While the 3rd floor of General Wang Ku’s fortress was reserved for his private
accommodations, the second floor was devoted to more public uses. There was a large
dining room, a smaller one for more intimate use, a meeting hall, where he held court, a
salon, where he met privately with the various visitors to the 13th century, stone
structure, a large kitchen, a library and a number of guest rooms. There was even a
billiards room where Wang could show off to European visitors the skills he learned while
attending the British school back in Shanghai. The guest rooms ranged from the simple to
the sumptuous. Your importance to the warlord determined in which room you stayed.
Violet was lying on the luxurious, king sized bed in the most sumptuous of the
guestrooms. She was blindfolded and her wrists, bound behind her with a soft, silken
cord, were connected to her crossed and similarly bound ankles. The cord that connected
them was about a foot long and the position itself caused the British concubine no
particular stress. In fact, it was quite comfortable. She had been lying there for about
an hour, having been escorted down from the concubines’ chambers on the third floor by Li
Pao, General Wang’s eunuch, the man who ruled the seraglio like a hawk watching chickens.
Violet didn’t know who she was waiting for. And when he finally did arrive and was done
fucking her, she probably still wouldn’t.
It was part of her duties as General Wang’s ‘Whore Number Four’, as he had named
her, to entertain his guests, not to know who she was entertaining. The other concubines
did it too, but she seemed to be the one picked most often. She knew that there was a
general animosity towards all things British in some parts of China, dating back to the
Opium Wars and the unfair treaties that had been foisted on the Middle Kingdom by the
European powers, Britain in the lead. So, she assumed that many of the native men who
visited her lord and master took special pleasure in fucking, and sometimes beating, a
subservient, English whore. In fact, when she was compelled to attend various of Wang’s
parties, to display her breasts for the salacious entertainment of his guests or to
service her master on her knees while the other diners gleefully watched, that’s how he
referred to her in Chinese, as, “My English whore.”
Violet had been assiduously trying to learn Chinese ever since her induction as one
of Wang’s concubines. It was a difficult language to learn, especially since she had to
learn it from Wang’s other concubines, the maids or one of the older Chinese women who
acted as the concubines’ chaperones. None of them spoke English. Violet had to learn
mostly from pantomime. After she had heard Wang use the same Chinese expression a few
times when he introduced her, she had tried to find out what it meant. She knew the
Chinese word for whore. It was the common word he used when he addressed not only her,
but also Whore Number One, Whore Number Two and Whore Number Three. But what did the
first part mean?
One day while playing gin rummy with Me Ling and Pu Wei, Wang’s young, pretty,
Chinese concubines, in the community room of the seraglio, a game that she had taught them
to help fight the boredom of sitting around all day waiting for the master’s call, she had
asked them. She said the words she had repeatedly heard and the expression she had
learned which she understood translated roughly as, “What does that mean?” Me Ling and Pu
Wei giggled. It was Pu Wei, the older of the two by one year, she was 22 now, having
rolled over a year during the winter, who answered. She pointed to Violet, “You are
English Whore,” she said in Chinese. That didn’t make much sense to Violet. She knew
that the phrase pertained to her, but it still could mean a hundred different things.
When Me Ling and Pu stopped giggling, Pu pointed to herself saying, “Chinese whore.” Then
she pointed to Me and repeated, “Chinese Whore.” Seeing that Violet still looked
perplexed, she pointed to Tatiana, known as Whore Number Three, and said, “Russian whore.”
Then she went around fast, pointing to each of them in turn, “Chinese whore, Chinese
whore, Russian whore, English whore.” That was when Violet finally got it.
Taking into consideration the general resentment of Britain, and adding to that
Wang’s particular emphasis on her nationality again and again when he introduced her,
Violet came to realize that her popularity with Wang’s friends was, partly, at least,
based on her heritage.
So, at least three or four times a month Violet found herself being led down to the
guest rooms, a golden chain connected to a ring in the black collar that all the
concubines wore, after a party at which her charms had been brazenly displayed, or, like
tonight, having been selected in advance of the party, lying on one of the beds in the
guest bedrooms, bound as she was now, waiting for whoever it was she was to serve. They
never bothered to introduce themselves formally, even though a few of them were regular
visitors. Sometimes the man Wang was honoring through her use stayed for several days, in
which case she was kept in his room in a little cage for his convenience. Sometimes it
was a just for one night and she never saw the man again.
