Chinese Justice

by Peter Marriner

  “My name is Nicola Horsham and I was sent here by the British government! I bribed the traitor Xeng! I bribed the traitor Xeng by allowing him to fuck me! I stole the antiquities, the property of the workers. I tried to escape the just indignation of the people! I was a whore and an abuser of young girls and my wickedness has been exposed by the patriotic students!” She repeated her confession, got confused, was well smacked, started again, repeated herself, was smacked for that, grew distraught and was smacked unmercifully.

  Word perfect was not enough. She was made to answer questions upon it too. Her captors took it in turns to supervise her efforts. The squabbling girls changed places frequently, each fresh hand being applied with enhanced zeal. Nicola’s delivery was punctuated by ringing smacks. They were young and slightly built, but their victim well prepared, was sensitive to the lightest spanking hand.

  Nicola became the general butt of cruel humour for her captors. Milly Soong and her satellites left her posed on the horse before and after interrogation sometimes for an hour or more, with only a few junior girls to superintend her. Sometimes she was un-regarded, but more often was the victim of the girls’ crudely ingenious mockery.

  In the gymnasium she had been left astride the vaulting horse as usual having been put through her paces. Her bottom was trembling in the air, striped with several red wheals and behind her the girls who had dealt those stripes were busy examining a sack of assorted vegetables that one of them had brought in, donated by supporters in the town.

  The sight of her elevated behind with both its orifices readily presented combined with the vegetables gave rise to ideas of other uses. The first was inevitably a great green cucumber. The girl who found it, diving into the sack, waggled her discovery merrily at the mob.

  “Now we will see how she likes her vegetables!” There was a yell of gleeful malice at the prospect of that green truncheon being used upon the unsuspecting victim, who began to beg for mercy, not knowing what was planned but knowing that she was in peril of some sort.

  One of the girls at her head, who had taken a bite out of an apple, rammed it between Nicola’s jaws, forcing them wide and completely gagging her cries with its shiny bulk. The other’s finger and thumb spread the captive’s soft bottom cleft wide open so that her anus was displayed between the two slim digits. Nicola gurgled wildly as she felt the firm end of the cucumber press into the brown pucker, not knowing what it might be.

  The girls giggled, kept amused by her tormentor working the big green shaft inch by inch into her tight hole, until at last the cucumber looked like a large green turd half ejected and the recipient was visibly straining to dislodge it. Making a joke of the attempted rejection of the cucumber, the girl pulled it back out with a plop and the distraught Nicola tried to hump herself away from danger. She found the sullied cucumber replacing the apple and was made to suck the filth off its skin until it was restored back to green glossiness.

  Returning with it to Nicola’s rear, her assailant used two fingers upon the other orifice, stretching open her victim’s unused sex-slot so that it’s glistening pink interior was clearly visible to the crowd. Before Nicola could adjust to this new exposure of a part of her still throbbing from the heat of her smacking, it was filled up with something, slippery smooth and icy cold. This time she knew what it was. Her saliva had contributed to its slipperiness. She had prepared it for entry!

  “Imagine that it is the evil Xeng!” Nicola was driven forward against her bonds, squealing as she felt the cold intrusion drive deep and then stick, pushing her sex lips wide apart and hanging as heavy as a bar of lead between her quivering thighs. “Another!” the girls shrieked, groping in the sack for suitable vegetables.

  Again Nicola was in no doubt what was to be used upon her for a carrot was thrust beneath her nose for her to lick, a long red tapering carrot that, when passed back, slid easily up the vacated anus. It felt as cold as an icicle in her hot bowels. It had gone in very deep, almost to the top, only the limp ferny fronds dangling towards the projecting cucumber below.

  Goggling open mouthed, Nicola tried to splay herself wider and push her abdominal muscles with desperate efforts at evacuation as she felt the small fingers prying and scrabbling at the edges of her distorted anal ring, betraying the fact that the carrot had become too solidly lodged. Between her efforts and theirs it came popping out, glistening with her secretions and was passed forward for her to eat and somehow force down the result.

