Slaves of Xi Ling

His hips moved in a semblance of fucking as she brought him to two climaxes. One of pain and one of rape with the soles of her blood-soaked feet.

The audience of women on the balcony clapped politely and commented, appreciating the subtle contrast of pain that was so intense that the only outcome could be pleasure.

Adam could not decide if he was witnessing a barbaric ritual or a work of art. Every move seemed to be calculated to heighten the senses of victim and audience.

The terrible cuts on his back started to take the form of a Chinese character. A capital 'T' with cross strokes on the vertical. This too was part of the art of punishment.

Even the eight lucky strokes and the character written in pain had significance.

Blood splashed on the breasts of the artist who was performing to the edification of all but her victim, Garry. It trickled from the points of her nipples and onto the sand.

Then there was more liquid on the sand as sweat, blood and finally sperm flowed on to the sand between Garry's thighs.

This final convulsion as the eighth stroke tore at his back was greeted by appreciative noises from all but Adam and of course Garry who was in so much pain that he was almost unaware of the pleasure that had been forced from him.

This was the first taste of Xi Ling's revenge. That Lo Liluoang had refused his lover permission to carry out the revenge was after all so fitting.

There was so much more to appreciate as a spectator and Lo Liluoang's torturer had so much grace and flair for her horrific job that she made a mere caning into a lotus bloom of so much beauty that the victim was pleasured by the pain.

Garry had passed out but his body shivered as the masseur applied a vinegar sponge and cleaned the blood from his back to reveal the single symbol that had been cut in eight strokes of the cane instead of the seven strokes of a calligraphic brush.

The character for revenge. Seven strokes of the pen and eight of the cane. Two strokes so artfully placed that they seemed one.

Now that he had been marked for punishment the real revenge would begin. Supervised by Xi Ling, administered by a young girl and sanctioned by a Chinese Warlord

Part The Tenth.

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The Thousand Cuts.

We Europeans are so innocent, so naive. We invent devices like the strappado, bastinado, lash, rack and brodequins. We wince at the kiss of the whip and cry out when put on the treadmill. We deal pain like tyros, children.

On the other hand, the Chinese consider every activity that man undertakes to be an art form. From eating, fucking, fighting and pissing they make ritual and grace. Torture is that most intimate of contacts. It can be likened to sex and love, but it is far deeper still.

That intimacy and the enveloping relationship that hangs like a spider thread between the victim and the emotive dealer of pain is heightened when that dealer in intimate agony is a woman.

Better yet that she is a young girl, never loved by a man and never taken any way down the road of sexual knowledge. Pleasure through love and trust, pain with art.

That she discovers heightened senses and gratification from pain is the aim of her master or mistress. Then she will do her work for the love of it. She cannot be subverted by victim or the victim's friends and family. Obdurate in her profession and skilful in its achievement.

Single-mindedly she will pursue the goal of information or revenge without straying from the path that leads eventually to anguish, agony and death for her victim and her ultimate gratification.

The consummation of torture with love.

*****

Adam found himself in a small room that sat high in the single tower of the fortress. There was a low bed with elegant but robust carving. A tall lacquered chest that proved to be full of cotton robes and shutters to close the barred windows against the elements.

If he had not seen Garry carved with a cane and experienced the terrible trip to this remote place he might have thought himself to be a guest rather than a prisoner. If he had not been fettered with steel that went from the collar on his neck to a hole in the ceiling he would have had hope that Xi Ling had realised that he, Adam, was innocent. He had had no part in her awful humiliation, rape and caning at the house of the Red Gates.

But there was little hope for Adam and certainly no need for restraint on the part of Xi Ling.

Every day he counted a day by marking a discrete fingernail mark on the lacquer of the bed. Only food arrived, there was nothing to do but build up his apprehension of the events to come.

The caning of Garry had been fully deserved, decided Adam. Garry had reaped the reward of his ungentlemanly conduct in spades but now Adam had decided that Adam was his main priority. The thought of him being caned while made to climax to an appreciative audience was too much to bear. He, Adam, just had to survive and get out, alive!