Rarely was she assigned to please a European. On those nights, Wang normally
brought either Me or Pu or both down to the dining hall. There had been a few. Notable
among them was Robert Preston, the prominent, 40ish, English trader from Shanghai, and
Wang’s partner in the opium business. Serving him was particularly onerous to Violet
since he was the one who had sold her into slavery in the first place.
They were to have been married after a short, long distance, courtship. Violet had
sailed out from England a little over a year ago. When she arrived, she found out that
Robert had been living with a Chinese tart in the mansion which was to have been their
family home. Her boat had arrived a day early and when she had taken a taxi to Robert’s
house, she found Robert still trying to get her out. Violet broke the engagement and
decided to return to England. Robert, not wanting a scandal, no one yet knew of the
termination of their engagement, convinced Wang to kidnap her and make her his slave.
Robert garnered the sympathy of every hostess in the International Settlement. He
was comforted especially by Antonia Hoover, Lord Hoover’s 21 year old daughter. The last
time Robert visited, he had announced to Violet their engagement. Robert’s father, the
Earl of Wilford, was now satisfied that Robert would buckle down and have a family, so
Robert’s succession to the title was secured, and, Lord Hoover was to settle an income of
some 5,000 pounds a year on Robert as a wedding present. All in all, he had done much
better than he would have had he married the penurious, 27 year old Violet, and he was
very happy the way things turned out, something he told her each time he came to Wang’s
domain.
He had come to Wang’s fortress three times since her kidnapping to discuss business
with Wang and to enjoy his hospitality and he always made sure to spend at least a few
nights with Violet. The first time, he brought with him Qua Li, the very same, young tart
Violet had seen him moving out of his house that fateful day. The pair of them abused
Violet savagely for a week, Robert, as part of his revenge against her for throwing him
over, and Qua Li, in retribution of having been the cause of her forced removal from
Robert’s mansion.
Qua Li’s satisfaction was to be short lived. At Robert’s request, after that first
week, she was thrown into General Wang’s dungeon to be trained as one of his whores,
something that she actually had been when Robert first met her. It seems that Robert was
taking no chances on spoiling his budding romance with Antonia Hoover. According to one
of the maids, the woman was now serving as one of the attractions in the general’s high
class whore house in Yeuyang, the teeming port on the Yangtze River that served Wang’s
domain, and less than a mile from Wang’s castle fortress. Robert would have had Qua Li
thrown into the dungeon on their arrival, but the thought of having her torment and
humiliate the woman who had refused his proffer of marriage was too satisfying to forgo.
As she lay on the bed in the guestroom, awaiting her assailant for the night,
Violet was ruminating about how quickly the year had gone. It was a time of great
reflection. She didn’t know the exact date. Wang’s concubines were kept in ignorance of
most things in the outside world. There were no calendars in the seraglio. But there
were tell tale signs of the imminence of one of Wang’s quarterly visits to Shanghai, where
he had a number of legitimate and illegitimate interests. The principal sign was the
incessant bickering and fighting between Wang’s wives, Li Hua and Yu Jie. Wang only took
one of his wives with him on the trip. The last two times, Wife Number One, Li Hua, had
had the privilege of accompanying him. The time before, the first trip that the warlord
made after Violet had become his sex slave, Wife Number Two, Yu, had gone.
So, besides the fact that the winter had passed and signs of spring were
everywhere, Wang was going on his fourth quarterly trip since Violet’s enslavement. That
made it April, 1923, or thereabouts, one year since her abduction and brutal conversion
into one of his whores.
Although she had surrendered herself to the warlord in an official ceremony before
a crowd of Wang’s subjects, she had not been prepared for the reality of being his
concubine. Starting on the evening of the ceremony, Wang used her almost continuously for
five days in a row. The first night included a brutal whipping to remind her that she was
his slave to do with as he saw fit. She had had several more since.
Hhe used all of her gateways to pleasure that first night, but he did not spill
himself into her womb. Violet, while not objecting, thought that rather odd. She found
her answer on the fourth night of her slavery.
Each time before she was taken to Wang’s plush, sumptuous bedroom on the third
floor of the fortress, Li, the eunuch, had her make a stop at the chambers of a wizened
old, Chinese woman. She had pure, grey hair and dissolved, red teeth from chewing the
betel nut. Each time, she had Violet strip and ran her hands over the new concubine’s
belly and between her thighs. She used her hand to excite her and, when she was loose and
lubricated, delved her bony fingers inside like she was looking for something.
Afterwards, she painted Violet’s love mound red.
