The Yangtze River runs from the port city of Shanghai to the foothills of the
Tibetan Plateau almost 4,000 miles.  It has been called the ‘main street’ of China and
divides the northern and southern regions of that ancient land.  For centuries, the river
has served as a lifeline for commerce between the eastern and western parts of that
nation.  
      In April, 1922, the bend of the Yangtze at Junshan, about 350 miles, as the bird
flies, from Shanghai, was controlled by the warlord Wang Ku.  Wang was the absolute,
brutal master of approximately 400 square miles of territory ranging from Chengshu in the
west to Baling in the east.  His writ ran about ten miles from each bank of the river,
straddling the border between Hunan and Wuhan Provinces.  It included the busy, port city
of Yeuyang.  His large, stone fortress, dating back to the 13th century, sat on a 500’
high prominence in the middle of the Junshan peninsula, which, looking at a map of the
river appears as a huge camel hump.
      The river winds slowly here unlike its headwaters to the west where narrow gorges
constrict its flow and make the river sometimes treacherous.  From the upper reaches of
Wang’s fortress you can see for several miles in each direction, and the vista includes
the town of Yeuyang and much of the river that stands within his domain.  
      Wang’s army, on which his power rested, numbered about 350 men, more than enough to
control the river traffic and to force the British trading companies in Shanghai to pay a
small king’s ransom to protect the shipments of opium and other goods on which much of
their profits depended.  That and the tolls that Wang extracted from each river traveler
made Wang a very wealthy and powerful man.
      On this date in April, 1922, Wang was getting ready to celebrate his fiftieth
birthday.  He had been the practical ruler of his domain for over twenty years.  He was
the proud owner of a British made, three decker, paddle wheeled steamboat and he was
making ready to begin his spring visit to the great metropolis of Shanghai.  It took four
days to navigate the Yangtze by steamboat from Yeuyang, where his boat was docked, to
Shanghai.  He would stay there for the better part of two weeks and then return.  He had
business interests in the sinful city and liked to make the trip at least four times a
year to check up on them.  There were certain arrangements he had to make before he left,
cargo that had to be gathered and loaded, and instructions to his underlings and retainers
to be left.  As we find him on the 7th day of April, 1922, he is about to perform a ritual
that he engages in on every occasion that he spends any considerable time from his
castle.
      He is in the well appointed, sumptuous quarters that serve as home to his three
concubines.  Concubinage is an ancient custom in China and the three women that currently
serve him as virtual sexual slaves are kneeling before him, foreheads to the floor, their
exquisite silken gowns pulled up around their waists, their delicate, porcelain
hindquarters presented for their master’s whip.  He will be away from them for more than
three weeks and it is important for him to give them all a reminder of their duties to him
and the consequences of disobedience.
      Wang customarily uses a three foot long, thin, bamboo rod to discipline his women. 
It is thick enough so that the blows he lands do not normally result in lacerations and
consequential scarring, and thin enough so that the rod remains flexible and so gives
added emphasis to each blow.
      The three women are delightfully beautiful.  Two of them are Chinese, daughters of
local merchants granted to him in exchange for certain economic concessions.  They have
served him since their eighteenth birthdays, having been especially schooled in the arts
of love and culture for that purpose.  When he tires of them, he will marry them off to
one of his officers or to one of the other social climbing merchants within his domain. 
The two graceful, exquisitely thin, young women, Me Ling and Pu Wei, are 19 and 21 years
old, respectively, have long, shimmering, black hair and faces that compare to summer
flowers in their delicacy and serenity.  Their breasts are small, firm, ripe apples to
delight a man’s lips; their hips are narrow and their feet are small.  
      The third indentured female is not Chinese, but Occidental.  She has long, blond
hair the color of butter which she keeps in a braid down her back.  Her breasts are full
and heavy, her hips wide and yet curvaceous.  Her face is angelic, with a slim, perfectly
proportioned nose, delicate lips and eyes of sapphire blue.  
      Where Me Ling and Pu Wei have round, exquisitely demure rear cheeks, the blond
woman’s are full and bold and yet enticingly firm.  Her name is Tatiana and she is
Russian.  She is 22 years old.  Her family fled the Bolsheviks in 1920, near the
conclusion of the Russian civil war.  They had gathered up what remained of their portable
wealth and made their way south and east, hoping to reach Shanghai where relatives and
friends awaited them.  Their boat was intercepted by a river patrol of Wang’s men.  They
had been traveling on a junk they hired in Chengdu, having crossed the border at Bakhty in
eastern Kazakhstan and traveled by cart over the desert and mountains and down to the
Yangtze.  The overland trip had taken them almost two months. 
