Caught In China
by Maynard Jackson 


FOREWORD 

In the name of war, man creates his greatest atrocities on other men-and on 
women. Every war is a chronicle of one man using his position and power to 
do things that would not be normally acceptable in his society. 

This book is a chronicle of a particular type of war, a war which was so 
subversive it stripped the combatants of their identities and humanity. In 
it, a nurse fell captive to a sadist who had in his power the most brutal 
and compelling weapon known to either side. The weapon was to be used to 
pursue the war, but the man, Major Li, sought to combine business and 
pleasure and use it to please himself. 

The flowing of blood, the rending of flesh, the pain of death combine with 
the ultimate pleasure of sexual fulfillment in a macabre dance of insanity 
known as man's inhumanity to man. And yet, there are those who welcome such 
inhumanity. 

It is an axiom that to know the enemy is to defeat him. It is hoped that the 
contents of this novel will help the readers understand the perverse desires 
of the sadomasochist so that they need never be threatened by them. 

The Publisher 


ONE 

They were past the Chosin Reservoir, behind enemy lines, she thought, 
vaguely, through the pain and cold. Hamhung was just ahead, according to one 
of the English speaking guards. She made herself think of that, and of 
warmth and food. She forced everything else from her mind . . . the pre-dawn 
ambush on the road, the slaughter of the entire battalion, butchered in 
their sleep. Soldiers, medics and corpsmen, many of them sleeping the sleep 
of exhaustion in the slowly moving ambulances . . . all dead. 

The nurses had been spared. 

Yes, she thought, the slant eyes would certainly not kill the nurses. She 
knew that now. If she had known then, during the attack, she would have 
shoved the muzzle of an Ml in her mouth and pulled the trigger. Death would 
have been quicker then. Not slow. Not what she had witnessed these last few 
days. 

These gooks wanted the nurses, and not for tender lovemaking. The slant eyes 
used the women as rage objects. Fifteen nurses had been captured on the 
road. Ten were still alive. 

My Christ, how could men abuse women like that? 

She remembered what they had done to Vicki, the little black girl from 
Chicago. Vicki had been the first, and she shuddered as she recalled what 
the gooks had done to her. 

They took an early-morning break that first day. Right there, just a few 
feet off the two lane snow packed road they halted. The women had been in 
the middle of the column. When the gooks stopped the girls had been pushed 
along the rag-tag uneven line of men, going from one man to another. And 
each time the soldiers had appraised the nurses with no more than a quick up 
and down look, an occasional squeeze. When they saw Vickie, the only black 
girl in the unit, they nodded, smiled, whispered gutturally in their 
sing-song voices which had once sounded so musically cute. 

Vicki whimpered as the men passed her down the line. Eyes on the ground, she 
let them handle her. She wouldn't resist. All the nurses had agreed not to. 
If they resisted the Chinese would make it that much harder on their 
captives. And, in the end, the nurses would be raped. If they didn't fight, 
their captors might be generous, maybe even considerate. 

Realizing this, Vicki didn't fight. She didn't help, either, as the Chinese 
soldiers slowly flicked at the buttons of her insulated pea coat. With 
knives they slit the coat's folds and when the coat was peeled back like the 
skin of an orange, they began at the buttons of her dungarees. She bit her 
lip, but she didn't cry out as the shirt opened and the cold winter air 
stung her shoulders and firm, baseball sized breasts. The soldiers didn't 
touch her with their hands. They remained silent as each man waited for the 
platoon leader to see her, touch her, rape her and then pass her back to 
them. They waited as their race had waited thousands of years for their 
freedom. They would wait, and when their turn came at this slim, black 
woman-child, they would have her body and take what was left for them by the 
platoon leader. 

Vicki stumbled on the ragged chunks of sleet-frozen snow. She fell on her 
back, legs spread wide. The yellow soldiers stared down at her, at the way 
her black skin contrasted in the early dawn paleness and luminescent snow. 
She lay still, not daring to move, afraid of arousing them as a vicious dog 
is aroused by sudden movement. 

In the pale light the scene was an unearthly tableau with captive and captor 
framed in still, dark relief against the hard, snow covered earth. 

The wind came up suddenly and unexpectedly and a distant copse of trees 
hissed and threw talons across the procession. 

As though awakened from sleep the oriental troops, bulky like teddy bears, 
crowded around the fallen girl. She whimpered, chewed her lower lip, 
shivered. The gook soldiers surrounded her and she knew what was about to 
happen. 

They were forming a barrier against the wind, their quilted coats shiny with 
snow. A thick, musky odor came from their packed bodies. 

A hoarse, guttural command crackled. The soldiers at the head of the line 
moved aside and a squat, muscular man walked down the line toward Vicki. 
Thin gold braid along the bill of his cap showed his rank. He unzipped his 
jacket as he marched toward Vicki. By the time he was at her side his coat 
was off. From a hip scabbard he drew a six inch knife. The walnut handle was 
curved like a set of brass knuckles. He gripped the weapon and stood before 
the girl. His troops moved closer as the wind kicked harder. No one spoke or 
breathed. 

Then the officer signaled for his second in command. The flunkie listened, 
head bent, and after the brief order was given, he pushed through the line 
to where the nurses were held captive. Without a word he grabbed Gwen, the 
tall, plump blonde. He dragged her by the arm, to where Vicki lay. 

"You watch," the flunkie snarled. His English lilted, but that didn't take 
the terrorism out of his voice. 

He held Gwen. The Chinese officer smiled at Gwen. He looked almost friendly. 
Then he turned to Vicki. He squatted and carefully slit the sides of her 
dungarees. He pulled the jagged cloth back. 

"Oh, God," Vicki wailed. 

Gwen turned away. The flunkie grabbed her head, twisted it toward Vicki. 

"You watch," he snarled. "And then you tell your comrades what you see." 

Gwen watched the officer pull his pants and shorts to his ankles. His legs 
were short and strong, the knotted muscles like twisted veins of a very 
strong, very old tree. 

Through her fear, Gwen tried to keep her thoughts on a safe, superficial 
level. That way she would see but not feel the agony of what was about to 
happen. But then the gook officer thumbed back his foreskin. The cold air 
bit his telescoping penis. The organ grew faster. The tip blushed as blood 
pounded through the pale sheath. 

Gwen watched, fascinated by the thick stub of male meat. The skin looked 
like lemon colored parchment. 

The flunkie chuckled. "You like?" 

"No," Gwen grunted. "No!" 

The officer looked toward the source of the outcry. He saw Gwen's reaction; 
she was shaking, her eyes jerking away from the sprawled outline in the 
snow. Yet her eyes, wide and unblinking, didn't shift from the scene in 
front of her. 

The officer grinned. His black eyes glittered under slitted eyelids. "Li 
will enjoy them both." 

The flunkie giggled. Vickie's sobs diminished while the Chinese officer 
stared at Gwen. Gwen didn't flinch. It was like she was two people: the one 
being held captive, the other an impartial observer, doing her observing 
from a safe distance. 

The officer swung back to the black girl in the snow. Rough hands seized the 
elastic band that held her panties to her smooth belly. He jerked. The 
elastic tore. The pinkish-white tricot ripped. The reinforced pubic cup made 
a soft, sucking sound as it pulled free of the wet thick pubic hair. The 
girl screamed as the chink officer jerked her legs apart. In his right hand 
he held the knife. The tip, like a devil's dildo, was pointed at her snatch. 
He squatted, braced his knees between her legs. He jammed this thumb into 
her snatch, wiggling the thumb to get her juices flowing. 

Vickie opened wider. The heels of her army boots squeaked and cut trenches 
in the snow. The knife, Gwen told herself, is for show, to frighten Vicki, 
enforce his own masculine ego. That's what that horrible weapon has to be. 
It has to! 

The captain's face was contorted with rage and lust. His eyes were large; 
pupils glazed with passion. A spasm shook his belly. Pre-come spurted. His 
cockhead was slick with it. 

He gripped the knife blade between his teeth and lowered himself onto the 
black girl's belly. Grunting in a jagged rhythm that matched his own 
thrusts, he slammed into her. Vicki shrieked as the first painful cock 
thrust tore her unyielding loins apart. Then, as he penetrated deeper and 
her cunt adjusted to his weight, the pain subsided and was replaced by a 
discomfort which wasn't unpleasant. She shut her eyes, shut out the cold, 
shut out the brute force that plunged into her cunt and tried to remember 
her man back home. And then he was there, turning her frightened, unsure 
cunt into the responsive vessel of a woman being turned on by the man she 
loved. 

Vickie threw her legs around the wheezing yellow officer. Her heels gouged 
his kidneys but he didn't feel it. Her belly heaved. Her breasts jiggled. 
Her nipples were pebbles, scraping the harsh fabric of his shirt. 

In and out, faster and faster, until he bellowed, slammed ahead one final 
time and shot hot jizz into her. Vicki shrieked, feeling the ejaculation. 
Thrashing her hips from side to side, up and down, she came. One last time 
the man lunged into her hole, draining himself. She tightened her crotch to 
hold the last of his juice. Eyes shut tight, Vicki didn't see what was about 
to happen. 

As the officer squirted his cum into the black girl, he opened his jaws. The 
knife dropped and he caught it by the handle before it struck Vicki's belly. 
Balancing the ugly weapon, he paused, then pulled back. His still hard cock 
slapped Vickie's thigh. She flinched but remained with her eyes closed, 
savoring the remnants of her fantasy. She didn't notice the snow packed 
around her ass cheeks and in her crotch. 

The chink captain lightly traced his big cock-vein with the blade tip. His 
organ stiffened. He lowered the blade, pointing first at the black girl's 
come-slickened bush; then her goose-pimpled, flexed thighs; then at the tiny 
curled navel. Like a child trying to select a favorite toy, the knife blade 
moved along her belly to her breasts, an inch above the dark, sweet flesh. 
Vickie felt the sharp presence without actually feeling the sharpness. Her 
eyelids fluttered. The blade, just beyond her field of vision came down like 
the kiss of a gentle lover against her cleavage. The cold sharpness bit her 
already numb skin. She didn't feel the blade turning, slitting the dark-red 
of her flesh. A narrow cut and a tiny rivulet of blood started toward her 
ribs. The warmth thawed the numbness. The heat spread downward, to her 
stomach. 

Vickie felt the heat and, when Gwen screamed, she knew what was happening. 
She couldn't move. Fear paralyzed her. Not even the steady, rising wail from 
Gwen freed her imprisoned limbs. 

Gwen trembled. The sight of the naked black nurse, her naked attacker, his 
hard cock poised over Vicki's cunt, all made Gwen hotter. Gwen's cunt juices 
gushed. Her clit vibrated. For the first time since the nightmare called 
Korea began, she felt a passion unlike anything she'd ever felt before. She 
knew what was making her passionate. And it wasn't this gook's cock. She'd 
seen plenty of those, many of them strangers, some fairly familiar and even 
one or two that she had really cared for. So it wasn't the prick, or the 
impersonal rape which, to Gwen, was the ultimate show of male 
domination-female degradation. 

It was none of these things that got her excited. What it was . . . was the 
one thing she didn't want to admit to herself. 

She watched the ugly weapon turn and turn again until it was blood-flecked 
to the hilt. She watched her friend's belly become a crisscrossed gully. She 
listened to her friend's high-pitched screams and felt no remorse. She 
observed from a great distance, too far to be directly involved, as the 
desire to be kissed that way rose. 

Her belly muscles rippled. Her breasts strained against her bra cups. Heat 
hardened her large, solid tits and tightened her breast tips. 

Gwen could cope with her fevered reaction and, in fact, had . . . many times 
on dates when the man wasn't quick enough. Men always insisted on those damn 
preliminaries instead of jumping right in to the main event. She tried to 
keep her mind off her straining, vibrating gland packed into the dewy 
muscles which were racked with spasms. 

Gwen couldn't sublimate the urge that stiffened her clit. She had to have 
release. She had to! 

