beyond the edge of the rudimentary bed.
As she did so, Slegg moved to his right as well, finally taking up a position at the end of the cot. While Tan and Lu had delivered their strokes while directly facing Erika, Slegg was now standing at right angles to her, so that a swift downward stroke with the leather strap would flay the upper slopes of both of her quivering breasts.
Erika shuddered uncontrollably as Slegg, his ugly face masked with malice, slowly lifted the tawse. She closed her eyes tightly and held her breath in fearful expectation of the agony to come. When the blinding pain did not come, and she felt only the rough kiss of the leather brushing the tops of her quivering breasts, she opened her eyes to see that Jasper Slegg had just been practicing, grooving his stroke.
“Keep those pretty blue eyes, open, princess,” Slegg rasped. “I don’t want you to miss this!”
Twice more the vicious first mate practiced his stroke, intent on making sure that the outer edge of the inch-wide strap would find the lovely spot where Erika’s pink, swollen nipples sprang upward and outward from her pebbly areolae.
Then with a vicious snarl, he took the strap up swiftly and swept it downward through the crisp sea air toward Erika’s superb breasts.
Slegg’s guttural “YEAAAGGHHHHH!” was accompanied by the venomous HISSSSSS! of the tawse traveling downward at high speed, follow almost instantaneously by a fearful THWACCCKKKKKK!!! as the terrible tawse exploded across Erika’s naked breasts with dreadful force.
“Aaaiaaaaaaaaaaaghhhh!!!!!”
Erika cried out in agony as the tops of her luscious lust-mounds seemed to burst into flame. Sobbing, she collapsed sideways on the cot, writhing in misery her long legs scissoring uncontrollably. She grabbed once again at the dark blanket, pulling it close against her body, seeking surcease from her suffering.
“Well, lads, how did ye like that one?” Slegg gloated. He brandished the evil strap proudly as three dozen male voices roared their approval.
General Wang looked on approvingly. The crude first mate had been right about the physics of having the victim support the intended target with her hands. He had rarely seen three such punishing blows. And yet … he mused, there was much to be said for the salacious bounce of a well-struck pair of unsupported breasts. It was, he concluded with a satanic smile, a subject that he would pursue at his leisure. He smiled grimly. Erika’s pink-nippled lust-globes would provide a most inviting laboratory for his experimentation.
“All right, frowlein,” Slegg snarled. “Let’s ‘ave a look at those beauties now!” He grasped Erika roughly by the arm and pulled her back up into a kneeling position and tried to rip the blanket from her grasp. Erika clung desperately to the blanket as if it were the last thin thread connecting her to humanity, to mercy, to human decency, but after a brief struggle, Slegg was able to wrest it from her grasp.
“Did I get ‘em good or not, boys? Hot cross tits!” Slegg exulted as he motioned for Lucky and Khasar to each seize Erika by the wrist, while he grabbed a handful of blond hair, pulling her head back and thrusting her throbbing pain-melons forward toward her admiring audience.
Half-blinded by her own tears, Erika glanced down at her aching treasures. Slegg’s description had been an apt one. His stroke had fallen at right angles to those of Tan and Lu, and the patches of breastflesh where his blows and theirs had intersected were ablaze with pain. Nor had Slegg’s practice strokes been in vain. The tough edge of the tawse had scalded the base of her right nipple and had missed the taut little peak of her left breast by less than the thickness of the strap itself.
“Well, cap’n. If my count is on the money, there’s only one stroke to go.”
McMahon reached into his pocket and read the name, “Khasar!” in his stentorian voice.
“Last but not least, big fella! Give ‘er a good one!”
As Erika struggled to reassume her submissive position, Khasar seized the tawse from Jasper Slegg and prepared to strike. The strapping Mongol had known for several minutes that he and Slegg were the last two men in the rotation. Once Erika was in place on the cot, her strap-reddened pain globes proffered for his pleasure and her pain, Khasar hissed, “By all the gods of the Gobi, I’d forfeit a week’s pay to give you twenty of these, wench!”
Then he muttered, “Get her hands, Slegg!” and just as the first mate ripped Erika’s hands away from her breasts, Khasar drew the strap back and struck them dead on, delivering a mighty stroke with a slightly upward trajectory that caught the undersides of Erika’s aching nipples, lifting and crushing her splendid pain-globes.
THWACKKKK!!!!
“OOhhhhh! Gottt!! Gott!! Gott!”
Having had no time to prepare herself physically or mentally, Erika was unprepared for the blinding pain and the blow all but knocked her off the cot. Once again she collapsed sideways on the little bed, pulling the blanket close.
“Well struck, laddie,” Andrew McMahon bellowed approvingly, glossing over the fact that Khasar’s powerful stroke had violated at least the spirit of the agreement that Slegg had sealed with the general about how strokes of the tawse would be delivered.
“Gentlemen,” the red-beared captain went on sonorously, “this concludes the Flogging of the Bells. The sentence has been carried out in accordance with the verdict.”
The crewmen of the Yang-tze Dragon gave vent to a thunderous roar. Each man had played his part in meting out the punishments called for in the captain’s sentence.
Although General Wang had been momentarily irritated by the liberties Khasar had taken, the sight of Erika’s superb breasts being scalded by the big Mongol’s punishing stroke apparently provided ample compensation for his displeasure.
The olive-garbed warlord raised his hand to silence the raucous crew. “Xie xie, Captain. Thank you. It has been a most entertaining and instructive afternoon.” Then he turned toward the members of the crew. “I appreciate your patience, gentlemen and I thank you for honoring my wishes with respect to my prized possession. I promise that you will not regret your bargain. For tomorrow, when we dock at Zhou-shan Island I promise you that there will be young women available who will serve your every need. And if they do not …” The general’s pregnant pause left little doubt that any of the young women he had enslaved who failed to satisfy the sexual whims of the crewmen, no matter how vile, how depraved, would be dealt with most severely.
Another roar rose from the men of the Yang-tze Dragon.
The iron-jawed general continued, “As the Master said, ‘Do not ask others to do you what you are not willing to do yourself’. And so it shall be. Hsi Fong and I will join you in abstaining from sexual pleasure until tomorrow as well.”
The orange-robed mandarin could barely disguise his annoyance with the general’s sudden passion for self-discipline.
Noticing his crony’s irritation, Wang continued, “My friend, desire deferred is desire multiplied. And besides,” he continued sardonically, “while this ship has served its purpose, and my appetites have been whetted as much as your own, you have to admit that our quarters here are neither spacious nor opulent. Should we not taste this delicacy,” he continued, gesturing toward Erika, “in comfort?”
This time it was Captain McMahon’s turn to frown. But of course the general was right. His own cabin was small and serviceable, but hardly one equipped with amorous amenities.
“As for our golden bird,” the general continued, gesturing toward the beauty under the blanket, “Have her injuries tended to, Captain, give her something to eat, and a safe place to sleep.” A cruel smile crept across the general’s face. “She will need all her strength tomorrow.”
The general let his words sink in for a long moment and then he turned and whispered to his rust-robed crony. “After all,” Wang muttered to Hsi Fong, “tomorrow there will be a full moon, will there not?”
Hsi Fong’s eyes lit up in sudden understanding, and his jaw clenched with cruel resolve.
For tomorrow evening they would celebrate the arrival of the full moon in their customary fashion (Ch 149); and this time the victim of their sadistic sexual rites would not be some slender village maiden, but rather the voluptuous Erika Weiss. What a night it promised to be!
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