      Everything probably would have been all right.  The boat master had made ready the
toll to be paid.  However, Lieutenant Yin decided to make an inspection to see if there
was anything of value aboard from which an additional fee could be extorted.  Hidden
inside the lid of an old, battered trunk, he discovered the Lamitovs’ treasure of golden,
Russian Double Eagles.  The specially minted, one ounce, czarist coins numbered close to a
hundred. 
      Now, Yin was smart enough to know that there was no way he could make off with the
Lamitovs’ fortune.  His master, Wang, or as he called himself, General Wang, would
certainly learn of it and there would be no place in China small or remote enough for Yin
to hide in.  His men would certainly talk.  At the least, his family would be massacred. 
And so Yin commandeered the boat and brought it into port in Yueyang.  Wang was
appropriately grateful for the lieutenant’s discovery, rewarding him with three of the
valuable coins, a veritable fortune to the young lieutenant, and gifting him a peasant’s
daughter who had been taken by Wang in lieu of taxes from a local farmer.
      All of the male members of the Lamitov party were beheaded in the courtyard of
Wang’s fortress along with the boat’s master and his crew of four.  Tatiana’s mother and
two older sisters, Marina and Adriana, were sold to a whorehouse in Nanking, after
witnessing their husbands’ and brothers’ demise, and having spent some time entertaining
Wang and his officers.  The beautiful, virginal Tatiana he kept for himself.  The boat and
its cargo, and the rest of the Lamitovs’ belongings, were sold and the proceeds were
split, 70/30, between Wang and the men of Yin’s patrol. 
      Wang took a moment to appreciate the rearward pointing charms of his three
concubines.  Their rear cheeks curved gracefully, their pouty, little love lips, devoid of
all hair, peeked out from under them.  It was an inspiring sight.  Last night, knowing
that he would be away for three weeks or so, he had spent a lustful evening with his
female property.  The tincture of rhinoceros horn and certain local herbs had filled his
prick with steel and given him five extraordinary climaxes.  He had used all of their
portals at one time or another.  The exposure of the women’s twin lower gates of pleasure
now made his cock stiffen.
      Wang was eminently grateful for the munificence of fate.  He endowed a local
monastery to officially record his gratitude and to ensure continued good fortune.    
      Me Ling, as the number one concubine, would go first.  He stepped behind her and
gave the bamboo cane a practice swing, producing a satisfying and pleasant ‘whoosh!’ as it
cut through the air.  Me Ling gave out a little sob.
      Without further warning, Wang reared his hand back and brought the cane down on the
almost snow white posterior of the trembling girl.  The ‘crack!’ resounded through the
well appointed room and Me Ling gave out an anguished cry.  
      “Ooooooohhhhhhh!” she yelled.  Her little hands were balled up into tight fists and
tears started to flow from her pretty, jewel like eyes.  Wang reared his hand back again
and delivered the second of the five blows that the slave would receive.   
      “Ahhhhhhh!  Ahhhhhhhh!” the slender, shapely girl gave out as the pain of the
impact coursed through her.  Her tears increased their volume, streaming down her pretty
face and onto the soft, thick rug that lay underneath her.  Two long, red lines marred the
pristine flesh of her buttocks.  
      By the time that the fifth blow had been landed, Me Ling was sobbing woefully.  The
angry red lines across her rear cheeks were evenly spaced, expertly laid down, and looked
like a tiger had drawn its paw across them from right to left.
      Pu Wei had started crying silently when the first blow had landed on Me Ling’s
rear.  As Wang prepared to give her her due, she started to sob and whine.  Wang watched
her dainty rear entrance contract in fear.  He had spent twenty minutes plowing that hole
last night.  He recalled its tightness on his sturdy pole and the warmth of her bowel’s
murky depths.  The young lady had never really become acclimated to ass fucking and he
enjoyed the humiliated look she always gave him when he ordered her to present her rear to
him, in much the same position she was in now.
      Pu’s piteous wails echoed through the room as he slowly, forcefully and
methodically applied the five strokes to her bottom.  At the fourth stroke, she flinched
and, as a consequence, he gave her one extra.
      Now, it was Tatiana’s turn.  Wang had not used the full extent of his strength on
Me Ling’s and Pu’s hindquarters.  The flesh there was just a little too thin and delicate
for that.  With Tatiana, he need have no qualms about going all out.  Her rear flesh was
suitably padded to accept the full force of his blows. 