Gwen's arm was still locked in the soldier's grip, but he was enthralled by 
the show on the ground. Gwen saw his cock, rising and straining. He only 
glanced at her from time to time. His yellow face glistened with sweat. She 
eased her free hand under her jacket, then under her uniform belt. Her 
fingers were cold but they warmed fast on her plump stomach. 

When the girl on the ground screamed one last time, Gwen's guard turned 
toward the sound. Gwen shoved her finger inside her panties, tearing the 
gauzy fabric. The tear, a fragile sound against the larger fabric of 
Vickie's agony, sounded at her like the howl of hell. For she realized the 
one thing about herself that she had kept buried all these years. 

As Vicki writhed, her gouting blood drenching the gray snow, Gwen rammed her 
index finger into her humid, muscled cunt, striking her clit. Her curved 
wrist was cramped against her flesh, and the heavy metal buckle. Her 
movements were limited. But she had enough space to savage her clitoris. 

The brief movements were enough to catch her guard's attention. He grabbed 
her wrist, jerking her arm. 

"Bitch," he hissed, "white bitch. You like!" 

He whipped one leg behind Gwen's leg and forced her to fall back, knocking 
the wind out of her. The guard, fell with her, shoving a knee between her 
legs as they went down. His breath was hot, syrupy sweet. The stink of 
armpits rose with the aroma of musk that issued from Gwen's cunt. 

She was on fire now and the heat kept her from feeling the cold dawn. She 
barely felt the rending of her pants and shirt, the rough hands tearing her 
bra and panties. She didn't feel the thumbs pulling her open, exposing her 
clitoris or the cold ground on her round, naked ass. 

His cock was burning into her flesh. She kept her eyes open. She saw his 
lips drawn tight across stumpy yellow teeth; flesh strained across large 
cheekbones; eyes slitted, the irises glimmering; the uneven strands of 
straight black hair that protruded from beneath the cap. She saw, and what 
she saw heightened the ecstasy of being raped. 

He slammed deeper into her hole, bruising, hurting. Gwen came once, twice, a 
half dozen times more before he shuddered and thrust like a pile driver for 
the last time. His come scalded all the way to her aching breasts. Her body 
was sheathed in sweat. And, for the first time in her twenty-five years, 
Gwen was totally satisfied. 

The guilt, she thought as he withdrew, will come later. 

But it didn't. The long cold days passed, and the nights passed and with 
each night on the road another woman was fucked brutally as they tortured 
her to death. 

But they didn't touch Gwen again. And she wondered why. 

After breakfast of the sixth day, the squat, sadistic officer and his aide 
separated her from the other prisoners and took her into the officer's tent 
where she was told to sit on a deck chair. She was given brandy. She coughed 
on the strong bitterness but was glad for the warmth. 

"We hope you haven't caught pneumonia," the chink officer said in perfect 
English. His aide took a blanket from the cot and draped it over her 
shoulders. The out-of-character thoughtfulness startled Gwen but she was 
thankful for the unexpected warmth enveloping her. 

It's my turn, she thought. Her pussy tingled in response. 

"Why the concern?" she asked. The fatigue and brandy eased the fear. "What's 
one more American nurse to you?" she knew she would die as the others 
had-horrible, but with a cock in her cunt or her asshole or mouth. And it 
still excited her. 

"A rare woman like yourself is. . . . " Smiling, the officer shrugged as he 
couldn't" find the right phrase. "It isn't what you are," the officer 
continued, pouring more brandy. "It's what you can become that makes you 
special." 

Sudden fright leaped in her. She let it pass without visible reaction. 

"Our commander has been looking for certain women, but so far hasn't found 
many. None, in fact." The officer lit a cigarette. 

"What kind of woman is that?" Her voice was steady. They weren't going to 
kill her. But they could still abuse her and the excitement at that was hard 
to hide. 

The aide was at her side. "The woman he wants must enjoy what you enjoy," he 
said against her right ear. 

The aide was seated beside Gwen. She hadn't heard him move the chair to her, 
or heard him sit. 

"I enjoy . . . " Where were the words? Why couldn't she find them? 

"Yes, what?" the officer said. He grinned and passed her his cigarette. 

"What I enjoy is comfort," she said after sucking desperately at the 
Paris-made cigarette. The hot smoke threatened to explode her lungs. 

"You could be naked, on an iceberg, with only the heat of a man for comfort, 
and you would enjoy it, if the man was forceful and brutal," the officer 
snarled. 

The suddenness of his reaction made Gwen jump. She spilled brandy across her 
knuckles. That reaction, like her reaction to Vicki's death, shattered her 
outward stoic pose. Showing her vulnerability frightened her more than what 
she'd seen these last few days. 

The aide tossed her a handkerchief. "Don't stink up the blanket. It's the 
only one I have." 

"Corporal Kang and myself aren't field soldiers, even though we served our 
apprenticeship in the field. We were pulled from the ranks and trained for . 
. . well, as you Americans say on your induction posters . . . Kang and I 
were trained to induct very special people to do very special work for us." 

"Induce is the word, not induct," Gwen said, to give herself more time to 
figure out what the officer was trying to tell her. 

"Induct, induce, seduce . . . what does it matter," the officer waved his 
hand. 

Cued, the corporal left the tent. 

"So, I've been recruited? For what?" Gwen sat back, blowing smoke columns at 
the short, husky officer. Her thighs trembled. She wondered if he would fuck 
her here, now. 

"First, I'm Captain Wong. And second, you should know, nurse Gwen, you must 
do anything I tell you." He didn't snap the words. He grinned pleasantly and 
put his hand between her legs. 

The wood frame and canvas chair squeaked and wiggled as Gwen's hips moved in 
response to the urging of his fingers. 

He smiled. The brandy was already a swollen sponge inside Gwen's brain, 
numbing the fibers. The blonde nurse was deadened enough to hear, understand 
and fully believe what he was going to say. Before he began, the captain 
made a mental note of how much brandy it took to put her into this relaxed, 
trancelike state. 

"In very simple terms, my major told me to tell you that he enjoys the 
company of big, blonde women. You are a big, blonde woman and, therefore, 
you have been spared. Ham-hung, my dear, is a very beautiful place. Even in 
the winter." 

The bow-legged corporal returned with a package. He placed it at the 
captain's elbow. 

The captain pushed the package across the narrow table. "Please open it." 

"A Care package already?" Gwen giggled. 

As she slipped the thin cord from the brown wrapped oblong package she 
couldn't help but feel guilt at escaping death. Her friends had already 
died, or were going to while she was headed in the opposite direction. 
Still, survival was ingrown in every human being. She had to survive even if 
it meant rutting with the animals. The guilt was that she knew she was going 
to enjoy it-fully. 

She threw back the wrapping, and gasped. The dress inside was sheer, black 
silk. It was electric to her touch. Carefully, she laid it on Captain Wong's 
field desk. 

"May I wear it now?" 

"Uh, not now." The officer smiled in his friendly way. "Later. After you've 
bathed." 

"Yes, that would be better." She looked up. "No point in dirtying this 
lovely dress." 

"None whatsoever." The captain sat up, produced a small notebook from a 
jacket pocket. "Now, I have work to do." He snapped his fingers and Corporal 
Kang appeared at the tent flap. 

When they were gone, Captain Wong made a quick notation in the book before 
pouring another brandy. The odor of her pussy clung to his fingers. He was 
careful not to mistake his glass for hers. Only a thin coating of the drug 
along the rim of her glass had induced her illusion. The nurse might be 
brainwashed without other physical inducements. But, then, Major Li would 
insist on them, he mused as he picked up the tattered, foul smelling dress 
and stuffed it in the trash basket on the ground by his feet. 

TWO 

Gwen was taken into the town, separately. Captain Wong and Corporal Kang 
accompanied her into town. She wore a blindfold which the captain said was a 
formality. In her case it really wasn't necessary, only a matter of policy. 
He offered her a brandy and she didn't balk at the blindfold. 

The ride was short. Gwen felt cement under her feet, then a door opened and 
she was standing on carpet. It was warm, and smelled clean wherever she was. 

"Please," Captain Wong said behind her, placing a hand at her spine and 
exerting a light pressure. A sexual thrill raced through her body from the 
'ouch on her buttocks. The captain's body heat diminished as he retreated. 
His footfalls were masked by the carpet. Another door directly in front of 
her opened. Faint footsteps approached. Body heat rose before her. Then 
smooth nailed hands, smelling of soap and cologne, touched her face. The 
blindfold came off and she found herself staring at a tall, slim 
unbelievably handsome Asian man. The suit he wore was reddish-black silk 
that shimmered as he reached a hand toward her face. 

As he touched her cheek she marveled at how young he was. No more than 
thirty, without a blemish on his tanned, handsome face. He reminded her of 
the part Charles Boyer played in a long ago film about inter-racial marriage 
in some mythical oriental kingdom. Handsome, unbelievably so. And appealing. 
She felt her cunt moisten. 

"You're even more attractive than Captain Wong said." His voice was deep and 
seemed to surround Gwen. 

"And you're gorgeous." Her voice was distant. But that didn't bother her. 
Nothing bothered her all of a sudden. 

"Please." He touched her arm with his hand. The cool diamonds on his fingers 
contrasted with the heat of her feverish flesh. This sudden rise in body 
temperature didn't worry her. either. She was relaxed, at peace, without a 
worry. Why should she worry? This doll of a human being was attractive . . . 
more than that, actually. And she sensed that the pay-off to this meeting 
was waiting in the next room. She constructed a fantasy of the bed, and them 
in it. 

For a moment she remembered Vicki. What she felt for this man mingled with 
the memory of that lovely black girl from Chicago who was in a shallow grave 
on an unnamed road in this hellhole of a country. 

"You seem tense," Major Li said as he held the chair for her. 

She sat beside him. "I was thinking." 

"About?" His hand was poised over a bottle of wine. 

"Us." 

"Oh, yes?" His voice took on a melodious timbre. 

"And someone else." 

"You frown. Was it someone that hurt you." 

"In a way. She was hurt. Terribly." 

"And that hurts you?" 

"She and I were never close. We had a pleasant working relationship. That's 
all." 

"Then, why. . . . " 

"Your people gutted her. And that. . . . " 

"Sickened you." 

"Aroused me." 

It was said, finally. Facing it lifted the ice blanket on Owen's heart. 

"My men are peasants, unschooled in civilized ways. They are capable of 
providing me with what I need to maintain a civilized way of life here, in 
the back country." He poured wine, offered her a glass and waited for her to 
take the first sip. "Like it?" 

"Delicious." 

"I'm so glad you're here." He squeezed her knee. "What is your name." 

"Gwen." 

"I'm Li." 

The meal was simple but well prepared and enjoyable. Gwen ate without 
tasting. 

Major Li patted his lips with a silk napkin and slowly pushed back his 
chair. "It's late and I imagine you want a bath before retiring." 

"Retiring? Is it that late already?" 

"I wasn't thinking of sleep." He touched her hand. Currents of electricity 
shot through her arm, across her breasts, down to her belly. 

Owen's fantasy had been on target. The bedroom beyond the dining hall had 
thick oriental carpets, red drapes and light wood paneling. There was a 
loveseat of pale blue velvet and beside that a dressing table. The other 
piece of furniture was the bed: a giant four-poster that could sleep an 
army. 

"The bathroom is there." Major Li pointed. 

"Won't you join me?" She crowded close to the Chinese major. She touched his 
chest, felt the slam of his heart. 

"Possibly." He fanny-patted her toward the door, his fingers brushing her 
anus. "Clean yourself, first. Then maybe T will scrub your back." 

"Oh, yes, darling." Gwen trembled all over. She could hardly wait for him to 
rape her ass. Before closing the door she looked back, and said, "Please 
hurry, Li." 

He smiled. "Yes. I'll hurry." 