Violet thought that this was some bizarre ritual, until, on the fourth night, the
old woman emerged from her pussy and gave her a lugubrious smile. She gave a nod to the
eunuch who had stood and watched each time. Li smiled as well. It was then that Violet
understood that the old lady was in charge of determining if she were in her fecund time
of the month. Red meant stop. No red meant go.
Later, as she awaited her master’s pleasure, hogtied on his bed, she was trembling
with unhappy anticipation that this night Wang would make up for his earlier discipline in
not discharging himself in her lush canal. She was right.
When he came into his room, she was blindfolded so she did not see his reaction as
he took in her unpainted mound. She knew that he had taken cognizance of it when, after
he had stripped and sat down on the bed next to her, he stroked her smooth, hairless quim
and uttered a self satisfied phrase in Chinese.
Violet counted that night as the night that she really became Wang’s whore. The
first three nights, he had used her either with her hands bound to a ring in the headboard
of his bed, or affixed behind her back. This night, after he had finished his ritualistic
caressing of her helpless, bound body, stoking the flames of her lust, he removed her
blindfold and untied her hands completely.
He threw open her legs while she lay on her back and insinuated his hips between
her thighs. Violet detected on his face the look of a hunter who has cornered his prey.
He had fucked her pussy every night, and in two afternoon sessions that she had had with
him, but he had not discharged himself in her quim and he certainly had not looked like
this. Violet cringed when she felt his thick manhood nudge against her inner labia. She
tried to pull away, but there was nowhere to go. He had her leaning back against one of
his oversized pillows and the way her torso was propped up, she had a bird’s eye view of
her ravishment.
There was something about having Wang flood her belly with his cum that was
especially offensive to her. She had only made love to one man before she had been
transformed into a whore and that had been a little more than seven years before, when she
was just about to turn 20. It was a summer affair that ended abruptly when the young
boy’s, unbeknownst to Violet, fiancé returned from a summer holiday in France. He
had spilled himself in her quite a few times during their 8 or 9 trysts. Although she
spent many a worried night, she had been overjoyed to accept the seed of her lover. It
was like she had admitted his essence to her inner being, formed a biological bond with
him.
She did not look forward to the prospect of receiving her new master’s spunk in her
now. She detested the general with every ounce of her being. Each time he put a hand or
his lips on her or thrust his manhood within her body, her mind revolted. She tried to
hide these feeling of enmity from her lord, fearful of another beating, but she knew that
she had not been completely successful. To her surprise, Wang seemed to enjoy the fact
that he could produce such a strong, emotional response in her. She knew, though, that
her revulsion at being his whore could never, ever, spill over into disobedience,
reluctance to open herself to him at his whim, or lack of enthusiasm at her ravishing.
While her mind rebelled at her forcible possession by the callous general,
unfortunately, her body did not. It was Li Pao, the eunuch, who had broken her in during
the week she had spent in the general’s dungeon below the castle. He varied long periods
of cruel confinement with long, patient sessions of drawing out her lusts. Bound and
gagged, her legs forcibly spread, she had succumbed almost right away to the agile skill
of the seducer’s tongue. She realized later that his campaign to debase her had been
assisted by an herbal remedy brewed by the same old lady who had tested her for her
ripeness. As one of Wang’s concubines, she now received a dose of the concoction every
morning, and heaven help her if Li saw that she hadn’t drunk the whole thing, and,
usually, another dose before she was actually brought to service the master or his guests,
either in the afternoon or at night.
As a result, Violet had not been able to resist the lust driving caresses of her
lord. She knew her pussy was moist and flush, poised to receive him. Her breath had
already begun to become labored and she could feel that her heavy, plump breasts had
become taut with blood. She looked down and watched with revulsion as Wang inched his
piece forwards slowly inside her, pushing her soft, hairless, outer labia aside. His cock
advanced by inches and she felt its heat and bulk invading her love channel. Her hands
were free on either side of her and she had to fight off the urge to use them to defend
herself, to try and push the heavyset, well built, fit man off of her. It would certainly
have been in vain and resulted in a long session with a whip.
As the thick, sleek, uncut cock disappeared inside her, Violet began to whine.
She looked up at the smiling face of her tormentor. He was clearly aware of the
significance of this night to his new slave. Dog owners no longer consider pure bitches
who have been mounted by a dog outside their breed. Violet was feeling something similar.
She knew that she would never think of herself as pure again once the Chinese warlord’s
seed crept up her flush canal to mingle with her blood.
Although she reviled swallowing the warlord’s spunk or receiving his discharge in
her rear portal, these were not the same thing to her. Pouring his cum into her womb
would be like poisoning her essence, coating her innards. She knew that she would never
feel the same afterwards.
