by Argus, JJ
Eventually, we ran out of paved road and continued on a reasonably smooth dirt road for a time. The brush opened out around us and I gasped at the sight of enormous green covered mountains rising high to left and right. We drove through a quite narrow valley between them, and thence on upwards to our right, climbing one of the mountains. Greenery was everywhere, from massive trees to small, scrubby bushes and long leafy grass, all of it glistening in the intense sunlight.
We stopped at a small gate, and two Asian men holding guns peered in at us, speaking to the driver for a moment before waving us on. We continued our drive, the road steadily climbing for almost another hour before meeting a similar little gate. As before, the men looked in at us, spoke briefly and then permitted us to continue.
It occurred to me that any hopes of escape were growing weaker by the minute, for I had no faintest idea where we were in relation to the airport, nor to anywhere else. What I did come to sense was that we were many, many miles from anywhere I might expect aid of any sort. And that, rather than expecting help from the authorities, I might more likely expect them to aid the people who were my captors.
We moved down over the mountain, and a city was spread out before us. It was a low rising city with a great deal of greenery. The buildings were an odd mixture of cold, blockish concrete and beautiful sculpted stone and clay. The latter were clearly much older, perhaps hundreds of years old, while the former were already decrepit looking. We passed through narrow streets, and large crowds of people on foot and bicycle parted before us. I observed them with great fascination but no hope whatever of assistance from any of them.
We passed several carts drawn by oxen, then through the gate of a tall, sculpted iron fence to stop before a large, beautiful, ancient stone building. Ivy climbed one part of the building, and the corners, windows and door frames were beautifully sculpted, with stylized figures of animals and birds. The ground before the building was covered in well-maintained lawns, beautiful flowering bushes, and bright fountains of clear water.
Our car passed around to the side of the building and stopped before a door. We stepped out and immediately went inside, leaving me little opportunity to feel the soil of China beneath my feet.
The corridors were bright and clean, and quite beautiful, with more sculptures, and paintings adorning walls, doorframes and floors. Most of the open doorways we passed gave onto lovely rooms with tall ceilings furnished with heavy, beautiful oriental furnishings, and I thought that we were surely in some wealthy man's private home rather than, as I had first thought, an office building of some sort.
Yet we passed several people along the hall, men and women both dressed in those drab Mao suits I had seen on the television. All seemed intent on some task, and while all let their eyes stare at me until they passed, none seemed willing to question the two men accompanying me as to their purpose.
Finally we stopped, one of the guards knocked on a door, then pushed it open. We entered a small room which appeared to contain dirty laundry, buckets, large tubs for cleaning, and the smell of soap. Two squat Asian women, both in their forties or fifties, turned to bow, and one of the men spoke to them. The women bowed repeatedly, and after a long moment the two men left.
The women looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and disapproval, but one moved forward at once, undoing the belt of my robe, and pulling the garment free of my body. I felt a slight flush of embarrassment, but made no effort to hinder her as she carried the garment away. The second women, speaking perhaps to herself (for I certainly could not understand her) took my hand and led me across the room to a corner where there sat a large tub. She turned on a faucet and motioned me to stand in the tub. Quickly understanding, I obeyed and she then had me kneel so that she could more easily wash my body.
She fingered the gold rings at my nipples curiously, and seemed quite fascinated by them, then set to work with a sponge and wet clothe, soaking me and then soaping me up. After a few moments the other woman returned, and she knelt beside the first woman, seizing my head and pulling it back sharply, then pouring water over it. As the first cleaned my body, the second woman began to soap up my hair.
They spoke to each other at times, obviously regarding me, and I felt quite disconcerted, wondering what they thought of me and what they were saying. I blushed somewhat as one of the women scrubbed my pubic area, then thrust soapy fingers quite casually up within my vagina. Then, still covered with soap, I was pulled from the tub and made to lay along a narrow bench with my head hanging over one side, my hair dangling, and my legs spread wide apart.
As my hair was shampooed and rinsed the pubic hair which had begun to appear around my sex was carefully shaved off. My teeth were brushed for me, and I was then given a douche, much to my embarrassment. I was then required to bend forward and spread my legs somewhat, and then quite mortified as one of the women gave me an enema.
After that I was washed a final time, then rinsed off. My hair was dried and brushed out until it shone and sparkled, and perfume was applied to my body. I was clad in another long silk robe, this one a beautiful bright red with a white flower across the back.
One of the men who had accompanied me to China then arrived and led me away. We walked some further distance along corridors before coming to a great doorway guarded by two men. They nodded and opened the two doors, and I was led into an immense office. It was perhaps one hundred feet wide, and the largest desk I had ever imagined occupied a space beneath twenty foot high windows across a vast expanse of red carpet.
The man walked me across the room, and I stared about me in fascination, observing the many obvious antiques, their wood glistening and polished, and the sculptures and paintings decorating the walls. I had come quite a far distance from my small flat in England.
We paused before the immense desk, and a slightly plump Chinese man in his middle years examined us. The man accompanying me bowed his head low and did not speak as a full minute passed. Finally the man behind the desk spoke, and he responded, then backed away before turning and leaving the room. I looked at the man before me, then anxiously worrying about giving offence, bowed my head as well.