His voice had an unexpected sharp edge. Gwen shut the door, wondering why. 
Well, the hell with voices. She wasn't Joan of Arc and didn't give a crap 
about voices. Stepping into the shower she began fantasizing. As the hot 
water cascaded over her stiff-tipped breasts she tried to imagine the 
major's cock in her. doing her, over and over, until she was drained. 

"Mmmmmm." she said, before she realized she was going to say it. "Ah." 

The water was so soothing. The soap smelled so sweet. All the tiny knots 
began to unwind. After a few minutes the only knot remaining was between her 
legs. The tenseness began at her thighs and shifted to her abdomen, and up 
to her breasts, then back down to her vagina. That little thing was pounding 
again. It felt heavy, painful. The pressure built but Gwen resisted. The 
water was hotter now and she was beginning to weaken. She switched to cold 
and the ice water bit into her swollen breasts and taut stomach. She did a 
little dance, under the spray, out of the spray, until her body temperature 
adjusted. Then she forced herself to remain still as the shower spray bit 
into her soft tits like thousands of little needles. She cupped her breasts, 
letting her thumbs gently massage the stiff peaks. But gentleness didn't 
ease the ache. She increased the pressure. When that didn't help, she 
lightly, then sharply pinched the thumb-sized nipples. 

"Ah, yeah, yeah, that's better." 

She continued squeezing as her hips slowly rocked. Goose flesh exploded. Her 
eyelids fluttered. The steady tattoo turned her skin pale. Her tongue darted 
across her lips. She chewed her lips, salivated, ached to taste Li's cock. 
Her hands dropped down her ribs to her belly. Her O-sized belly button 
exuded a sharp, musky aroma. Gwen was going to come. Any second now. She 
traced her navel, then let her hands drop to her thick, pale brown pelvic 
hair. The forest was slick with heavy jelly. Lust oil spattered her thighs 
and the cold water streamed down, making rivulets of dirt on her thighs, to 
her knees. She parted her legs. Her hand cupped the puckered labia. Thumb 
and forefinger found her clit. She pinched the swollen, throbbing gland. 

"Uh," she grunted, tightening and relaxing her buttocks. Her ass cheeks 
quivered, lifted and lowered as she began to move slowly, swaying from side 
to side. "Li . . . Li. . . . " 

"I'm here!" 

And, he was. Somehow he'd entered the bath room without Gwen hearing. Wiry, 
all muscle, without blemish. And the most beautiful thing about him was his 
cock. It was monstrous, yet a beautifully awesome weapon, big veined, 
crimson-topped. Fully extended. Pointed right at her. 

"Oh . . . oh . . . " she whimpered, shoving her finger into her vagina. 

The Chinese major pulled her hand away from her pussy. "No, Gwen. Not that 
way. Not when I am here." 

He spread the nurse wide open, lifted her in his arms until her arms were 
around his neck. He spread his legs, then slowly lowered her until her 
spread-open vagina was positioned against the head of his prick. 

"Yes, yes," Gwen screamed, thrashing her hips against his smooth skin, 
burying her face in his thick, matted hair, kissing his skull, his forehead, 
while her breasts pressed his lips. 

He kissed, then chewed the stiff red nipples. But Major Li didn't lower her 
onto his cock. Gwen forced her hips downward. But he held her fast, allowing 
only his cockhead to enter her slot. 

"Oh, please, please, I can't . . . can't wait any more." 

Her screams echoed off the tiled walls. 

"Let me lead. Gwen, and I will make you feel an ecstasy that you've never 
felt before." 

She groaned, threw her head back, letting the ice water of the shower fill 
her eyes and mouth. 

He eased her down. Her belly slid against him. When her feet touched the 
floor, with a soft slap, he pushed her down, shutting off the water as she 
sagged to the cold tile. It was winter, she was outside and the snow was 
burning her naked bottom again. That quick fantasy passed and once again she 
was with Li. He pushed her onto her back. 

"Yes," she screamed as he squatted beside her, opening her lips with his 
hands. 

His face was passive, relaxed. No emotion showed in his eyes. But she didn't 
let that interfere with the strange feelings that dominated her twat. 

"Now, I will lead," he repeated. 

"Yes," she whimpered, all fight gone out of her. "Oh, please hurry. My cunt. 
. t . " 

He was at her side, squeezing her breasts, rolling those massive solid 
spheres with skillful hands. His thumbs pushed down on the nipples. They 
flicked up. blushing cherry-black, when he let them go. He made a move to 
kiss her on the mouth but then stopped, rolling onto her belly, pushing back 
her labia. She flung her legs around his smooth hips, locking him with her 
heels, drawing his cock to her cunt. His cockhead penetrated her. It was 
like a branding iron when it finally found her clitoris. He forced down, 
squashing her buttocks against the tile. Gwen's spine hurt, but that 
diminished as he explored every aching muscle in her twat. He began slowly 
and she had to hold back to avoid taking control. Let him lead, she told 
herself. Once, twice he struck her clit with his swollen pecker. He was 
going so slow . . . too slow. But she wasn't going to rush. 

With each pass, the throbbing in her slit intensified. It didn't hurt, 
though. In fact, as the sensation increased Gwen found herself liking it. 
This was something she'd never experienced, something she'd have to have 
from now on. 

"Are you ready?" Major Li was poised. His cock seemed indifferent to the 
ready heat of her twat as her hot muscles sucked his dick. 

"Yes," she bleated. 

He picked up the pace, bruising her, making her love the feeling of his hard 
rod thrashing the inside of her hole. 

"Ugh . . . ah . . . ah . . . aaaahhhhh . . . yes, oh, yes. . . . " 

Gwen was coming, exploding, her heart thundering, her body alive with a 
thousand different sensations. For the first time she was totally alive, 
experiencing orgasm as though for the first time. 

He was plunging his prick in her, ramrod-ding her with that deliciously 
hard, massive cock. She unlocked her grip on his backside, threw her legs 
wide and toward the "ceiling, and kicking, flinging her pelvis harder 
against him. 

Major Li stopped suddenly. Before Gwen could react, he pulled back and 
twisted her around, face toward the floor and forced her shoulders against 
the tiles. Her nipples were crushed against the cold ribbed hardness and her 
belly rubbed against the puddles that had gathered there, squishing the cold 
water between her cleavage and thighs. 

"Now, my dear Gwen, it must be my turn." 

She felt his weight on her back, felt his hands spread her buttocks. 

"Oh, no . . . no . . . oh, my Christ, no . . . not that. . . . " 

Her voice echoed and re-echoed. Yet it wasn't really her voice at all. It 
couldn't be, since what she really wanted was what he was about to do to 
her. 

He held her ass cheeks open. His cock slowly entered those snug inner 
muscles. She twisted and turned beneath him, but not too much, just enough 
to excite the brute that was in every man. His shaft steadily advanced until 
the head struck the curled inner asshole. She bellowed as his pulsating 
prick reamed her, right up to her belly, making her own bowels rumble. Her 
belly was hot now and that heat spread quickly. She worked a hand under her 
belly, between her legs as his cock shoved in and out of her asshole. Gwen 
reached her hole without spilling him off, or slowing his jagged, rapid 
rhythm. 

Major Li rammed his thick cock in and out. drawing back just far enough to 
make another deep advance. Once his cockhead fell out, but he stuffed it 
back in, missing only a single beat. 

While exploding stars passed through her head, blinding her, Gwen pinched 
her clitoris, matching the inundation of come that spilled in her and 
splattered out and across her tense buttocks. 

Then, as suddenly as he had penetrated her rectum, he withdrew. His wet cock 
slurped out of her sucking asshole. Something sticky and hot and putrid fell 
across Gwen's rump. Her own waste, she imagined distantly. Well, it was a 
part of her, just like her own orgasm. 

"Waste not, want not." She laughed softly, inhaling shower water as she 
remained on her belly, the dull pleasurable aches gradually subsiding. 

Major Li stood over her, his face impassive as he made rapid calculations in 
his head. Brown feces remained on his cock head. Hon-would she react? Was 
she ready? From the way she accepted what he'd just done, Major Li knew she 
was ready for the next step in her "treatment." 

"Here," he said softly. "A present." He jerked Gwen onto her back. Her eyes 
were heavy lidded. She was seeing him through a mist. 

"Wha . . . ? " Her mouth was dry, parched. Her body was relaxed. She was 
totally at peace. 

He squatted, his legs on either side of her shoulders. "I want you to clean 
me. Like a cat cleans its paws." He leaned forward, bracing both palms over 
her temples, pinning her long blonde hair against the floor. 

The smell was strong. But it was no stronger than her own smell when she was 
coming. And it was a part of her. Eyes shut tight, in case she couldn't 
stand the sight of it, she opened her mouth and pretended that she was 
taking just the cock of the man who loved her, the man she loved with a 
bizarre intensity. He shoved his cock down her throat and she gagged, choked 
on the taste. But as her tongue beat the shaft the taste changed, became a 
bitter sweet confection . . . one that she was addicted to. She suckled 
ravenously, sucking him in deep draughts. The come exploded, nearly choking 
her. She swallowed rapidly to keep up with the spurting, sweet juice. Then 
his cock shaft deflated and withdrew. He hovered above her, dripping that 
opaque sweetness over her eyes, lips. She did what she knew he wanted her to 
do: she licked her lips, then ran her fingers over her eyes and licked her 
fingers. She opened her eyes. He was smiling. 

"Yes, my dear Gwen, I have looked for an eternity for one as sweet as you." 

THREE 

It all seemed a dream. As Gwen lay in that big, comfortable bed with her 
lover fast asleep at her side, she tried to recall what had happened in the 
shower room. Somehow it was all turned around, twisted in her head, like 
some kind of insane nightmare. A thousand tiny aches told her that it had 
been no dream. 

She thought about it, tried to reconcile the kinky things she'd done with 
her upbringing. She couldn't, of course. Young educated ladies from rural 
Nebraska towns just didn't go down on a Chinese cock like she'd done the day 
before. Fucked in the ass, sucking on a cock coated with her own shit . . . 
those things nice young ladies didn't do. 

But she had enjoyed it all. Gwen had to admit her pleasure just like she had 
to admit that the perverse sexual butchery she'd witnessed en route to 
Hamhung had excited her. 

That was another pleasure that nice young ladies didn't allow to happen, not 
unless they ran right out and consulted the nearest neighborhood shrink. She 
was troubled by the way the other girls were treated. It was like a dream. 
Sometimes she thought the others were part of her imagination with their 
cries of pain and split thighs. Then her tongue hungered for a red-lipped, 
writhing pussy. 

Major Li stirred beside her, turned over to brush his cock against her body. 
"Did you sleep well, Gwen?" His breath was sweet, like he'd just brushed his 
teeth. 

"Fairly well, Major. And, you?" This dialog was right out of a soap opera 
but, again, he was leading. Sometimes she even forgot why she called the 
yellow man 'major.' 

"I slept soundly, dreaming of you the whole time." 

"I know whose hole you dreamed about, all right." Gwen felt like laughing 
girlishly at her own jokes. 

"T didn't mean to rape you." He glanced away, sheepish. "I do love you, my 
big, blonde, beautifully built Amazon. With the long golden hair that hangs 
to your round, solid behind." His hands remained at his sides. 

"You did what you thought I'd like. You knew me even better than I knew 
myself." 

"You've never done it before?" Major Li sounded genuinely surprised. 

"Couldn't you tell?" Gwen was secretly pleased. She felt compelled to make 
this strange, quiet man be pleased with her. 

"No. And it must have hurt you." Again it sounded like genuine sympathy. 
Speaking about it made the pain start throbbing again in her buttocks. 

"It should've. But didn't. Don't ask me why." 

"I know why." Major Li sat up. He was as thoroughly military naked as 
dressed. 

"You do?" It was Gwen's turn to sound genuinely surprised. 

"Yes. You wanted me to take you that way. Your need was so strong it 
overpowered your sense of discomfort." 