After eight strokes of his fingernail lined the lacquer of the bed the girl who entered at his normal meal time did not appear. The sun rose and was beginning to fall from the sky when the door opened and the young girl that had caned Garry entered.

Dressed in a red cotton shift she seemed the model, the very image of innocence. Young, slender and delicate. But Adam had seen those hands swing the punishing rod and the feet that twisted pain to pleasure.

Following her in was Xi Ling. She made no attempt to converse with Adam she just watched as her servant did her work. He felt her hands push him and he went. His heart clapped like a steam engine and his breath came in gusts in his terror at being handled by this slip of a girl. But he obliged and allowed him to be placed in the exact centre of the room.

She uttered a word loud in Chinese and the chain was pulled by an unseen helper in the room above. It moved slowly, link by link. Adam wondered if this was to be his fate. To be strangled by degrees for the pleasure of these two beauties?

Now he had to lift his heels from the floor as the chain tightened. It made his breath come in gasps. The collar started to close his throat and windpipe making him light headed.

A small sharp shout and the chain stopped pulling at his neck. It left him on the tips of his toes strung and presented in the centre of the room like a marionette. The puppeteers smiled and stripped him of his simple robe to leave him naked and ready for their attention.

Xi ling dangled a pair of handcuffs before his eyes and said something in Chinese.

"I am so sorry, I do not understand!" he assayed in English but she was not interested in his words. What she wanted could be indicated with clarity.

With a smile she moved her wrists behind her pert behind in indication of her desire.

Adam complied and felt his wrists being fettered. The slight movement caught him off balance and hanging by the collar for a moment. But there was no reaction from the two evil angels, they just watched him regain his equilibrium and manage to stand once again on the balls of his feet.

Xi Ling sat on the bed with a little comment to her servant and laughed. To the struggling Adam it was as if he was not really there, this could not be real, this was some dream that had crowded rational thought from his mind.

But it was real.

The young torturer shed her cotton robe to reveal her naked body. Not just naked. Every tuft, strand and lock of hair had been removed from her body. Under her arms and between those soft thighs shone only the clear white tone of her skin.

Without shame she allowed her mistress and her victim to see every fold of her intimate parts. That keyhole-like opening that led to the tunnel of her sex. Breasts, not tiny, but small, pointed and with dark nipples that stood like little caps on her mounds.

With a look at Xi Ling and her own chuckle she began her work. Taking Adam's surging prick in her small hands she started to manipulate him. Pulling gently, so gently, she strengthened his erection and stiffened his cock. But her little tugs on him moved him forward as he thrust, pulling the collar at his throat.

And this was the game!

Make him thrust. Catch that delicate balance between risk, need and pleasure. Watch him thrust, a built in reaction to her hands on his prick and then watch him choke as he pushed into her hands.

Every thrust made Xi Ling laugh with pleasure as she enjoyed this most strange torture. As Adam choked and then, light headed, recovered each time, he came closer to climax. Like waves on a beach the girls changed the level of the water but the incoming tide was inevitable.

Just before that final climax, the hand left him hanging! Gasping for relief, red faced and pleading. He pleaded to be released, he pleaded for her to give him release and he pleaded to give release.

But the two girls just laughed and linked arms as they left the room.

For a few minutes Adam hung, trying to find the point of balance. But it eluded him and he had to keep his feet moving to catch his breath. Slowly his erection faltered and forgot how close it had been to satisfaction at the hands of that vixen.

A new noise entered the room that was his cell, the sound of a door slamming. The sound of Garry's voice, loud and angry and then suddenly quiet. The sound of furniture in the next room being shifted and the sounds of the voice of the young woman whose pleasure and duty was the pain of her mistresses victims.

For a while there was silence disturbed by the voices of the two women and then cries of protest. The deep voice of Garry carried through the upper levels of the tower and into the courtyard below. It made the passersby look up and then grin in realisation of the two 'satisfactions of life'.

That they were not the victim taking part in the proceedings and that there was always someone who had a much worse life.