  By this time a monster leek had been turned up, which promptly went, not where the carrot had been, but to replace the cucumber between her thighs. Its smooth blunt end was the difficult part to take, for it had a slight bulge that made it thicker than the rest of the stem. While Nicola mumbled in protest, the resourceful schoolgirls, helped by the slippery texture of the vegetable, managed to screw it into her vagina amid a strong aroma of bruised leek. Slowly the blanched white part diminished in size as she took in more and more. Nicola snorted, crunched and gobbled meanwhile, fragments of carrot being spluttered in all directions in her desire to rid herself of its gagging presence.

  Nine or ten inches of fat white stem finally vanished within her straining channel, leaving only the blue-green plume of tapered leaves protruding like a natural growth from pink sex lips stretched tight around its buried stem and stopped there, presented like a green tail for the rest of her exposure.

  Even when being returned to her prison she was made a mockery of and regularly forced to simulate the action of animals. The first time she was forced to curl up on her back with her knickers still down, her knees wide apart and pressed tight against the sides of her breasts. A bamboo rod was passed across the backs of her knees and her elbows fastened to the outer ends. Many hands lifted her, the girls rolling her forward onto her bottom and then heaving her more upright until when she teetered uneasily on her feet, steadying herself with her finger tips.

  They left her precariously balanced there, tightly doubled up, with her bottom stuck out in one direction and her head and shoulders in the other. She tried to stretch her neck and tilt her head back, but she could see little higher than her captors’ knees. A long piece of wood smacked up smartly under the rounds of her jutting cheeks where her widely parted thighs exposed her pouting vulva and she was forced to move forward away from it, hopping like a frog on hands and knees. Her efforts at being a frog led to her being made to hop all the way back to the storeroom prison with the frequent encouragement of the smacking wood and cruel juvenile laughter.

  The biggest success was the pheasant imitation. The girls had found Nicola’s high heeled sandals and made her put them on. She was fastened wrist to ankles, tottering on the high heels with her thighs held wide by the bamboo rod, while girlish fingers busied themselves overhead, thrusting something long and stiff through the tightly wound knot of her hair. Other fingers fastened a thin cord about her waist from which something similar extended back across her rump and sagged between her out-thrust cheeks. A sharp toe prodded her insistently into motion. She saw out of the corner of her eye, reflected in a glass door panel, her own passing image, stalking ridiculously stiffly, with a tall feathered crest nodding in time to her movements and a long tail of feather plumes extending behind her like an exotic bird flirting up and down in exaggerated emphasis of the waggling motion of her backside.

  The laughter reached a high as the boot-toe prodded more insistently and fearing a smack might come next, Nicola was forced to speed up, the high heels clacking noisily and the feather tail swishing wildly as she staggered desperately to keep her balance and run at the same time. She was paraded through the corridors of the school driven on by her tormentors and meeting tittering girls at every turn. for whose amusement she was made to squawk, cluck and quack, encouraged by a few sharp smacks under her rump.

  Not until they grew bored was Nicola finally returned to her prison to nurse her throbbing flesh once more and trying to pull
herself together, anxiously repeating the confession to herself, like a child afraid of her mentor’s wrath.

  It took innumerable painful sessions to bring Nicola to the point where she could not only to repeat the sequence correctly, but be able to begin at any word chosen at random by her interrogator and finish the sentence, then at last, even to be able to repeat the whole thing in reverse order.

  Returning to her prison after one such session, Nicola made little protest at being taken into a large white-tiled shower room, nor at being soaped and scrubbed like a life-size doll by the two young girls who escorted her; despite their diminutive size, they were more than a match for her in her exhausted state. She had been harried from one moment to the next ever since she had been dragged from the collapsed wreckage of the roof light. She had lost all sense of reality and hardly knew if she had been captive for days or weeks.

  She was astonished, though, when the pair, after carefully securing the door, stripped off themselves and took her with them, all three naked under the same shower. The water was hot and soon the shower closet was filled with steam and spray, noisy with female giggles and squeals.