"I don't know. In any event. . . . " She kicked back the covers. "I'm going 
to visit the toilet, then I'll clean myself off a little bit, and then I'll 
be back and we can. . . . " 

"Go sightseeing." 

"Huh?" Gwen felt a sudden sense of loss. A fire burned in her for the thick, 
stubby yellow cock in her mouth or cunt or ass. 

"Since I'm . . . as you Americans say . . . am out of gas, I might as well 
take this time to show you around, show you off, while I fill up again." 

"Oh?" Gwen leered at the major. "Well, Major, you just stay in bed, maybe 
doze a few minutes, because when I get back. I'll see what I can do to get 
your tank filled." 

He started to protest, then shrugged and smiled. "It is written the host 
should always accede to a guest's wishes." 

"That's very good house manners." Gwen hurried from the room, breasts, belly 
and buttocks jiggling. 

When she returned, Major Li was right where he'd been, in bed, the silk 
sheet twisted around his hips, his hairless chest bare, the tiny nipples 
full, a patina of sweat gathering in the hollow of his sternum. He smiled 
and stretched a hand. 

"Now, just what can you do to make me large enough to satisfy such a 
bottomless pit as yourself?" 

Gwen snuggled against him. He noticed something in her hand. She kept it 
tightly balled inside her fist and he wasn't able to see what it was. But 
the major was delighted that she had the will to invent some pleasure for 
him. The big blonde nurse was truly exceptional material. 

"I'll be satisfied, my darling, only when you're satisfied." She kissed the 
major, holding her fisted arm away from him. 

"I am ready." He let her kiss him full on the mouth, the chin. 

She chewed his lower lip, tasting the sweetness of his breath: she nibbled 
at his chin, tasting his sweat. As she worked down his chest, seizing first 
one nipple and then the other, Gwen's own heat rose deep in her legs. But he 
remained limp. 

She nuzzled his thighs, smelled the stronger aroma of his groin. She also 
caught the perfume of soap. Had he bathed during the night? She remembered 
the major offing her a drink of something and, half asleep, she drank. Then 
she heard the water running in the bathroom, and then she dozed off again. 

What a thoughtful man. Bathing in the middle of the night just to be fresh 
and sweet smelling for his woman. He really was a wonderful man. And, to 
repay his thoughtfulness, was going to give him everything he wanted. And 
maybe a few things he didn't expect. 

She eased him over on his side, facing the opposite direction. She nibbled 
his supple butt flesh, and he automatically moved closer. 

"Just open a little bit, precious," she cooed. 

The major seemed amused. But he moved as she directed. 

"This'll be New Year's Eve on Times Square, my precious. Yes it will," she 
husked. She worked a finger between his cheeks. He tensed. She lightly 
slapped him. "No, sir," she reprimanded in a light voice. "You relax and let 
me do this." 

"Yes, it has to be like that, doesn't it." Major Li smiled his 
self-satisfaction. Everything was developing better than he expected. 

Then he gurgled as Gwen stuffed a hot. dry wash cloth between his asscheeks. 

"Gwen," he chortled as she shoved the rag in past his anal sphincter. 

He shivered and a spasm racked his hips. His cock rose. Gwen held the rag in 
place as she turned him sideways so she could get to his slowly burgeoning 
cock shaft. 

"It likes the hot towel treatment, Major Li." Saliva dripped onto his thigh 
as she bent, open mouthed, to taste his swollen cock. While she worked the 
rag in and out of his asshole she tongue-teased the underside of his prick. 

His rose with each lick and the steady, gentle pressure of the rag. She 
licked faster, forced the towel deeper into the Chinese major's rectum until 
his cock was full length. Then Gwen swung her buttocks around and lowered 
her mouth onto his shaft, backing toward him as her tongue wrapped itself 
around his cock-head. 

"Take me, dammit," she groaned, seizing his prick head between her teeth. 
Her hand remained on the rag hem. With her other hand Gwen braced herself on 
the bed. Her big, ripe cunt lips touched his chin. The major parted them, 
raising his head toward the puckered labia, touching, finally, the lower 
slope of Gwen's vagina. Lust oil dripped from her pussy, making her flexed 
thighs slick. As her thighs trembled, lust juice dripped over the major's 
chin. He worked Gwen's cunt lips apart, took the clitoris first on his 
tongue tip, then between his teeth, straining to keep in position so as not 
to make her lose her grip. 

Just as Major Li was about to ejaculate in Gwen's sucking mouth she felt the 
first bursts of pre-come. She jerked the rag. It snapped free, whipping his 
prostate. With a bellow, the major flattened against the mattress and 
exploded. The orgasm was flung down her throat with an overwhelming force 
that choked off her breath. Gwen kept climaxing though, even though he'd 
stopped sucking her throbbing clitoris. Just when they both thought he was 
dry, a new wave of semen exploded in her mouth. When it finally stopped they 
collapsed, in the sixty-nine position, exhausted, sweating, breathing hard. 

"You're really some big shot," Gwen said later, not knowing what he expected 
her to say but filled with the desire to please him. 

"Yes," Major Li said simply. "I am." 

They were standing on the edge of the town square. Major Li had taken her 
from the compound to see Hamhung. Square was exactly what it was. On all 
four sides were one story shops with steepled roofs and shimmering white 
tile facades. The center of the small square was a fountain, with a naked 
stone boy gurgling water out of his mouth and navel. A stone bench 
surrounded the fountain. 

A 'perfect spot for lovers to sit and talk and enjoy the crisp, clear air, 
Gwen thought. It was right out of a distant movie musical, one of those 
love-is-everywhere epics she had enjoyed as a girl in her small home town. 

"It looks like it was built just for us, Major." 

She gripped his arm lightly, rubbing her tits against him as she thought of 
the cold fountain washing her cunt. 

He turned sharply, noted her serene, bright eyed expression. 

"Hamhung is a lovers paradise. Shall we?" He took her arm and gestured 
toward an arch at the end of the square opposite of where they were 
standing. 

They passed through the arch and were confronted by a one story stone 
building. There were no windows and the door was narrow and made of heavy 
wood with an iron-ribbed bar across its middle and a heavy iron lock. 

"This is where I work-where you and I will spend some time today, where we 
will get to know each other better." Major Li stood in front of the door as 
if it were a religious shrine. His face shone with perspiration. Suddenly 
the spell was broken. He inserted the key. tugged the door open. 

The room was windowless. The floor was laced by a drain that girdled all 
four sides of the building. Along the wall were heavy leather straps 
fastened to round iron hoops which were drilled into the cement. In the 
center of the room was a table which stood about three feet off the floor 
and was made of stone. Leather thongs were fastened to four iron hoops. It 
all looked terrifying. But a curious lethargy overwhelmed Gwen. Shivers of 
sexual anticipation started at her pussy lips and flowed up her cunt. She 
wanted to finger herself, but resisted the temptation. 

"This is where you work, Li?" Her voice was an awed caress that invited him 
to begin with her. 

"Some of the time. Work. And pleasure." Spittle formed in the corners of 
Major Li's mouth. He knew the American nurse felt almost the same about this 
room as he. His lips were stretched across his capped teeth. 

Gwen didn't feel fear, only trust. Li wouldn't hurt her too much. They had 
things to do together. And she needed pain. She looked forward to it. 

"You needn't worry, Gwen. You're so lovely when you smile. I couldn't hurt 
such a lovely creature too much." 

"I know you wouldn't. I trust you, Major." She trembled and wondered how 
much pain he would give her. Enough, she hoped fervently. 

She turned and embraced Major Li and his warmth. His kisses put aside any 
fear that she might have felt. 

"Then we will begin, my darling American nurse?" He began unbuttoning the 
one piece cotton dress. 

"What must I do?" 

"Just close your eyes, remain still and let me lead. Like before only this 
time . . . this time. . . . " Major Li was breathing hard. His powerful body 
odor cut through the soap and cologne. "This time it will be so much more 
fun. For you. I will only be an instrument through which you will achieve 
supreme satisfaction." 

"That's what I want." Gwen trembled. Her heart fluttered. Spasms racked her 
belly, made her light headed. 

The dress fell to the floor. Next came the bra. Her massive breasts lolled. 
As the warm air kissed the nipples they blushed and hardened. Goose bumps 
dotted the alabaster smoothness. Sweat circled her belly button and as her 
muscles rippled drops of moisture ran toward her bush. He peeled back her 
panties and her aroma welled up, as intense as the love sweat, gouting her 
bush and thighs. 

"Nnnn," she whimpered, flinching as Major Li jerked hard, pulling the panty 
cup free of her labia. The garment came down, making a sucking, gasp-like 
sound. 

Gwen was racked by shivers. If she didn't sit down she would pass out. She 
reached for his shoulders, to brace herself, but he knocked her hands aside. 

"I'm going to fall, Li." 

"In a moment, my precious." And there was that cold hard sound again, the 
sound she didn't like but wasn't afraid of. 

He was on his knees, pulling the panties to her ankles. "Now step out of 
them, Gwen." And after she had done what he ordered, he rose, embracing, 
massaging first her calves, then her buttocks, then the small of her back 
and finally her shoulders. By now she was dizzy. Her eyelids were heavy; she 
was numb and her cunt ached so. 

"Will you do exactly as I wish?" he whispered in her ear. 

"Yes, Li." She leaned against him for support. His uniform, with all the 
decorations, cut her breasts. The coarse fabric rubbed her belly. The 
sensations, and his aromas, and presence, were enough to swell her clit. 

"Then do as I say." He held her waist and escorted her to the table. 

"Whatever you want. Only, please, do it now." 

"On the table." 

She let him help her up. The cold cement soothed the heat of her flesh. 

"Now you will be kind to my friends. Very kind. Very attentive. Very, very 
willing." 

"Friends? What do they want me to do?" 

"Are you afraid?" 

"No." 

"Are you repelled?" 

"Not if you want me to do this." 

"What do you feel?" 

"Fear." 

"Ah." 

"Fear that you won't want me when they're finished with me." 

"I will want you more than I want you already." 

"Even if I smell of their bodies, of their come?" 

"Even then." 

"Then," she said, trancelike, "I will do for them what I want to do for 
you." 

"And we will make love. Later. And it will be more wonderful than what we've 
done." Major Li backed toward a wall switch. He pressed the stud and the a 
moment later two men entered. Through the fog that seemed to overwhelm her, 
Gwen recognized the two: Captain Wong-short and husky; Corporal Kang--medium 
height and build. They approached, stepping briskly like soldiers on parade. 
Kang reached the stone table first. Out of respect for his superior officer 
he stepped aside, allowing the short Captain Wong to go ahead. Gwen felt the 
heat rise, overpowering her fear. All she thought about, as she listened to 
Wong strip and drop his quilted blue uniform on the floor, was Li . . . 
waiting somewhere in this room . . . waiting and watching and, she hoped, 
enjoying her performance. She wanted Li to see how well she did so he would 
want her even more than he did. Through his friends, she would increase his 
love for her. 

The sound of rough fabric and hollow buttons hitting the floor suddenly 
stopped. Wong was naked. His bare feet slapped on cement. Then she smelled 
his sweat and foul breath. She felt the fragile brushing against her leg; he 
was beside her and what she felt were the hairs of his leg. 

"Open wider," the Captain ordered. "And open your eyes, American bitch." 

She obeyed. This man had to prove something, had to vent his anger. And she 
would be his rage object. But Gwen knew accepting everything without a 
whimper would prove her strength, her strange love for the Major. 

Wong's rough hands were kneading her inner thigh. He leered when he felt the 
love oil on her soft, white inner thighs. 

"You like? Answer." 

"I like, no, love any man my man wants me to love." Gwen's voice was soft, 
far away. 

"And who, white bitch, is your man?" Wong's voice was hard. His hands were 
at her yellow haired cunt now. 

"Major Li." 

Wong jabbed a thumb into her vagina. "Is this what Major Li does for you?" 