Even Adam could not begin to guess what was happening in the neighbouring room. The voices and noises left no clue and he was so distracted by his own predicament that the thought that Garry was suffering scarcely entered his head.

Then came a howl of pain from the next room. Animal and brutal it rattled Adams nerves as Garry suffered some terrible pain.

The scream turned to sobbing of a most piteous sort as the two girls came back to Adam to pay him another visit. Xi Ling stood by the door as her servant, that flower or torturers, briefly showed her blood covered hands to her next victim.

Adam found that he neither could nor even find the breath to plead for mercy before she took his flaccid cock and started to bring him once again to climax. With a background of sobbing and the chuckles of Xi Ling he was brought to a climax.

The blood spattered naked girl, the terrible sobs from the next room, the laughing of Xi Ling and the grip on his throat all conspired to confuse and bewilder his mind. In the end it was the need for the release that drove him to wash her delicate hands with his emission.

She rubbed her hands together, blood and semen and her little tongue assayed a taste of that pleasure and pain.

*****

That was the start of a strange three months of fear and pleasure for Adam. Powerless in the hands of the two female tyrants he suffered at their hands.

Oftimes they had it in mind to cane him. Not the regal punishment that Garry had suffered but a thin wisp of an ivory cane that was used on his backside as they made him come.

Every torture was accompanied by that physical pleasure and gratification. Every action of gratification was mingled with some sort of pain.

The two emotions, feelings, became mixed and melded into a single complete satisfying whole in his head. To have pleasure given then pain was the spice that had to be liberally sprinkled on the pleasure.

Always in the background was the torture of Garry that was proceeding in the next room. Ever a presence, ever a fear inducing background to his own struggles to come to terms with this life as a sexual marionette. He was becoming a hobby for his tormentress, an experiment in sexual training of the most extreme sort.

After a month Garry's cries became noticeable weaker as if he had no energy, as if the constant pain had worn him to a stub and left nothing to show as a reaction.

It was seldom that Adam wondered what was happening. He just knew that Garry was doomed and his own survival was hanging by a thin silk thread. When the two women entered the room, Xi Ling never participated; she just watched, laughed and enjoyed the flair and invention that was shown by her evil minded servant.

It seemed to Adam that she occasionally suggested activities to her companion but usually she was more than content to watch and just be surprised by fecund talent.

The scars of the canings never stayed long on Adam's body. They faded and were overlaid by new marks. The ebony ring that encircled the base of his cock ensured that he stood rigidly to attention as needed.

One day Xi Ling handed her confederate a long box with a giggle. Inside it, as the stricken Adam saw, was a large carved jade prick.

They used this many times on his long suffering body. They never let him climax for several weeks without having been fucked by the jade cock at least once. In the end it became the symbol of release.

Just the sight of it made his manhood point and expect treatment. When it entered him and pushed home, he came without having been more than stroked a little by hand and caned with that vicious little ivory twig that gave so much pain for so little effort on the torturers behalf.

Eventually Garry was no longer to be heard. There was no more moaning in the night, no more screams of pain and no more sobbing during the day.

It seemed that there was no more Garry.

Xi Ling had managed nearly three months of terrible revenge on the man who had raped and misused her but still Adam did not know what had been done to his companion.

*****

The door opened. In the background of the corridor there was activity. A large cloth bound bundle was taken past. Then a strange criss-cross wire form that was in the shape and size of a man. Then came Xi Ling and her usual companion. They stood before him and glanced over their shoulders at the activity outside.

Then they used sign language to explain what had happened to Garry. Xi Ling passed several pieces of wire to her servant and then pulled out a tiny, but razor sharp knife.

The wire was criss-crossed on his arm until squares of flesh pushed like pieces of chocolate though the wire. Xi Ling mimed paring off the flesh with her flensing knife and smiled as the knowledge of events in the cell next door finally took root in Adam's mind.

That was the wire suit Adam had seen.

Garry had been pushed into it and then the wire had been twisted to tighten the enclosure of his soft flesh, pushing his skin through the wire like an evil tourniquet that covered the whole of the body.

Then over the weeks, he had been pared to nothing like a soft fruit.