  Nicola was propped, half fainting and weak at the knees, between the two wriggling naked young female bodies. Soft fingers cupped her sudsy breasts and others slipped soapily between her trembling thighs. Starting in nervous reaction, the flustered captive felt her tender cheeks smack wetly into a girl’s soapy belly. She jerked back, slipping in the wet basin and impaling herself further on the questing fingers.

  “Milly Soong says you are wicked woman!” one of them shrilled breathlessly. “We two, wish for orgasm for selves. You must show us how to get orgasm!”

  Her cry of protest was weak. She was breathless with panic; her wet and soapy hands skidded and slithered on youthful flesh as she tried to fend off the would-be knowing teenagers.

  “Help us, wicked woman! We help you!”

  Exhausted of all resolution, Nicola slid to her knees, grovelling amid the bare legs and thighs, hot water splashing on her head and back. Only the firm grip of one of the girls in her wet hair saved her from being trodden underfoot. In weak surrender, she wound up with her face between a pair of girlish thighs, her nose almost into a sparsely haired pussy. The second pair of thighs softly cupped her bottom, making it blaze with heat, reminding her of the possibility of punishment. The girl curved her agile young body to fit Nicola’s back. “Show us wicked Western way!” she whispered in Nicola’s ear.

  Water cascading over a pale belly and running between the other girl’s slim thighs dribbled from the childishly naked vulva onto Nicola’s up-turned face like a running tap. She used her fingers to spread and stroke the crinkled flesh, exposing what lay within and mumbling earnest instruction. Then, driven on by her pupil and afraid that if she left the girl there, the would-be voluptuary might be disappointed and Nicola get the blame, she took the eager learner the whole way, using her tongue in the teenager’s soft fleshy crevices.

  Delighted by the ecstatic result, the girl insisted upon returning the favour. Mouths, tongues and fingers played with Nicola experimentally and intimately. A finger shot wetly up her anus, drawing from her a startled squeal. Small fingers caressed her intimately. Distraught, Nicola resorted to faking an orgasm for the two industrious girls, hoping their inexperience would let her get away with it.

  Of course the second girl, excited by observing the reactions first of her friend then Nicola herself, had to be given her own orgasm. By this time the hot water had run out and they towelled one another dry, then made a kind of bed from a heap of clothing and towels on the tiled shower-room floor, amid which she and her second juvenile collaborator engineered another first-time orgasm. The girls were inexhaustibly curious and, when they reluctantly called a halt, Nicola returned to her prison on her hands and knees, and almost incapable of rising from that posture.

  Chapter Three

  “I confess... ” Nicola was standing on the platform in the school hall where she had once sat enthralled while petite girl dolls sang and performed a pretty ribbon- swirling dance in her honour. This time she was repeating her confession before the assembled pupils and was equally the focus of their eyes. She had been led up to the platform, paraded between the rows of neatly blue uniformed schoolgirls seated in whispering rows. She had been made to mount the steps into full view and bow deeply to the judges, a row of older girls seated behind a long table. She had to stand by, bowing while the two girls who had seduced her into sex-games in the showers were brought up to stand beside her. The speeches and harangues were interminable, the shrill din bewildering, assaulting Nicola’s ears. At last she and her co-collaborators were turned to face the body of the school rows of round pale faces dark beady eyes and now with open mouths, no longer still in their seats but bouncing up and down chanting shrill condemnation.

  Red face vying with the colour of her hair, she stood before them, wrists handcuffed behind her, bobbing ludicrously up and down, repeating her humiliating confession in a trembling voice, only to be made to speak louder, while Milly Soong translated at suspicious length and the aroused girls ooohed and ahhhed.

  “... I am a whore and an abuser of young girls and my wickedness has been exposed by the patriotic students!” Nicola’s piece came to a wobbly end.