"I . . . " She winced as the thumb touched her clit. "I don't understand." 

"Does he touch you like this, before he fucks you, American bitch." Wong's 
voice was harder, a harsh hiss, like a snake's outcry. 

"He loves me in many ways, with many moods." 

Wong's thumb was agitating her clitoris. She wondered if he felt her come 
start. He laughed as she flinched and brought up one leg, tightening his 
thumb to her clit. 

"The bitch loves it any way she can get it." 

"And she will get it many different ways today." Kang, like the dutiful, 
obedient servant, remained beside the stone table, unmoving. hands at his 
sides, watching. 

Somewhere in the shadows of the window-less room, the impassive Major Li 
watched, too, his hands on a heavy leather thong. As Captain Wong twisted 
Gwen's clitoris, the major's hand clenched the thong tighter until his 
knuckles turned red. then white. 

Gwen grunted with relief. Captain Wong had fingered her to climax. The squat 
Chinese withdrew his hand, examined the substance that oozed down his thumb 
to his palm. 

"Here." He leered and shoved the thumb to her mouth. 

She relaxed her jaw, let him shove the soiled member between her teeth. 
"Suck it," he shouted. 

She licked his thumb, gasping, making the captain's pussy tasting thumb 
taste as good as Li's cock. As she suckled, Wong's laugh became more 
guttural, husky with desire. She didn't have to look down. She knew he was 
getting hard. She tried to guess where he'd stick it. 

At least I only have three possible places. She allowed herself the luxury 
of the whimsy. She controlled the laugh. 

"Here." The captain opened her palm. He placed his pulsating prick in her 
hand. "I want you to play with this for awhile. But if you make me come I 
shall be very angry. I shall have to discipline you, then." Captain Wong's 
voice was husky, as he was himself. But his tone was lyrically Chinese. 

Gwen didn't know why, but the threat implied by the crude Chinese peasant 
sent thrills racing through her body, tingling from her crotch to her tits. 
Her eyes gleamed and her interest was obvious. 

In the rear of the room Major Li chuckled. As if on cue, the captain laughed 
gutturally. Only Kang remained stoic. His eyes were watching but his mind 
was elsewhere. Gwen saw him out of the corner of her eye but didn't give him 
a second thought. She was too distracted to pay attention to anything other 
than the awesome weight of Captain Wong's cock in her hand, and the threat 
that rang in her ears. 

She bounced the prick, not paying attention to its owner. He was laying 
still as she pumped his cock shaft. Captain Wong was waiting for the game to 
end, for her to lose. It was a simple, stupid game but one that Wong had 
initiated and, therefore, the game had to be played by his rules to its 
ultimate conclusion. 

So be it, Gwen thought, jerking, pumping, squeezing his soft, slippery meat. 
The shaft was sweat slick. The vein pulsed like a flood-swollen riverbed. 
Her hand slipped up the yellow shaft to his caman cockhead. She ran a nail 
over the slit. Wong was gasping. 

Not much longer, she figured. Then the game, or at least the first phase of 
it, would be over. And what then? Gwen imagined what would happen next. The 
room told her what she could expect and she welcomed it, was ready to 
embrace it like a long separated lover. She imagined the ecstasy of the 
yellow captain doing brutal things to her body and her cunt and her tits. 

She turned sideways to face the husky captor. His slant eyes were shut and 
his usually passive face was twisted. She could see his heart slamming 
against his pale, meaty chest. She twisted and turned his cock shaft while 
she stroked the cockhead. All she got was more pre-come. 

Ignoring the throbbing in her loins, Gwen scooted down, the cement 
scratching her sides, sending a jarring sensation through her vagina. A 
sensation that almost set off her orgasm. 

"This is what you need," she rasped. "This is what I want to do to you, to 
show you how I really feel about you." Her spit sprayed his lower belly and 
curled hair. He whimpered and kicked once, nearly knocking her away. "Yes, 
you want me to take you. But you don't want a kiss, do you? No. Don't 
answer. I already know what you want, how you must have it. How you will 
have it." 

She clasped his cockhead between her teeth and while her tongue battered 
that sensitive, spongy dome her teeth lightly chewed the shaft. 

Wong was silent, but he clutched her hair, held her face to his cock. From a 
distance came the jagged laughter of the Major. A laugh of triumph, of 
finishing the ultimate creation. That phrase stuck in Gwen's mind. She 
didn't know why. Then Wong's yelp, and frantic motions disturbed the 
reverie. Plenty of time to think later, lots of time to relish the moment. 

She suckled faster, drenching his prick with spit. As she laved his cock 
with her tongue. Gwen steadily increased the pressure, moving her jaws side 
to side, brushing her teeth back and forth along his swollen pecker. 

He shouted, tensed, climaxed. As the Chinese captain's come spurted she 
drank it down, savoring the bitter taste, becoming drunk on the nectar. But 
not so drunk that she couldn't remember that little variation she had 
planned for Captain Wong. As he crested, and slowly became empty she snapped 
her jaws together. He screamed. The sound of ecstasy became one of pain. 

"Bitch, American bitch," he wailed, pounding her head, shoulders, jerking 
her head back by the hair. 

She locked her jaws, took the blows without lightening the pressure. She 
bore down, giving him what she knew he wanted, making his revenge more 
sweet. The more intense his revenge, the more her pleasure would be. And she 
realized that as though she had been programmed to think that way. 

"Let him go," Kang said. The stoic corporal was pulling her back by the 
shoulder. He will kill you!" 

Gwen thought she detected concern in the Chinese soldier's voice. 

He wants a piece, too, before they finish with me, and sent me down the same 
road Vicki went down. Somehow, even that didn't seem so bad to Gwen. 

Kang freed his officer. Holding Gwen down by the shoulders he shoved her 
hands into the looped thongs on the stone table. "This is how it must be 
done now," he whispered in her ear as he spread her naked body on the cold 
stone. 

"I want it this way." Her words descended from some distant dream cloud. 

"No, Kang, not on her back. On her face." 

Captain Wong was off the table. His cock showed teeth marks but the skin 
wasn't broken. "Tie her tight, Kang. I don't want her getting free." 

Kang undid the loops, turned her over. Gwen relaxed and let him guide her 
onto her belly. The loops were retied. Then her legs were spread and her 
feet tied. 

Now comes the discipline, she thought, and hoped. Her skin prickled for the 
sensuous pain to start burning its way into her body. 

Captain Wong was cursing now. The words spilled out. She heard the crack of 
leather and looked toward the sound. The husky officer stood at the foot of 
the altar. She could see only the top of his head and his eyes. They glowed 
like rat's eyes. He raised a hand and Gwen saw a thin, long, black leather 
whip. The base of the weapon was tied with hardened hemp, and knotted to 
make holding the weapon easier. The tip was knotted also and the lash 
smelled exotic, not sweet, not bitter. More like an expensive liqueur. 
Different but desirable. 

He approached. "You see?" The Chinese officer held the whip under Gwen's 
nose. "See it? Smell it?" 

"Yes." Her voice was strongly defiant. 

"She has spirit," Major Li said in the background as if she weren't there. 

"It will be broken!" Captain Wong also seemed to pay no attention to her 
existence when he wasn't looking at her. 

The Captain found a sliver of cement on the table rim. He chipped the sliver 
free and scratched her bicep. Gwen blinked. It was like the scratch happened 
to someone else. A drop of blood came to the surface. The captain rubbed a 
segment of the whip against the cut. 

Gwen felt nothing at first. A few seconds later a deep burning spread 
through her bicep. That burning matched what she was feeling in her crotch. 
She wasn't afraid of it, only of showing her anticipation. She scowled and 
the captain was fooled. 

"You feel that, American bitch ? That is only a scratch. Imagine the whip 
biting your back, your ass and that grease penetrating the wounds, burning 
all the way down to your soul, if. indeed, you whites have souls." He 
stepped back to savor her reaction. 

She didn't disappoint him. 

Shaking, whimpering, twisting, crying, begging. Gwen tugged at her bonds. 
Her plump buttocks flexed and quivered and she arched her back in a vain 
effort to free herself. Captain Wong smiled. His cock lifted. He spread his 
legs for balance. He moved his arm back and forward, uncoiling the fifteen 
foot whip. It snapped and hissed in the air. and crackled when the tip 
struck the stone wall behind him. He played with the leather, his eyes never 
leaving Gwen's voluptuous golden form which lay prostrate before him. He let 
the whip snap the back wall, then curled it so it threw shadowy curlicues 
across Gwen's back. She was crying real tears that dampened the cement 
table, turning the white stone beneath her face into smudged, spotted gray. 
He swung the whip over his head so it arced across the width of the table. 
He lowered his hand. The whip came closer to her writhing form. Closer and 
still closer as he steadily lowered his arm an inch at a time. 

She heard the weapon's descent, measured it's closeness. She bit her lip. 
suddenly afraid, suddenly not sure. 

"You white bitch," Wong bellowed. "This is for what you and your people are 
doing to my people." The whip bit deep into the small of Gwen's back, making 
an obscene slapping sound, like dead fish being slammed into a wet brick 
wall. The force slammed her shoulders and hips against the stone, raising 
bruises. But she didn't cry out; she bit her lip. The blood came, thick, 
oily and sour on her tongue. The whip snapped back again, and she recoiled. 
Flames spread through the raw wound, like pouring raw alcohol on raw flesh. 
There was pain-but the pain was a kind of pleasure and as the flame spread 
through her body, a kind of ecstasy quickly followed. The only immediate 
discomfort was in Gwen's cunt. Already the lust oil bubbled and her clitoris 
swelled and her thighs tightened. Her nipples, crushed beneath the weight of 
her shoulders and ripe tits, were hard and the ache of the stiff tips in 
contact with the cement was, in itself, a sensation that heightened the 
already delirious feeling spreading through her being. 

"And, this, you white slut, is for what you did to me." Wong stepped back. 
His chest and arm muscles glistened. His face was set in an iron mask. He 
swung the whip and brought it down on her buttocks. "Agh," she screamed. 

Her buttocks tightened, quivered, loose-flesh surrounded the gash on the 
left cheek. Blood oozed. Fire erupted, igniting her cunt. 

The lash came down again, snapping as it cut the air, smacking wetly as it 
gouged another jagged wound in her supple hind end. 

"Aaaagggg," Gwen wailed as the whip cut a third wound, right to left in an 
ugly, narrow line. She raised her head, mouth wide, eyes squinted, face 
blood red. Her hair tossed from side to side as her head shuddered. Her neck 
was taut and her shoulders throbbed. "Bitch," Wong's voice was louder. It 
came down off the walls in an avalanche of hate. 

He raised the whip again and the snake chewed another gash down her high ass 
cheek. Then, while pain spasms still racked her back, and the sobs issued 
wetly from Gwen's mouth. Wong dropped the lash, undid the thongs at Gwen's 
feet and motioned for Kang. 

"Hold her open, Kang." 

Kang grabbed her ankle and raised her leg splitting her crotch. 

"You chewed on me, white bitch," Captain Wong snarled. "Now I chew on you." 
He gestured at Kang with the coiled whip. 

Kang gripped Gwen's legs, holding the one leg as high as he could. 

All Gwen was sure of was that during the beating, each time the whip cut 
her, she had climaxed. The orgasms left her weak, ready to faint. What was 
coming could kill her and knowing that she still wasn't afraid. 

Wong aimed the tip of the lash. He coiled it back, toward his waist, then 
snapped it open. The knotted tip struck her pudenda. She cried out, felt 
warmth and wetness between her legs, oozing into her vagina. The whip was 
coiled, aimed again, unleased again and this time that knotted end snapped 
between her labia. Her cunt throbbed as it never had before. She was oozing 
a river of cunt juice, begging for the caress of the leather. 

"Love me," Gwen begged, tossing her head back, eyes glazed and staring at 
the ceiling, at the evenly spaced cement blocks, at the tiny pockets of 
peeled plaster that held the blocks together. 