That was Garry's terrible death.

The death of a thousand cuts.

Part The Eleventh.

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Pain for pleasure.

It was if he had been the light relief for Xi Ling after the intense gratification of seeing the American pared down to raw meat in the next room.

Now he was a reminder of her shame and had to be disposed of. She was not inclined to have him executed. First he had to be prepared. A male concubine, a servant of a woman's flesh is not easy to create. A slave that needs to be punished is even more of a trial.

A man has an innate superiority that must be broken down before he can become the plaything of a woman. Superiority of sex and superiority of his strength. Xi Ling entered Adam's mind and raped his consciousness. She proved that woman is master of man and that the yin always shapes the yang.

What I know is that when Adam was led from the chamber in which he had been confined for three months he was in many ways a different man.

He had become a man whose whole object in life had been so focussed on survival that he was able to bend to any circumstance.

He had lost his preconceived ideas about sex, the pleasuring of the flesh and of love. Because he had started to love his tormentress'. When they came to him his heart leapt for joy and when they left he was in the doldrums.

He had not lost the need to escape back to his real life but he had become patient and stern of resolve to overmaster his captivity and to use that one chance to escape that presented itself in a proper way.

On the other hand he had become a slave to the feet hands and mouth of the woman who caned and punished him. She never asked for sex in return. She never took his service in lieu. She took her pleasure from his pain. That was an intimate transfer without contact.

He knew in his heart of hearts that no matter how strong he was he would be the slave of the woman who knew his secret need to be punished as he was gratified.

Now came a phase in his life which passed like a dream on a summer evening. They moved him to a bright room in the tower with screens on the windows and a low bed on the floor. From the window he saw the days pass and the people below lived their ordinary lives.

But at night Xi Ling came with her servant of pain and tormented him, twisted his psyche and made him suffer pain and pleasure.

As the light of the day faded into that orange and peach of sunset a servant would arrive with pitchers of clean cold water. Without a word the gwailo would be sluiced down and cleansed. No soap, but a flour like sand would be rubbed against his skin to wear away the accumulation of sweat and grime from the night before.

Then he would be rubbed with salve. It softened the skin and quickened the healing of the previous days punishments.

All of this preparation was but the build up, the crescendo of activity that would prepare Adam for the ordeal of the night. Because night was the time that he would suffer the ministrations of Xi Ling and her devilish accomplice in crime.

Finally he was alone to think about the coming hours. His heart beating so fast that there was a rushing sound in his ears and his whole body was quivering in time with the beat of his heart.

Finally, naked, brushed, cleansed and taut with the tension of the interval, Adam heard the arrival of these two devils clothed in the flesh of woman.

First there would be an interminable tumble of keys in locks and low voices. Then the door would swing wide to admit Xi Ling and her friend.

Like lovers they entered the cell. Hand in hand they slipped in, hips swinging, bumping. Tight silk and low sandals. Each day Xi Ling would bring in some item and ceremoniously hand it to her companion with a little bow and a few words in Chinese.

Every day it would be accepted with a light kiss that brushed lips and cheek.

Then Xi Ling would seat herself on the bench that ran under the window. Her lips parted and hands working to free her from her robe.

She sat without shame, with her legs apart allowing her captive to appreciate her delicate sex. Parted ivory flesh with a vertical peach slit. Folds and clefts of delicate membrane that lured the eyes to a hint of darkness deep within.

Then the ritual would begin. As Xi Ling serviced her hungry cunt with hands or the ivory prick that she always brought, her companion would excite her with a delicate theatre show of agony and ascendant pleasure as she made Adam suffer.

Xi Ling filled the chamber with her little cries of exaltation while new hurts sprang like corn from the field of Adams flesh.

Sometimes it was a cane or steel whip. Fiery lines etched over his back like ley lines to his soul. Sometimes he bled, often it was just dark bruises that kissed his flesh. Sometimes it was ivory or steel that nipped and pinched the flesh. Pins and rods, mechanisms, apparatus' of pain. Used subtly and delicately by sensitive hands that knew instinctively the placement of every nerve in his wracked body.