The hard-headed Zhao was far from certain that he believed in such things as spirits and magic, for the magicians he had every met were charlatans to a man, and their alleged “magic” nothing but shoddy tricks for the edification of ignorant peasants. Nor he had ever personally witnessed any sort of spirit, either the allegedly malevolent kuei, or the supposedly benevolent shen. But somehow, he was unable to completely dismiss the unsettling feeling that Bo Lien was not wholly of this world. Indeed, she did not appear to be a creature of flesh and blood only, but seemed to be composed of materials not found in nature, like a cloud-spirit, or some similar being of the supernatural realm. In short, Zhao was a little afraid of the Lotus’ almost unnatural beauty, although he did not admit this to even himself, and very possibly did not even realize it. This fear produced in Zhao an urge to treat the girl with even greater harshness than he did his other servants, both to prove to his own satisfaction that she was only an ordinary human being after all and to punish her for making him uncomfortable.

He untied the string holding the leather mask that stretched tightly over Bo Lien’s face, then helped her to work the spittle-soaked wooden block out from her jaws. “You will answer all my questions with perfect candor, and you will keep back nothing from your future husband. This, along with perfect obedience, is the most important attribute of a dutiful wife,” he told her.

He walked around behind her, noting with silent approval that she was still holding the position in which he had left her, although her legs were beginning to tremble badly. He did not think she would be able to continue to stay up on the tips of her toes very much longer, but she had already maintained the pose for far longer than he had expected. This was enough to demonstrate to Zhao the extent of Bo Lien’s submission, for now.

“You may place your feet on the floor,” he told her, “but you shall remain as instructed otherwise.”

Grateful for even this small concession, Bo Lien relaxed the cramped muscles of her legs, lowering her heels to the ground.

Zhao now reached one hand up between her legs to spread open her mound and slip two fingers into the warm, silken pocket. As he had been standing where Bo Lien could not see him, she did not know that before he inserted his fingers, he had coated them with cream from a jar that had been hidden in the pocket of his robe. This cream was another product of the Kingdom of Wo, which Zhao had acquired on one of his trading expeditions to the islands. It had the effect of sensitizing and inflaming the female sexual parts to such a degree that a normally functioning young woman would be quickly become very highly aroused when it was applied to her erotic areas. Zhao hoped that on Bo Lien, who he had already discovered was rather more easily excited than usual, the cream’s effect would be extraordinary.

He silently massaged the greasy salve into her fleshy pocket, then took control of her love button, turning it back and forth between his fingertips. As he had hoped, she responded immediately, her pelvis undulating in little circles that mimicked the motions of Zhao’s fingers. Her pulse grew steadily faster and her breathing more shallow and rapid as he continued.

“You claim to be chaste, yet you roll your hips like a common slut the moment I touch you, and your untouched …” he gave this word heavy, sarcastic emphasis “…channel runs like a river,” Zhao said at length. This was nothing less than the truth, for moments after Zhao fingers had invaded her, Bo Lien’s cleft had become inundated. “Explain to me then, how this can be or else admit that you are no less a slut than your half-sisters, and accept your punishment for your fabrications.”

As she had in fact been both chaste and truthful, Bo Lien had no explanation to offer. She was confused and ashamed by the way her body responded so readily and uninhibitedly to Zhao’s caresses, and she found it increasingly difficult to think or to carry on even a simple conversation while the great waves of sexual excitement raced through her young body and beat at her brain. She tried her best, stuttering, stopping and starting as Zhao’s clever touch made her thoughts scatter like a flock of doves overtaken by the shadow of a hawk.

“I… I cannot say… say what… oooh… I mean to say, why I am… ahh, honorable sir, when you touch the way you do, I… ahhhh! I cannot help myself …” the distracted Lotus said falteringly.

Zhao smiled grimly. The Precious Lotus was more apt to his hand than even he had hoped. Never had he known a female so easily brought to such a state of excitation. He dipped more of the salve on the fingers of his free hand, then reached down and forward toward the supine girl.

“Bend your back, chest up, belly down!” he snapped. Bo Lien was as lithe as a young sapling, and she responded immediately, raising her upper torso to shape her body into a graceful curve, and thereby offer her delicious little breasts to his hands.

Zhao caught up one nipple in his fingers. He chuckled softly in his throat when he found it to be distended and elongated even before it had been touched. He removed his other hand from her now overflowing sex, causing Bo Lien to moan, “Please don’t…” before she was able, with a great effort of will, to stop herself from begging for him to continue to stroke her.

She need not have troubled herself, as Zhao well understood her unfinished thought. “Do not despair, Bo Lien, for I will satiate your lust in time, after you have begged me prettily. But now I wish to see how hot your flame will burn, for I enjoy a lively bedmate,” he said. He rolled both little nubs in his fingers, now pressing harder, now more softly, now gently tugging and twisting the taut heads, until her body writhed beneath him as madly as before, when he had been toying with the slippery stamen hidden inside her jade gate.

“Shall I stop now, O pure daughter of a Duke?” he asked, twirling the bulbs of flesh a little faster. “For I will stop, if you think I am being over-familiar.

“Ahh… ahh… no, no, do not stop… it is so good, the feeling… you must not stop…” Bo Lien gasped. She did not truly know what she was saying now, or rather the words came unbidden, formed not by her mind but forced out by her body’s overwhelming need.

“Perhaps you would like me to stroke your lute strings again,” he suggested, pausing with her nipples still in his hands.

“Yes, yes… please touch me there, I beg you Master Zhao!” she burst out.

In a moment, his fingers were in her sheath again, and his long fingernail was strumming her love button as though it was in truth a lute. Each touch made the girl cry out from shafts of pleasure so intense they could hardly be distinguished from pain.

“Ah! Ah! Ahhh!” she shrieked. She wriggled her lower body lewdly. “You must stroke me, sir! Rub me, stroke me, I beseech you, or I will surely go mad!”

“First you will admit that the Precious Lotus is no more pure than a common slut,” Zhao commanded, suddenly withdrawing his finger.

“Yes, yes it is true!” Bo Lien shouted in extremis of sexual need and ready to say or do anything for relief. “I am a slut, a dirty whore! Please now, I will die if you do not touch me!”

“Very well,” Zhao said. “I will this one time cater to your shameless lust. But be aware that I will not always be so solicitous.” His fingers seized the oily stem inside her womanhood and vigorously rubbed it for a few seconds.