"Yes, I'll love you," Captain Wong snarled. The whip kissed her pussy again. 
"Wider, Kang. Open her cunt wider." 

Her clit was exposed now. Vibrating, waiting for the kiss of the whip. 
Waiting for the masterful, brute force that no man could ever give a woman. 

"Fucking slut!" Wong's voice echoed and reechoed across the room, filling 
every corner showering down on her, surging against her ears, penetrating 
her brain and reverberating against her skull. Gwen tensed, her wild eyes 
focusing on that nub of strength so small, smaller than the smallest cock, 
yet possessed of more strength than the strongest of men. The lash tip 
whirled toward her waiting, anxious clitoris. She made her pelvis relax, as 
the burning whip tore her labia like barbed wire. And she wan helpless, 
unable to stand the overwhelming passion that rent her flesh. Deeper now. 
past her labia to the bloated, pulsating clit. The nub slapped the clit. 

"Yaaaaahhhhh," she howled, kicking free of Corporal Kang's grasp. 

Gwen whipped her hips, thrusting her belly in and out to capture the whip 
end between her flailing thighs. Captain Wong saw this and rushed to her. 
Brandishing the lash's grip, he threw his hand forward. 

"You want the cock, here it is . . . the whip's cock." Slant eyes livid, the 
Chinese officer jammed the polished grip into her snatch, corkscrewing the 
sweat-drenched dildo up her convulsing cunt. 

She went numb, feeling only the turning pressure in her pussy and the sting 
in her clitoris and the soothing fires across her buttocks. Gwen puckered 
her lips. Her face became peaceful and her eyes shut. Wong noted the 
American nurse's reaction and that heightened his anger. Still grinding the 
whip handle into her vagina, Wong turned Gwen on her side, climbed over so 
he faced her backside. The whip stuck obscenely from her crotch, her cunt 
lips sucking it. The deep welts, the reddish-purple smears, the odor of her 
orgasm stiffened the Captain's prick. With his free hand he spread her wide, 
smeared blood in her ass to grease the snug inner muscles. 

His fingers were rough. Gwen wanted to kick him away, but her legs wouldn't 
move. 

She tried once and couldn't do it and quickly lost interest. Wong had 
already given her pleasure. Now it was his turn. Let him do whatever he 
wanted. Whatever it was it couldn't match what she'd just experienced. 
Nothing could be that wonderful. 

He crowded close to her butt, directing his cockhead through the narrow 
crease. He crushed his hips against those supple cheeks and forced his cock 
through her clenched ass muscles, drilling into her rectum. 

That again, she thought. That wonderful ending in the end. She moved her ass 
down to meet the upward thrust of Captain Wong's thick cock. As he quickened 
the pace, Gwen matched the up and down pistonings of his cock with her 
pneumatic ass. 

"She loves it," Wong shouted gleefully to the impassive Corporal Kang and 
Major Li. almost invisible in the shadows. 

"Yes . . . yes . . . YES. . . . " 

The sting of his climax shot through Gwen's loins, triggering another orgasm 
in her butt. She kept shoving against Captain Wong even after he went soft 
and tried to withdraw. She kept her ass muscles tight, trying to hold him 
until he got hard again. But he pushed her away and climbed off the table. 
He stepped in front of her, his feet slapping hollowly on the cement blocks. 
When he reached her shoulders he pulled Gwen to the edge of the table. Her 
tits sagged on the damp stone. The tips were hard, blushing. 

"You greased me with your foul dung, bitch. You will clean me off." 

She opened her mouth to welcome that broad, heavy, flaccid, coated thing. 

"No," he said, pulling away. "I've already felt your teeth." He motioned for 
Kang. The faithful flunkie appeared. "Hold her shoulders down." Her legs 
twisted under her. she prepared herself for what was to come. 

Wong climbed on the table and settled himself on her belly. Scooting 
forward, he positioned his cock in her cleavage and folded her twin tits 
against his prick. He rubbed until the cleavage and sides of the two muscles 
were smeared with brownness of her asshole. He kept rubbing, reaching a 
semi-erection in her cleavage. He got off. 

"Now, Kang, she is yours." Captain Wong smiled. His cum had splattered hotly 
against Gwen's face. He was entranced by the hot. white liquid on her 
cheeks. 

She watched her attacker retreat. Where is Li? Why isn't he taking me as 
he'd promised? How much longer must I have to wait for him ? 

All she had. as a substitute, was Corporal Kang . . . a man of thin bones, 
sagging flesh . . . a scrawny, weary man . . . with a cock to match. So 
small, not big enough to do any damage or any good to Gwen's way of 
thinking. As he ambled from the shadows, where his uniform was folded, his 
little prick bobbed. It moved slightly, like a sleeping snake reacting to a 
mild wind. He climbed onto the cement table. The organ's head touched the 
damp stone and began swelling. It was still semi-erect but. as Corporal Kang 
stretched beside her. the heat of her flesh charged the limp muscle. 

Wong and Li, observing the slowness of his erection, laughed, hooted, 
jeered. Kang remained stoic, a small smile on his face. Something in his 
expression . . . the forlornness that she hadn't noticed before, or the 
little boy lost pose . . . made her feel pity. Kang saw the emotion, and 
smiled. 

"Honey," she whispered, as he rolled one massive tit, "stick it between my 
tits. The heat'll get it up." 

"I'm not worried about making a show for them." He continued kneading the 
hefty globe. "T don't want to add to your hurt." 

That surprised her. 

"The hurt was . . . is fun, kicks. More than I've ever had before." 

"That isn't you, talking." Corporal Kang spread her breasts, mounted her, 
dropping his penis between those alabaster peaks. The aureoles became 
cherry-black; the nipples became erect thumbs. 

"It isn't Tinkerbell and the Christmas Fairly." She laughed. Her diaphragm 
kicked. Her tits slapped together. His cock felt snug in that humid flesh 
fist. 

"I won't hurt you," he breathed, moving back and forth. 

"Not the way you're doing it, chum." Another laugh. 

Captain Wong strode to the table. "I want tears, not laughter, Kang. If you 
can't inflict what we want with that tiny cock, use this." He shoved a heavy 
knife at Kang. "I won't need that." 

"t think you will, Corporal." He dug fingers into Kang's arm. "I think you 
will use it. Right now, Kang." 

Kang stopped moving. Gwen lay still, waiting, expectant. 

"Use it, Kang," Major Li ordered, from the shadows. 

Kang grasped the knife, holding it poised over her chin. "I'm sorry," he 
whispered when Wong was out of earshot. 

"Oh . . . oh . . . " She was quivering again. Every nerve was alive, 
waiting. Her snatch exuded the musky aroma of pre-orgasm. The oil surged, 
turning her silky white thighs a pale, shimmering sun, seen through a misted 
cloud. 

He played the knife along her jaw, not cutting the skin. Then down her 
throat, over the jugular. She whimpered, shuddered and he ordered her to 
stay still. 

Down the knife came, past her Adam's apple, to the hollow of her throat 
directly below the Adam's apple. She swallowed. The Adam's apple bobbed. 

"Hold still," he hissed. 

The knife moved lower, touching her cleavage. He flattened one nipple with 
the side of the knife. The nipple sprang up as the blade moved to her other 
breast. He circled the aureole, cutting a tiny gold hair. He stopped, the 
blade poised at the aureole's edge. He decided what to do next. He cut a 
thin line from the aureole to the nipples. 

She gasped, grunted harshly. Pain flashed through her body. She didn't want 
him to cut her tip off. Her head tilted back. Her eyes were closed. The 
veins stood out on her neck and temples. Her legs tensed and her belly 
muscles flexed. The wounded nipple ring was scarlet. The nipple stood up. 
hungry for the sharp touch. Kang lightly scratched from the aureole, to the 
nipple. Reaching the stiff tip he paused. She cried out, begged him to do 
it. He hesitated, then made a surgeon's incision in the nipple. 

"Again!" Gwen bellowed, whipping her pelvis in frantic circles. It was 
almost as good as having the knife in her cunt. 

Blood spurted across those heavy, solid breasts and formed a river in her 
cleavage, and drained down to her belly, filling the navel and turning the 
thick pubic patch from a golden paleness to a muddy brownish clump that 
slickened the hair to her labia. 

Kang bent his head and tasted the salty syrup. The Chinese soldier suckled 
ravenously, to Gwen's delight. She wanted to throw her arms around him. hold 
him close, let him suck the very blood out of her burning tit. 

"Enough." It was Li. naked to the waist. His legs were sheathed in a tight, 
highly polished leather girdle. Dangling from the girdle were knives of 
various lengths and shapes, and a ten inch narrow pole with a wood hand grip 
on the end. On the other end was a half dollar sized solid piece of iron. He 
wore leather boots. also polished, and leather gloves. "Get off her, Kang." 

Kang climbed off Gwen. His face was impassive as he became again the perfect 
Chinese soldier, ready to obey any order without question, commit any act. 

When she heard Major Li's voice, Gwen's eyes opened. She didn't speak right 
away. As her eyes grew accustomed to the shadowy interior, she saw him and 
recognized the significance of the brief uniform. Her eyes widened and the 
pulse pounded in her heart, and cunt. Her skin glowed. The fire in her twat 
telegraphed to her eyes, contorting her face into an evil, passion's mask. 

He smiled and the grin was as frightening: as hers. "You are impressed with 
this." Hp gestured at the girdle and boots. 

"With you." 

"The attire doesn't excite you." 

"It does. Very much." 

"What has already happened to you doesn't bother you." 

"It satisfies me but makes me want more. Almost at the same time I come I 
have a hunger to come again, and all T need is a little . . . prodding." 

He hefted the pole. As it moved, it brushed the knives, making them touch 
with a tinkling far off temple-bell sound. "This will prod you." 

"Prod me into what, beside another orgasm?" 

"Into obeying me. doing what I want." 

"I've given in to Captain Wong, and Corporal Kang. Who else." 

"You'll see." 

"When?" 

"We shall discuss that later." 

"I want to know, Major Li. How many more poor substitutes must I spread for 
before I get the real thing . . . you." 

"You have me. Now." 

"I see you standing there, inches from me. I feel your breath. I smell your 
odor and that drives me wild. I smell what your sweat is doing to the 
leather and I can almost see your huge cock straining against your leg. I 
see, I smell. But I don't touch. When am I going to touch you?" 

"But you're tired now. . . . " 

"I'm not." 

"You're tired, and torn. You must rest, repair your injuries and when you're 
healed, I'll take you." 

"I'm healed now. If I wasn't I wouldn't be able to talk to you. I'd be too 
busy licking my wounds." 

"It didn't hurt when they were inflicted." 

"I only felt pleasure." 

Major Li nodded, apparently satisfied. That is good. Very good." 

"Good enough to untie me so I can embrace you?" 

"No, not that good. Not yet. But soon." He snapped his fingers. From an 
inside pocket of his uniform Captain Wong produced a small flask. He brought 
it to the table. Li uncapped the flask and held it to her lips. "Here. 
Drink," he coaxed. 

The aroma enticed her. She found herself suddenly very thirsty. She drained 
the flask in a half dozen deep draughts. She lay back, gasping for breath as 
the tasteless liquid spread along her veins, warming every fiber. 

"What was that?" 

"Water. With a tiny bit of Saki." He undid the thongs that held her feet. 
"You've also earned a nice long rest. In comfort." He unfastened the thongs 
by her head. 

As the last thong was undone, one hand eased her to a sitting position. Gwen 
slid off the table on her knees. He caught her before she pitched backward, 
striking the stone edge. Just like she wanted. As Major Li embraced her 
under the arms, his hands slid on her sweaty body. With surprising strength 
Gwen shoved one leg between his spread legs, locking an ankle around one of 
his legs. She lunged toward the major nearly knocking him off balance. 