On that night, when her master’s cock had sunk to its hilt, he began a slow,
rhythmic motion inside her. He was in no hurry and he clearly wanted Violet to be at the
height of passion when she received her first vaginal delivery of his creamy, white,
viscous fluids. Violet’s hands were clenched by her sides. Her lips were sealed tightly
together. A wave of nausea passed through her. It was soon overwhelmed by the disdained
and unwanted, pleasurable sensations of the sawing meat inside her. She tried to lay
motionless as he fucked her, a sin that was a whipping offense under different
circumstances, which Violet later found out to her dismay. Wang liked his whores pumping
back at him, squeezing their pussy’s muscles to accentuate his enjoyment, a skill Violet
was yet to learn. For tonight, however, he was content to see the shame and humiliation
on her face as she considered the inevitability of the event which so revolted her.
Wang’s strong hips kept up their relentless assault. His pace had picked up and
his traverses along her fevered canal were driving Violet further and further along the
road to completion. Her body was sweating with excitement. Her pussy trilled, her
breathing had become heavy. And then, her master slowed his thrusts. She moaned
reactively at the postponement of her pleasure. Wang waited until she had calmed and her
body had cooled before increasing his pace once more. It was the look that signaled him
to continue, the look on Violet’s face that betrayed her renewed realization that the
event which she so dreaded was still to come.
He went on and on, starting, stopping, starting and then stopping again. Wang was
an experienced cocksman and he could go on almost indefinitely if he wanted. Violet was
crying; her torment was almost too much to bear.
Then she saw a look of determination arise in her owner’s face. He was done
playing games with her. She would receive his spunk whether she liked it or not. His
pace accelerated. Violet’s crises immediately loomed. Her hands started weakly pushing
at the callous man’s strong torso as if she could somehow hold back his desires. Then,
her orgasm struck her. Her hips bucked and her mouth opened. The throbs of her pussy’s
walls sent wave after wave of pleasure through her. Her hands, with a mind of their own,
clutched desperately at the beast that was possessing her. When her second orgasm began,
she circled her thin, graceful arms around his shoulders and drew him into her while she
moaned her pleasure ecstatically into the luxurious room.
It was on the verge of her third cascade of pleasure that she knew she was lost.
Her legs had crossed behind Wang’s thighs, seeking to drive him deeper within her. Her
arms and hands clasped at his body as if she were in danger of being flung across the
room. His head had been buried in her shoulder as he pumped relentlessly away at her
quim. He slowed his thrusts for just a moment, just enough time for him to draw back and
capture her eyes with his own. Her mind had been lost in the throes of pleasure and she
had tossed aside her horror at her prospective despoilment. When she saw his piercing
stare, she recalled the significance of the moment and moaned in despair.
He resumed his powerful, rapid thrusts, keeping her eyes locked into his until the
very moment that her third climax tore through her. It was the signal he was waiting for.
He groaned with energized pleasure as he felt his cock spasming within her puss. She
felt it too, and she moaned and cried, all the while rocking her hips back at him
desperately, clutching at his body needfullly, trying to bring the center of their beings
together. His hot juice filled her canal, shot back deep inside her, mingled with her
core.
When his cock’s tremors had dwindled to feint echoes, Wang finally brought his
motions to a cessation. Violet was crying and moaning in her shame. He let her go on for
a few minutes. Then he forced her to her knees, bent her over and entered her from
behind. Within a few minutes, she was panting and moaning in forced pleasure once more.
He waited until she came before dumping another load into her.
He toyed with her body for the rest of the night, bringing her up and down the
scales of lust at his command, suckling her ample breasts, dragging his tongue between her
throbbing labia, washing the stiff, electrified nubbin at their apex. When he had supped
at her flesh to his heart’s content, he brought her to her back, ran his arms under her
thighs, forcing them back until her knees touched her breasts, and plunged himself into
her soaking crevasse. Violet felt his cock pierce her deeper than she had ever felt a
manhood descend. She groaned with pleasure and remorse. She came when she felt his spewm
flooding into her.
Afterwards, as he sipped a snifter of 50 year old, French cognac, he rang for the
eunuch to come and get her and take her back to the seraglio. On prior nights, after he
had abused her, she had held back her tears stoically, even when she lay down on the
double sized, plush mattress in her new room. On this night, however, once her maids had
laid her down and dutifully tied off her ankles to her wrists behind her with soft, silken
cords, she wept inconsolably.
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