      The unhappy Russian girl was well aware that she always received the worst of
Wang’s attentions when it came to a whipping.  Life was hard for the blond strumpet.  When
her family was obliterated, she cried for days and days, weeks.  She had no idea where she
was.  Somewhere in China was all she knew.  She had only now, after two years as one of
Wang’s whores, begun to understand some elementary Chinese other than the one or two word
commands her master gave her to suck his cock or spread her legs.  Having no prospect of
rescue, she awoke daily with a heavy heart.  Me Ling and Pu were kind to her, at least
they tried to be, but Wang’s two wives were cruel and rapacious.  Wang, as was his habit,
was taking his number one wife, Li Hua, with him on his trip.  His number two wife, Yu
Jie, had to stay behind.  There was no doubt that she would take out her anger on the
three concubines, especially Tatiana, who she liked to torment with her seven tasseled
whip and often forced to service her insatiable quim. 
      Tatiana’s teeth were clenched tightly and her muscles tensed as she awaited her
turn at torment.  Every time that she was whipped, and it seemed to be very often, she was
filled with self pity and remorse for the loss of her loved ones and her future.  Muri,
her fiancé, had preceded the Lamitov family to Shanghai and he had been awaiting
her there.
      Instead of the full, happy life that she anticipated with him, she now faced only a
dark, dismal future.  She spent all of her days and nights in the castle but for the
occasional sojourn to a lake or into the mountains with her master.  While he spent his
days hunting or boating, he spent his nights abusing her or whichever of the other
concubines he brought with him.  Twice, she had snuck out of the seraglio and reached the
outer walls of the fortress.  Twice she had been caught and punished severely.  She often
thought of throwing herself out of the window of the concubines’ dormitory to the
cobblestones some 50’ below, but her faith in an everlasting paradise deterred her.  It
was enough that she had to spend her life in hell; she didn’t want to spend eternity there
too.  Besides, unless she did a header into the ground, the fall would probably not kill
her, but would maim her for life instead.
      The bamboo cane gave a vicious whistle as it tore through the air towards Tatiana’s
defenseless rear cheeks.  When it struck her, it depressed the flesh where it landed. 
Tatiana emitted a woeful howl.  Her ass burned as if a fiery torch had been dragged across
it.  The pain filled her whole being.  Her stomach quailed and her heart pounded.  She
knew that she had four to go and that she dared not move an inch or she would receive
more.
      A few, seemingly everlasting seconds later, the second stroke descended.  This one
struck her rear on the curve of her buttocks, near the tops of her thighs.  She howled
again.  Her body shook.  Her chest was wracked with sobs.  She clenched her fists tightly
until her knuckles were a stark white.  Her long, tapered fingernails, covered with red,
shiny lacquer, dug deeply into her palms.  Her mouth was dry as the desert that she and
her family had had to cross in their ill fated flight from the communists.  
      The third blow produced an anguished scream from the young woman as did the fourth.
 She fruitlessly tried to prepare herself for the last, the one that she dreaded the most.
 Wang always put special effort into the final stroke.
      The jaded, brutal warlord paused before delivering the last blow.  His cock was as
hard as a rifle barrel.  If he were not beginning his voyage to the city of sin, he would
surely take the time to have one of his whores satisfy him with her mouth.  But it was
almost eight o’clock in the morning and he wanted to travel as far as he could today.
      Wang counted to three in his mind, the infernal instrument poised behind him.  It
made an evil ‘whoosh!’ as it sailed forward.  The force of the blow lifted him slightly
off of his feet.
      The hysterical, blond concubine howled as she felt the impact of the cane.  It was
as if her master had taken a knife and scoured her skin with it, digging a deep channel
across her rear.  Her howl turned into a scream and then back into a howl again.  Her face
was awash with tears.  When her howling ceased, her heavy, deep sobs resumed.  She
desperately tried to stop them, knowing that her master had his limits as to how much
expression of anguish he would tolerate.  As soon as she could, she closed her widespread,
painted lips tightly and held them in.
      Wang was immensely satisfied with the early morning session.  He was sure that his
whores would remember well the lesson he had taught them.  The Russian would probably not
be able to sit down for a week.  
      The cruel bandit, for that’s what he really was, turned and handed the whip to his
eunuch, Li Pao.  Li would rule all of his women while the master was gone.  He would make
sure that they were bathed and painted daily as if their overlord was there.  He would,
thrice daily, manipulate them to orgasm to ensure that they stayed sufficiently
passionate.  There was always the chance that a local or foreign dignitary or two would
stop by while Wang was away and the enslaved beauties needed to be ready to service them. 