Gwen wanted to knock Major Li over, to mount him before she fell asleep, for 
she was drowsy all of a sudden. But the way she was positioned was a good 
alternative. Her cunt was open, and pressed against his booted leg; her clit 
was against the boot top. He tried to disengage her but she held on with a 
drowning person's desperation. As the sweet-smelling hard leather made 
contact with her drenched vagina and stiff clitoris, the masculine roughness 
acted on her female softness. The feel and the way she was being dominated 
by the hard, intractable Li heightened her desire, if that was possible. She 
pressed against him. He first pulled back, then stopped and remained still 
as she slowly lifted and lowered her cunt on that hard leather surface. As 
she lowered herself, her plump buttocks touched the floor, cold now as the 
temperature dropped. Her ripe butt flesh made soft, slapping, kissing sounds 
as floor and buttocks collided. 

"Uh . . . uh . . . Li . . . Li . . . fuck me . . . fuck me now." 

But he remained impassive, impervious to her pleading. 

Fists lodged against his hips, he stared down at her, no expression marring 
his handsome face. His legs remained spread and his muscles were knotted. 
His thoughts were concentrated on her reaction, her behavior through this 
entire episode. He had found, and awakened the perfect subject. What had at 
first been just a toy for his bedroom, a vessel to hold his jizz was now the 
perfect instrument, and through his careful coaching she would be perfect. 
In every way. 

She was working harder and faster now, slicking his boot leather with her 
pussy juice. Her voice was high, pitched, strained. The cold leather stoked 
the fire in her sweaty cunt. She rubbed her clit on the hard edge. 

"Oh, please, my darling Li, fuck me, please, ah, ah, please, let me feel 
your cock in my cunt, let me taste your come in my mouth, feel your stiff 
prick up my ass, oh, oh, please, please 

. . . " Gwen whimpered as she rubbed her clit raw, leaving smeared tracks 
from boot top to ankle curve. Her spine ached from the cramped position, her 
loins throbbed from the exertion and her tail bone and buttocks were raw 
from the cold, jagged pieces of chipped cement. But the frustration hurt 
worse than the physical abuse. The physical strain she could stand, and 
welcomed. It was the frustration of not having him . . . of having his two 
underlings and not having him as he had promised that hurt deep. Why didn't 
he take her? What was he waiting for? If it had to do with the leather 
outfit, if somehow his passion was increased by taking her in that get-up, 
then why was he hesitating? Was it because his desire was even greater by 
making her frustrated . . . suffer? 

He wasn't able to physically hurt her, Gwen decided. She loved this whole 
beautiful approach. The only way he could inflict pain was to keep away from 
her. 

She let herself sag to the floor. On her back, one heel locked behind his 
leg, she stared up at him. Her pussy gaped open, itch from loving the 
leather of his polished boot. 

"Is that it, Li?" 

He was still looking down. "Is what it, my precious?" His eyes and face were 
without expression. 

"The reason you're not touching me. You want to make me suffer." 

"Does my absence make you suffer?" he asked in a soft, still voice. 

"You know it does." Gwen's lower lip trembled. She fought back the tears. 
One eyelid quivered. She didn't understand herself. She wanted some of him 
stabbed in her hot, sweaty body holes. 

"I'm flattered." 

"And glad?" 

"To make you suffer?" 

"Aren't you?" The tears fought hard for escape. Gwen trembled. She wanted 
him to fuck her in whatever brutal way he wanted. 

"I'm a brute. Up to a point." Major Li smiled at her. He was so cool 
compared to the sweaty hotness that engulfed Gwen. 

"Has that point been reached?" 

"Has yours?" He grinned. His teeth shone like elephant's tusks. 

"My passion is yours. I'm only as passionate as you make me, want me to be. 
So far I've been passionate because that is your wish . . . " 

"What we've done today was see what makes you passionate. Now we know. 
Tomorrow, perhaps, if you're up to it, we can all become . . . is "closer" a 
good word? Yes, closer, and I promise you then that we will be a party of 
two." 

"You promised that party for today." Gwen yawned. She felt weak, like a 
baby. "You're tired." 

"I'd like to shower you with it." 

"While you were being . . . loved, I found myself touching myself. I'm 
drained, my lovely abyss. Drained for awhile, at least." Major Li fingered 
the long pole that dangled from his belt. The iron disc was a blind eye, 
Gwen thought, an eye that sees what normal eyes can never see . . . an eye 
that sees beyond the normal dimensions of space and time . . . past the 
normal emotions of male-female love . . . to a greater dimension, a more 
powerful love. That disc was a means to a passion far greater than the 
desire she had experienced. "But. tomorrow, my sweet . . . tomorrow we will 
see about having that party. We will be fresher then and we will have the 
entire night to dream of tomorrow. Doesn't that sound more appealing?" 

"Will you . . . " Her eyes fixed on the disc, then dropped to his leg; she 
was sheepish, suddenly shy and embarrassed. For no good reason. 

"Will I . . . " He let the question trail off. "Use that pole?" 

"The one beside this lovely scimitar." 

"That's the one." 

"I might." 

"You're playing with me again," Gwen said, disgusted. 

"Do you know what this item is." 

"Will you tell me, at least." 

"I will show you." 

"Oh, when?" 

He threw his head back, and laughed. "My. how you sound like a child at her 
birthday." 

"Will you show me?" 

"I certainly will. Tomorrow. Wong." A finger-snap brought the Captain, and 
Corporal. 

"Help her on with her clothes. Then, after you've bathed her and tucked her 
in, report to my office." 

FOUR 

Both men were attentive. They helped her undress and then drew a bath in the 
bathroom that adjoined Li's shower room. Bath salts were added to the 
steaming water and she was lowered into the soothing depths. 

"Scrub my back?" Gwen laughed softly, so relaxed that she felt like a girl 
again . . . a teenage girl in love for the first time. She couldn't shake 
the feeling that she was losing contact with reality. There were those 
flashes of memory that came too-of the other nurses. But they seemed so 
distant. 

How could something so overwhelming have gone undiscovered for so long? All 
those boys, all those men. They had made her come and yet. even though she 
had achieved orgasm, Gwen still left those couplings unsatisfied. And she 
had never even suspected what it was that was missing. 

It took a terrible war on a cold, cheerless continent half a world away from 
the secure, warm world of the Midwest, to show her what she had to know to 
complete that one area of her psyche that had been so incomplete . . . so 
inadequate. Now that she knew this about herself her life would be fuller, 
richer. With Major Li. 

Just thinking about him tightened Gwen's clitoris, made her inner muscles 
throb pleasurably. After all she'd been through she could still think about 
him and become excited. Christ, he was right: she was an abyss, a snug, 
bottomless pit that needed him to fill her up, satisfy her. Until next time. 
And all the time was the next time. She never got enough of Major Li's 
fucking, his hot cock driving up her hole while he did other things to her. 
And Gwen didn't know why. She didn't question that, nor the fact that her 
passion for Major Li went beyond normal bounds. 

She didn't consider what she had become . . . a traitor to her country and, 
in the eyes of her straight-laced family and friends, someone less than 
human. She didn't consider what life would be like for her next year, ten 
years from now. She didn't dwell on the fact that the allies might win the 
Korean war . . . a conflict that had been triggered by the male ego, the 
rapacious beast that was as much a part of the male politico, the big shot 
Washington wheeler-dealer as her own driven hungers were a part of her. For 
Gwen there was but one world, this small village, people by Li and, to a 
lesser degree, Wong and Kang. 

Wong she understood. He liked to give pain as much as Gwen liked to take it. 
Corporal Kang was different, though. She couldn't figure him out. On the 
road he took her as masterfully as Wong, and Li, of course. Then, for an 
unexplained reason, he turned . . . what was the word . . . Understanding? 
No, if he understood her he would've jumped her, Wong fashion. If he had any 
style he might've even given her some of the cunt-shaking kicks that Li 
provided. 

But he was sympathetic in a straight kind of way. It was touching, in a way. 
And the way he looked and behaved, so little kid-ish, was touching, too. 

If she ever got him alone, Gwen would have to ask. But, for now, all she 
wanted to do was take a bath. And, maybe if she was lucky, Major Li would 
have a change of mind and crawl in beside her. That would be a fitting 
conclusion to an unusual, deeply satisfying day, Gwen thought. 

She stretched out, knees pointed toward the ceiling and opened up, letting 
the warm, perfumed water flow into her softly pulsating cunt. 

It felt nice . . . the hot water lapping at her puckered labia, relaxing the 
strained clitoris. She used the flat of her hand to splash water into her 
vagina. As the warmth washed through her sex zone, she thought of Major Li. 
The image of him, sleek, sweating and muscular, got her pussy juices 
flowing. As the love-sweat gushed, Gwen's clit swelled and her thighs 
tightened. Instinctively her legs spread wider and she used the 
coarse-fibered washrag on her outer lips. The rougliness felt nice, like 
muted needles stroking, stroking. She worked the rough rag higher, avoiding 
her bloated clitoris. If she was going to masturbate herself she wanted the 
prelims to last. No sense pulling the plug right away. 

She circled her muscles and as she did she felt blood surging through her 
breasts and her nipples thickening. Her tits were passion-heavy, aching for 
a soft mouth . . . sharp teeth . . . rough hands . . . spikes. Yes, spikes . 
. . to rend her tits, scar her belly, tear at her cunt. 

"Ooooooooohhhhh." 

The sound was alien, a banshee's distant wail on a terror-ridden night. 

What put that idea there? Gwen wondered briefly. But, as her clitoris 
tingled all thoughts were submerged, drowned by the torrent of lust that 
surged through her belly, and along her nerves, making her body alive, hot. 

Gwen dragged the rag over her clitoris, bearing down as she rubbed harder 
and faster. The rag was too soft to give her the kind of sensations she 
needed. The rag made a plopping sound as it fell from her hand and floated 
blissfully away from her trembling legs. She needed something rough and hard 
jamming up her holes until she was aching with it. 

Her index finger and thumb seized her clitoris. Pinching and jerking it, 
Gwen assaulted her throbbing sex organ over and over. Her fuck flesh was too 
slippery now to hold onto. Yet the agony of desire continued to rage. Gwen 
dragged herself out of the tub, sending waves across the rim. Maintaining 
her balance on the slippery floor she glanced around, searching for 
something to torment her cunt, to satisfy her need. 

The medicine chest was on her left. She flung the accordion-styled bamboo 
doors wide; the leaves rattled against the wall. 

Not much of anything there. But a razor. A turn of the century straight edge 
with a long narrow blade and light weight cocoa-colored bamboo handle. 

My Christ, what I couldn't do with that. 

Gwen's first impulse was to shave her flesh, tearing at the itch that 
consumed every nerve ending. But that wasn't an idea worth thinking twice 
about. If she mutilated herself, Major Li wouldn't want her. She'd seen too 
many cases where husbands had deserted their wives after hysterectomies. 

What could she do with that silvery thing? 

She had to do something before the pain in her cunt made her pass out. Her 
whole body was one burning ache of desire for rough sex. 

She hefted the razor, snapped the blade open and watched the polished silver 
reflect the light from above, across the mirror. A long column of white came 
back at her from the mirror and dappled her slightly protruding belly. 

As she moved her arm, the column moved lower, across her thick pubis. The 
light seemed to be lost finally in all that golden-brown hair of her pussy. 
Too much golden-brown hair, she thought. 

Spreading her thighs wide, Gwen opened her pussy lips and brought the razor 
down. It tickled at first. As she bore down the tickle became a tugging kind 
of sweet agony. She worked the sharp-edged steel across her outer labia, 
concentrating on stripping the hair nearest her clitoris. 

She was doing fine. Just enough pressure from her suddenly weary hand to 
slit the hairs at their base without doing much damage to her pussy lips. 
She'd have her thrill without marring the beauty of her lush, dewy depths. 