  In mounting to the stage, she had passed the heavy piece of wooden apparatus that stood to one side, only half regarding it, her mind entirely engrossed by her exposure to this juvenile audience, eager to witness what she hoped would be her final humiliation. Now her attention was drawn to the contraption as it rumbled forward on small wheels. It was a stout box with a leather top and standing at one end a T-shape, the cross beam having three half circles and several dangling leather straps.

  Its use was swiftly demonstrated to Nicola. The girl on her right, sobbing theatrically, turned and stepped forward to kneel with her trouser-clad thighs against the box and then bent forward with her belly across the cushion to place her neck and wrists in the hollow places on the crosspiece. It was a kind of mobile pillory, evidently a piece of flagellatory apparatus very familiar to these delinquent girls, presumably well used in the school for the punishment of juvenile offenders.

  The girl’s neck and wrists were strapped down to the bar and her knees strapped to the corners of the box. Her blue trousers were then undone and dropped about her thighs, revealing a round little bottom in white cotton knickers thrust slightly out and rearwards. The executioner was an older, taller girl who wielded a long bamboo cane. A dozen strokes smacked into the helplessly presented bottom in quick succession, leaving visible straight lines of frayed white cotton across the chubby curves, the girl howling at every stroke.

  Nicola expected to be next and made as if to step forward, her heart pounding in fright, but there was a general chorus of giggles and she was obliged to resume her place while the other girl, weeping copiously, took the place of her sobbing schoolmate and received the same sentence in the same manner. Still Nicola was kept waiting, trembling while more speeches and harangues took place. She could almost have begged to be thrashed to end the tension of anticipation.

  At last, impelled forward by her escort, she was set before the pillory at right angles to the audience. The apparatus was meant for the victim to kneel with her belly resting on the cushion and fastened at the knees, but it was designed for considerably smaller bodies than Nicola’s. She knelt with her knees against the box and bent forward to lay her neck in the central half-circle. The broad leather strap was drawn tight across her nape, trapping her head in the pillory. Her wrists were unshackled and then refastened with the straps one into each hollow either side of her head. Her stature and long legs made this posture quite ridiculous, with her bottom either sticking out or into the air and her belly barely brushing the cushion.

  The harangue resumed above her head, while Nicola squeezed tight the cheeks of her bottom, her fists and her
eyes in a ferment of anxiety. Then her knickers were pulled down. She was to take her punishment on the bare! She tried to hold still, but the cool air on her naked bottom made it feel hopelessly exposed, stuck right up before all the girls. Did she hear a collective gasp? But the shrill, hectoring voice did not falter and the first stroke came completely out of the blue. Without warning the cane whistled down across her temporarily relaxed flesh. Nicola let out a howl of agony, too much caught by surprise to repress her reaction even before all those critical observers. It was far more painful than the wooden bat had been, like a thin line of fire sliced across her bottom from one side to the other. She writhed wildly, tugging at her wrists and trying to jerk her head back trying instinctively to reach back and protect her rear.

  “Nooo... Pleeease -” She knew it would do no good, though. Sure enough her plea was cut off abruptly by the whistling descent of the cane, landing only an inch or two below the first. She could clearly feel the throbbing pain with two distinct sources and both cutting deep into her quivering flesh. She heard an animal whining sound and realised it was her own reaction. But before she could repress it, another stroke of the cane broke that resolution. With only three burning wheals across her bottom and how many more to come she could only guess at, she was begging for mercy as pitifully as her fellow offenders before her.

  As her punishment inexorably continued, she lost her head and repeated her public confession, howling in desperate propitiation.

  “I confess... I am a whore... I confess... an abuser... exposed... patriotic students... rightly punished... fully deserved... ”

  All through her ordeals, Nicola had continued to nurse a guilty secret. She was constantly being told that she would be taken for second trial for her more serious crimes and if that raised a faint idea of lawyers, judges, proper procedure, it also reminded her of what she hadn’t yet confessed nor yet been punished for. She had killed a scooter rider. She hadn’t confessed because the fiendish girls hadn’t found out about it. Would that continue to be so? What would be her punishment if they found out?