"You are a beautiful young woman," he said finally.
"Thank you, master," I replied, still looking down.
"Remove your robe."
"Yes, master."
I undid the belt and then, remembering Mistress' teaching, allowed it to part gently, so that he could catch glimpses of my flesh. I ran my fingertips up and down along the edges for a few moments, then gently eased them further open, drawing my shoulders back as I raised my arms, and letting the soft silk slide over my shoulders then gently waft down to the floor behind me.
I stood straight, as I had been taught, with my head bowed. I felt a certain pride in my appearance, for by now I was well acquainted with the lust it inspired in men, but still felt quite anxious before this man, a foreign man of unknown tastes but with obvious power, a man who could, I was sure, do whatever he chose with me or my body.
"You are English, I am told."
"Yes, master," I replied meekly.
"The English have always been an arrogant people."
I bowed, but did not reply.
"I do not like the English."
"I'm sorry, Master," I said, feeling my fear grow.
And yet with it was a sense of indignation, that an ignorant heathen from backwards China should dare to believe himself superior to the people of Britain.
"Come around the desk."
I obeyed at once, pausing before his chair.
"Are you an obedient girl?" he demanded.
"Yes, master!" I said automatically.
"English girls are weak and fragile. Chinese girls are strong and sturdy."
He reached between my legs and cupped my sex, then squeezed hard. I winced and braced myself, but did not move, and yet as he applied more pressure the pain within me grew almost unbearable. His strong fingers dug into the soft, sensitive flesh of my groin, and he loo
ked up at me in expectant contempt as my legs began to tremble.
"Do you think you can please me, English girl?"
"I-I will obey your wishes, master," I gasped, panting for breath through my pain.
He eased his grip and then pushed his chair back completely and spread his legs.
"Do so then," He ordered curtly.
I sank to my knees gratefully, then crawled between his legs. My fingers went to the belt about his waist but he slapped them off, indicating I should only undo his zipper. I did so as he stroked my hair and let it slide between his fingers, then brought his surprisingly long and thick cock out and into my hand. I began to lap at the head, using long, slow licks, rubbing his cock in my hand as I sought to excite him. I licked down the shaft, pushing his zipper opening wider that I might draw out his testicles and mouth them.
I took each one into my mouth as my hands massaged his staff, using my tongue to massage them against the insides of my cheeks as I gently suckled. Then I lapped at the head of his cock, rubbing it against the soft skin of my lips and cheeks as it began to harden. Finally, it was erect, and I took it into my mouth, sliding my lips up and down as my fingers massaged his testicles.
There was a knock at the door, and I heard his voice call out. Moments later a man's voice spoke from the other side of the desk. I could see some movement out of the corner of my eye but did not look up, concentrating on my task. I felt some new embarrassment, but not as much as I would have once.
I continued to bob my head up and down on the man's cock, then, bracing myself mentally, forced myself down fully upon it, feeling the head thrusting up into my throat. I heard a soft grunt of surprise, and knew a moment's pleasure, then as my lips pressed against his groin I felt his hands come down hard against the back of my head to hold me in place.
My tongue licked at the underside of his shaft as he ground my face into his groin, and my mind quivered with anxiety as my chest grew hotter and tighter. I wondered how long he would hold me in place, and whether he even cared if I stopped breathing. I tried to avoid struggling, even as my vision began to grow faint, but pushed up only slightly, even as my desperation grew.
Finally his hands moved back and I quickly slid my lips up and off, gasping for breath as he smirked at me in satisfaction. I gulped in breaths of air as I rubbed his cock around my cheeks, using my hands to massage and caress the long, moist, gleaming length of it until I could once more take it into my mouth.
He barked an order of some kind, but I could not then understand. He pushed me back, then gripped me forcefully by the arm and hair, lifting me and pushing me towards his desk. His chair was pushed in against it, and he bent me across the top so that my bottom was elevated even as he spread my legs. I lay down, my breasts squeezed beneath me against the hard wood, and awaited his attentions with some eagerness.
I had only just come to appreciate the pleasure of being penetrated, and yet the experiences had been only enough to whet my appetite. The excitement of watching the pretty girl being so fully used on the aircraft had left me with a sense of longing to be similarly taken, to be mobbed by lustful men, and yet none had touched me until now.
“We will see how much discipline you possess,” he said.
I had expected to be penetrated by his rigid erection, and yet instead, even as it bobbed strongly before him, he opened a drawer in a cabinet behind the desk and drew forth a long, thin crop of some kind. Turning my eyes, I felt a sudden sense of fear and anxiety.
He moved to stand behind and to one side, then lay the crop along my upraised bottom.
“Be silent,” he ordered.
I swallowed anxiously as I felt the crop slide back and forth along my curved bottom, then gasped as he drew back his arm and brought it down sharply against my hitherto unmarked flesh. I did my best to keep silent against the stinging pain which rippled through my flesh, and to hold my position as he once again let the leather surface of the crop caress my now throbbing flesh.