Wang was generous with his whores and often, at dinner parties, he would have them whipped
for the amusement of his guests and permit them to select one for use for the night.  And
it was a matter of principle.  The women should know that even though his physical
presence was hundreds of miles away, his will and his spirit still inhabited his fortress
and dominated their lives.
           Wang paused once more to take in the vision of the lovely, bare posteriors all
lined with long, red marks.  He took in the sight of their soft, hairless pussies, peaking
out from under their marred buttocks like cute, little creatures wanting to come out and
play.  How long would it really take to satisfy his raging hard on, he asked himself.  He
could be quick about it.
      Having decided to relieve himself in the body of one of his sexual servants, he had
to decide which one.  His thinking had already gone from the possibility of receiving oral
delight to piercing one of their hairless honey pots.  
      It was the vision of Tatiana that was the most compelling this morning.  While the
lash marks on the two Chinese sluts were narrow and flat, the harsher impact of the cane
on the Russian girl’s ass had left a wider, almost purple imprint.  The flesh was slightly
raised on the places where she had been wounded.
      Wang had decided.  And when Wang decided something, the next phase was always
action.  He unhooked the buttons to the fly of his crisply pressed, elegantly tailored,
red striped, olive brown, uniform pants and produced his manly weapon.  He uttered four
words in Chinese roughly translated as, “Whore Number Three, ready yourself.”
      Tatiana had a clear understanding of the gist of the words if not their literal
meaning.  She quickly spread her knees, raised her rump and snuck her hand between her
thighs, taking possession of her soft, tender, denuded crevasse.  Immediately, her mind
shifted from bemoaning her cruel fate to the necessity of flooding her quim with her
juices to ease the passage of the heartless warlord.
      Frantically, she began to rub at her unusually large button of love.  She had not
known it was unusually large until she had an opportunity to view the pussies of her two
co-prisoners close up while she pleasured them for the amusement of her master or his
guests.  Her sisters had never fully undressed before her and sex was something just not
talked about in her refined home.  It explained a lot of things to her, such as why she
had been tormented with longing for physical love ever since puberty, a longing that
produced a guilt so strong that she actually confessed it to her priest.  He had told her
that God had sent her a trial to bear and the fate of her soul depended on her ability to
resist the urge to pleasure herself or to seek relief outside of marriage.  Ignoring her
bulging clit was useless, however; her mind remained focused on it almost all the time. 
In the winter, she had to forgo underwear since the coldness when she went outside made
the organ stiffen and rub against it.
      Now, Tatiana considered her former trial as a gift.  Wang was always severely
displeased when one of his whores failed to lubricate herself satisfactorily for him.  But
it took only five or ten seconds of rubbing for Tatiana to begin to produce the discharge
that would moisten her canal and insure her master an easy, comfortable time of it.
      True to her nature, the Russian girl’s twat was soon ready for fucking.  Wang had
watched the girl’s delicate fingers as they snaked underneath her and addressed her
wonderful, appealing entrance.  He saw the red capped fingers slide into her quim and
begin a thrusting motion, indicating that she was well ready for him.
      Lowering himself to his knees, the warlord crept up to Tatiana’s beckoning love
hole.  He presented his sleek, uncut cock to the entrance and pressed forward and up.  His
piece slid right in.
      Wang gave an appreciative moan as he felt the warm, soft tissue of Tatiana’s cunt’s
walls.  He was tempted to linger inside her for a while, but he knew that he had to make
quick work of it.  He grabbed the girl’s wide, graceful hips and began to thrust himself
back and forth.  His narrow eyes rolled backwards, his jaw slackened, his mouth opened as
he absorbed the delights of Tatiana’s pussy.  
      The girl, herself, was experiencing her normal, ecstatic pleasure at having her
tunnel traversed by a hot, thick cock.  Especially at this angle, her master’s cock
dragged across her engorged love bud enthrallingly.  Momentarily, the pain she had just
suffered was forgotten, the fact that she was a forlorn whore, a prisoner among strangers
whose customs and language were foreign to her own, ran right out of her mind.  Later, she
would rue her bout of passion.  She knew that God had his reasons for permitting the big
Chinese man to capture and enslave her.  Her thinking had brought herself to the point
where she came to believe that it was a punishment for her heightened sexual drive, a
drive that she had given into many, guilt ridden times by the use of her fingers back in
Moscow when alone in her soft, comforting bed.  And every time the callous, Asian man, his
guests, his wives or her fellow prisoners drove her to passion, she knew that her
tormented existence would be extended by the divine power just that much more as
punishment. 