He brought back his arm once more and again brought the crop slashing down upon my bottom. A second source of stinging pain erupted, and then a third, and a fourth. My fingers were white as they dug into the palms of my hands, and perspiration began to bead my forehead and chest as the pain mounted.
And yet... and yet there was still arousal. My naked, vulnerable position, the excitement of being a prisoner here in the exotic Orient to this obviously powerful man, and the outrageousness of his attack upon my soft flesh all combined to make me quiver somewhat with sexual hunger even as I winced and gasped to the stinging kiss of the thin crop.
And between each blow now he began to let the rough leather tip slip between my trembling thighs and rise up to stroke along my sex, stroking precisely along my neatly shaven slit as he spoke soft words in, I presumed, Chinese. I found myself, oddly, wishing I were bound so that I could more fully fall into the masochistic excitement of being the helpless white prisoner being tormented by the evil oriental.
With my bottom flaring with heat he halted, stepping forward. Without a word or any warning he roughly gripped my thighs to force them wider, and positioned himself at the entrance to my body. Then drove himself into me with a hard, yet smooth stroke that had me shuddering in both pleasure and pain.
He was thick and long, as I had said, and I luxuriated in the sensation of being fully pierced even as my buttocks stung from the feel of his rough trousers pressed against them.
He drew back, then began to pump, quite casually, at first, as his hands roamed familiarly across my body. He reached beneath me to fondle my breasts, pinching and twisting my nipples, then released them, his hands dropping calmly onto my back as his hips moved in and out.
I, of course, remained unmoving, breathing unsteadily as I felt his hips strike firmly against my bottom and his cock pump back and forth within me. The pain began to fade and the pleasure and inner heat grow. The distraction of my stinging bottom eased, and I felt myself growing ever more moist as he pumped more firmly, more powerfully. I spread my arms, allowing my chest to come down more firmly on his desk so that my movements would grind my breasts beneath me.
I gave myself into his use, emotionally, abandoning myself utterly to his desires as I focussed all my attentions on the sensory pleasure now rising through my body.
And then he stopped. He pulled back without word or notice, and moved away. I peeked behind me and saw him carefully replacing the crop. His hand moved indecisively across a number of other instruments in the shadowy interior, then fastened upon one and pulled back. It was, I saw, heart pounding, a flog, a short one. I turned my head quickly away as he returned to me, then gasped as I felt his hand grip my hair and force me to stand.
“Pull your hair up and place your hands upon your head,” he ordered.
My eyes blinking uncertainly, anxiety returned to me, I obeyed, lifting my hair to bare my back and standing before him as he moved back. I knew better than to turn my head with him watching, and yet I felt a nearly unbearable desire to do so as I awaited what he would do.
“Do not move. Do not speak.”
I attempted to brace myself, and he made no objection as I shifted my bare feet apart on the floor. And then I sensed, as much as saw his arm swinging, and the strips of the flog cracked across the centre of my upper back.
I shifted a half foot forward, a soft cry leaving my mouth as the pain, like a dozen needles, rippled across my back. Yet I resumed my position quickly as the flog whipped down once again, moving only a little lower.
It was light in weight, and each strip lighter still. Its impact was certainly not sufficient to drive me forward. Yet the sharpness of the pain almost was. Each strip snapped down against the surface of my skin like a bee sting, the pain crackling across my nervous system like an electrical shock. My body twisted and jerked and trembled, my hips twisting this way and that, my back arching and then bowing. Yet I managed to hold, more or less steady as the flog snapped in again, and again and again, the strips biting at my shoulde
r blades, and the sides of my chest, at my lower back and upper buttocks, setting my entire back afire with sharp, bruising pain.
He halted without warning. I was near dazed and hardly aware of his touch until he had me bent over once again and was thrusting himself into me. As before he used me casually, but deeply, his cock pumping firmly and fully into my exposed sex as my cheek lay pressed against the desk and I stared dazedly at nothing
I felt his fingers reach in to pinch at my inner thighs next to my sex, felt the tips actually gripping my outer lips and forcing them up and apart as he used long, slow, deep strokes, muttering to himself as he forced himself to the hilt inside my panting, now reddened body.
My back ached, and it was difficult to focus on anything else for a time, difficult to feel once again that seductive sense of being used fully as I was meant, yet slowly it began to come once again, as his use continued, and I began to hope that he might ride me to the climax I deserved for his mistreatment.
And yet again he halted, and a sudden anxiety gripped me as he forced me to stand once again. The flog was still in his hand as he turned me to face him, and though his face was without expression I had little doubt as to his intent as he raised it and pressed it up against the underside of my right breast.
I had, obedient to his last words, left my hands on the back of my neck, pinning my hair in place. Now he kicked my legs apart and reached behind to pull on my hair, forcing my head back further, forcing my back to arch and my breasts to thrust out.
“Stand so,” he ordered.
Almost I begged him, yet I knew it would avail me nothing. And I recalled his contempt for the lack of discipline and strength in English girls and a small part of me continued to feel some indignation over this, continued to feel the desire to prove him wrong. I tried to brace myself for the feel of the flog, and yet when it came was unprepared. For it did not fall upon my breasts as I had expected but upon the taut, smooth surface of my belly.