      Tatiana began to moan with pleasure as Wang’s cock continued its sawing motions
back and forth in her vagina.  She clenched her fists and tightened her body, much like
she had done when she was beaten, in order to try and fight off the completion of her
passion.  But it was no use.  By the twentieth stroke of Wang’s thick rod, her crescendo
had started to build. By the twenty fifth, it was ready to burst.  Before the thirtieth,
her crises resolved itself by sending wave after wave of excruciating pleasure through her
body.  Her innards shook and her pussy throbbed.  
      Wang’s cock took this as the signal to burst into rapid action.  The warlord
groaned as he felt his cock pulse and spurt inside the former Russian maiden.  His hands
gripped tighter on her hips, his eyes closed, his lips trembled.  “Aaaaaaaarrrrrgh! 
Aaaarrrrrrrrgh!  Aaaarrrrrrrrgh!” he shouted at each convulsion of his meat, each
exclamation of his pleasure growing louder and louder.
      When his cock’s delivery of his seed to the pale, voluptuous concubine relented, he
bent over her prone body and took a deep breath.  Each time that he came inside the bodies
of one of his indentured females, or any other one of the various sluts he fucked on his
trips around his duchy, he made a little prayer of thanks to his ancestors and their
family gods for choosing him to raise the family to such enviable heights and to provide
him with so much delectable flesh to enjoy.  
      It was an immensely satisfied Wang that walked down to the dock to board his
steamboat about twenty minutes later.  It was his birthday in seven days and he planned a
huge celebration in Shanghai at having achieved a half a century of life.  Standing by the
quay were seven, young, peasant girls.  They had stripped off their peasant’s garb, and
their clothes were sitting in little piles in front of them.  Wang gave the young women a
cursory inspection.  Major Won, as usual, had done a good job at selecting them. 
Considered virtually useless mouths at home, their fathers were glad to receive the small
recompense for the transfer of their ownership to the great General Wang.  
      They were destined for the whorehouses of Shanghai.  He ran a very elegant one
himself and would pick the best of the lot before retailing the rest out.  He would make a
tidy profit and receive the gratitude of the owners and operators of the houses of delight
which received them.  They were all pretty and all virgins, something that had been
checked personally by Major Won.  They, or most of them at least, would remain virgins in
a technical sense until they reached their destinations.  He would, of course, sample the
mouths and rear entrances of them all during the four day journey.  He made a vow to limit
himself to two vaginal deflowerings.  After all, he was only human.
      Wang nodded to the soldiers who were guarding the unhappy, young women and they
began to hustle them on board.  They would travel naked, in a large cage on the rear deck
of the first level of the ship.  There was ample room for them in the hold, but having
them above decks made it easier to retrieve them when needed and simpler to feed them,
clean them with a hose or to remove their wastes.   As they ran fearfully onto the ship,
encouraged by three foot long whippy sticks wielded by the soldiers, they left behind
seven little piles of clothes, which looked like seven peasant women had disappeared into
thin air leaving only their coarse raiment behind.
       The living area for Wang and his party were on the upper level of the ship.  He
was greeted by the captain as he boarded the vessel and he had advised him that he was
free to shove off.  The powerful engines had been idling in a low rumble.  His first wife
and all his attendees were already aboard.  Almost coincidental to Wang’s arrival on the
upper deck, the engine’s grumble became a roar and the big wheel behind the ship started
to slowly turn.  It eased away from the dock and pointed itself downstream.
      On the third level of the fortress, high on the hill that dominated the Junshan
peninsula, three pairs of feminine eyes watched from the balcony to their abode as the
large, bulky steamboat made its way to the center of the broad, muddy river.  Each of them
had different thoughts as they watched it go away.  Me Ling was relieved that the man was
gone since she would not have to service his thick cock with her mouth, something she was
loath to do, until he returned in about a month.  Pu Wei was relieved that her delicate
little bung hole would be undisturbed for the time the master was away.  Both forecasts
were dependant on no VIP’s showing up, of course.
      Tatiana’s thoughts were different.  She watched the large boat drift away down the
river with sadness.  It was the route to her freedom, she knew that at least, and a trip
she would almost certainly never make.  She was no fool and knew that someday the master
would tire of her.  She had no idea what would happen to her then, but she couldn’t
imagine that it would result in her freedom or be better than her life here where, under
usual circumstances, she only had to service her lord every three days.  A pit opened in
her stomach as she watched the ship navigate the bend in the river.  From her perch on the
third floor of the fortress, she would be able to watch it wind its way downriver for
another half hour or so.  She had watched it disappear thusly many times.  She knew she
was torturing herself by watching it.  She couldn’t help it.  Her longing for freedom was
a heartache that permeated her entire being.  As the ship got smaller and smaller, she
wiped away her tears.