Gwen's breath was coming faster now. She felt an outcry, building. Her 
titties swung as she stooped over, to better see what she was doing. Her 
pony tail had come loose and the hairs lay over her shoulders and spilled 
across her forehead. She had trouble seeing. She parted the hair and that 
helped. Her hand remained steady. A pyramid of darkish gold shavings 
gathered between her legs. As the tub water sloshed on the tile some of the 
hair separated and drifted toward the door. Along with the hair, threads of 
coppery-scarlet blood mingled with the soap bath water on its journey. Most 
of the blood and hair and water was diverted to the spaces between the tiled 
squares. But some of the mixture reached the door, and seeped beneath the 
door. As she feverishly masturbated her clitoris, she sliced at her cunt 
hair with the razor. She had a strange feeling that she was being watched. 
Then a sound, like a doorknob turning, cut through her lust fever. 

Nothing was going to distract Gwen. If she had an audience, so what the 
hell? Let him, or them, come on in and join the party. Sex was never meant 
to be an isolated experience. 

She dropped the razor. Time to take it with both hands. 

Plucking her clitoris, she bent over. Her hair flew across her forehead. Her 
tits dangled and slapped together. Reaching between her legs, around her 
pistoning hand on her vagina, she shoved her index finger into her anus. She 
tried to ride the finger, without much luck. 

Still stroking her cunt, Gwen reached into the medicine chest. The 
toothbrush end fitted nicely into her curled ass hole. She stroked, back and 
front. As she began to blow off she jerked the toothbrush handle out of her 
ass, giving herself the same anal kick that the hot washrag had given Major 
Li. 

Her come literally flowed down her trembling, golden leg, splashing onto the 
drenched tiles, forming pods of jelly, riding the moving water currents to 
the door. 

She tightened her legs, twisting first one way then the other. The orgasms 
followed with staccato rapidity. One last kick, she decided. She reversed 
the toothbrush, forcing the bristled end into her ass. As she rammed the 
makeshift dildo back and forth she trembled from the constant burst of 
perverse thrills that shot through her ass and cunt and body. 

Whipping the brush out of her soft bowels, Gwen brushed the hot, muddy 
bristles over her clitoris. It ached so . . . felt so good. Each time, each 
different way was utter ecstasy. She couldn't believe a small town, Midwest 
dunce could find so many different and wonderful ways to get such wonderful 
thrills lancing through her quivering body. 

Hell, no. It was a career. A career inspired by that sweet Major Li. 

She kept brushing her twat, delighting in the stiff scratch of bristles 
against her itch cunt. How many minutes passed she didn't know. Eventually 
she was aware of a cool breeze from somewhere, raising goose flesh, making 
her shiver. The bristles felt now, too soft to do much good. 

She threw the brush in the toilet and flushed it down. Squatting over the 
seat she douched with soapy fingers, rinsed and dried. 

The bedroom was warm and there was a soft comforting cozy light burning on 
the nightstand. Also on hand was the decanter of brandy and a single glass. 
That meant, of course, that the major wouldn't be coming to bed; he'd be 
doing his imbibing at his desk. It never occurred to Gwen that he might have 
another woman stashed somewhere. 

So, anyway, if she drank enough, she'd be able to sleep. If she didn't drink 
she'd never sleep; his face and body would keep her awake, keep her greedy 
hands on her Major Li-starved hot box. If she didn't sleep it would show 
tomorrow. And she wanted to look good for him. 

She slipped into a filmy, pale pink negligee and once under the covers she 
filled the glass. The first couple of sips went down easy. The too-sweet 
taste didn't bother her. Gwen was acquiring a taste for the brandy, like she 
was acquiring a taste for the more original, painful ways of making love. 
She was becoming a very cultured lady. 

She entertained a fantasy of her and Major Li, returning to her tiny 
Nebraska town, and her family welcoming them, being veddy veddy impressed 
with Major Li. All her old friends would be there, being veddy veddy 
impressed. And envious of her catch. And after thoroughly impressing the 
town she would bring him to Omaha where she'd gone to school and worked 
before joining up. And she and Major Li would capture that oversized cow 
town, too. 

Wouldn't those hotshot medicos be overwhelmed by Li? And the nurses, the 
horse-faced biddies she'd worked under, the teeny-bopper know it alls just 
out of nursing school. 

They'd all be suitably impressed and show her the respect that they'd been 
too tired, too self impressed, too jaded to show her when they all worked 
together. A real hassle. 

That was one of the reasons she'd joined up . . . to get away from the 
hospital rat race and get herself a large slice of authority. 

And what did she have now? 

She was still being dominated, manipulated. And she was loving every 
wonderful second of it. 

Gwen dewelled on the fantasy, slowly sipping the brandy. As sweet numbness 
took over, the fantasy faded. That's all it was, she knew. A simple fantasy, 
a childish "I'll show you" kind of pipe dream. 

She'd never go back. She couldn't now, not after abandoning her co-workers 
and her country. Not that she had to worry about being denounced. Even if 
the allies poured into Ham-hung right now they'd be hard put to prove 
complicity. Suspect, maybe. Prove, no. 

No the proof was in her head. She realized that she would do anything Major 
Li asked of her. She had already. Fortunately she was responding to these 
kinky kinds of loving. Even if she didn't dig it, she would still submit. 
For him. Because he liked it, wanted her to. 

"Oh, Li . . . Li . . . Li . . . " she sighed, yawned, and belched brandy. 

Enough of that for tonight. Any more and she'd wake up stoned, or at the 
very least, red-eyed and hung over. 

She put the bottle back on the nightstand and turned off the light. She fell 
right to sleep. 

FIVE 

There was a sound in the darkness near the bed. Not naked feet. More like 
slippers hissing stealthily on the thick carpet. 

The smell was familiar to Gwen. The husky, pungent odor of a sweating man. 
She stared at the shadows in the room. "Li?" She whispered, then a hand 
dropped over her mouth and nose. The hand was firm, calloused. She choked 
against the palm. The fingers released her nose. 

"No sound, no yelling." The voice was familiar. "Do not yell." The tone 
warned Gwen that if she cried out she would be hurt. She wasn't too tired to 
respond to the promise of more ecstasy. 

"I . . . want . . . it . . . you," she mumbled through brandy-numbed lips. 

"Yes, I'll take you. Then we will talk." 

Naked warmth pressed against her back. Skilled hands lifted her nightie: the 
filmy material tickled her shoulders. Gwen wanted to giggle though she was 
too tired to bother. All she wanted was a quickie, then back to sleep. Maybe 
she was still asleep and this was some kind of dream. 

That hard, hot cock parting her buttocks was real . . . real hard . . . real 
skilled as it slid up her shit-chute, touching, lodging in the hole. There, 
it stopped, as though its owner had heard something. Gwen listened, heard 
nothing, enjoying his cock spreading her asshole open with painful warmth 
that flowed into her pussy. 

"Get the hell in gear, man," she husked, her throat sleep-clogged and sore 
from too much brandy. 

"I don't want to hurt." 

"Hurt? Oh, shit." 

She knew her caller now. Mister no-hurt. Kang. The man who somehow had lost 
his grunt-glands since that snowy day on the road. He must be interested, 
though. He was certainly hard enough. And, moving slowly, was awakening her 
cunt without disturbing her bowels. She would hate to shit all over him, and 
all over the bed. Li wouldn't be too impressed with her if she did that. 
He'd probably accuse her of turning senile on him. 

One thing about Corporal Kang, he had guts coming into Major Li's bedroom, 
violating the sanctity of his bed, violating the body of his mistress. 
Surely there must be other women, safer women. 

He had his chance earlier, with Major Li's approval. Gwen wondered dreamily 
about him. She was so tired. She knew she wasn't thinking clearly. 

Little boy lost was probably bashful, not able to perform before an 
audience. He still wanted his share and decided to take it while the master 
was off somewhere running things. That explanation satisfied Gwen. She 
wanted to satisfy herself. 

Little boy was no little boy in the cock and technique department. He felt 
like an iron block in her ass. She felt the sting and reverberations clear 
up to her throat. His movements were slowly rhythmic, steady. He was 
exciting her without tearing her up, spoiling her, tiring her. She'd get her 
jollies tonight and be fresh tomorrow. And there wouldn't be any welts or 
diddle-tracks back there for Major Li to find. 

He was playing his cock in Gwen's ass like an angler with a trout. Or a 
sportsman with a barracuda. 

Spasms rippled down her spine, shaking her buttocks. Corporal Kang was 
wheezing, squeezing her shoulders, working those calloused hands down her 
back, to her rump. He pinched and patted, alternating the hand-loving as he 
stepped up the pistoning in and out of her rear. 

He was reaming her good and Gwen was responding. The excitement of this 
illicit tryst, the intrusion of her sleep, the man's swift stroking sent her 
pelvis jerking, her breath burning and heaving in great gasps, her titties 
slapping together, her belly undulating, her cunt wet and the clitoris 
pulsing. 

She reached down, to finger her swampy cunt, and found Kang's hand at the 
hairy mound, about to enter. He knocked her hand aside and, without missing 
a stroke entered her gash, fingering her clitoris in rhythm with this lovely 
rear assault. 

He was moving faster, steadily stepping up the pace. He was there, blowing 
his rocks in her asshole and setting off a barrage, an incendiary assault 
that scalded her insides. 

"Ah," he breathed as Gwen's cum inundated his hand. 

Corporal Kang withdrew, his cockhead slapping her butt crease . . . a final 
farewell as it softened. "May we talk?" 

"If that's all I can get out of you, sure. But you can expect a rape if that 
cock of yours shows some life." Then Gwen did something she couldn't believe 
of herself. She fluttered her eyelashes coyly at Corporal Kang. 

"We have time to talk. Major Li is in conference and will be the rest of the 
night." 

"What's to talk about." 

"You." 

"We already covered that subject. Pretty damn well, so far, anyway." 

"Please. Let me finish." 

"Stay close like you are. And talk all you want." 

"What I have to say will be brief." 

Gwen elbowed his cock. It felt like jelly. After the bullshit, she'd make it 
hard and useful again. And then she wondered what she was thinking about. 
Confusion filled her. 

"If you'd stop trying to make me hard you'd be able to better understand 
what I'm going to tell you." 

"Mind reader." 

"Elbow-feeler, not mind reader." Corporal Kang laughed dryly, his voice like 
the rustle of dry leaves in the forest. 

"Okay, stud-mouse, say it." Gwen stayed close, her hand absentmindedly 
tracing the "O" of his flat nipple. 

Kang impatiently moved her hand away. "You're a nurse. You know about drugs. 
You don't have to answer. I know all about you. I know you are an Army 
nurse. From the way you behaved on the road I knew that you were that 
special type that Major Li was looking for." 

"What type? And how did you know I was the right one?" 

"Major Li loves big blondes. The bigger their bones, the better he likes 
them." 

"Oh?" 

"That is, he likes tough looking women. Big boned women with broad features 
and husky, healthy bodies. Next to those short, slim girls you stood out 
like . . . like . . . " 

"A hard on at a Eunuchs' convention." 

"Yes, that's lie perfect comparison. Thank you." 

"You're welcome." 

"You fit the primary qualifications. You were big, busty, with nice round 
hips and a plump cunt. To see if you had the essential qualities, Captain 
Wong and I tested you with that black girl. We butchered her to see if it 
would excite you." 

"I've never been excited by that sort of thing. Never!" Gwen exclaimed 
convincing herself as she remembered what they had done to that lovely black 
girl. 

"I'm no doctor, but we were taught that some women have this passion and it 
remains dormant until the conditions of their lives are exactly right. For 
you it was the war, the horror of it, the cold and privation and the 
slaughter of your comrades. Had you remained at home, safe, with family and 
friends, you might have never known about yourself. And, of course, the 
drugs that you were fed helped heighten the excitement." 

"Drugs?" 

"From that first sip of brandy in Captain Wong's tent, you have been 
drugged. It's so new it only has a laboratory code, not even a name as yet." 

"What's the drug supposed to do?" 

"You might call it Spanish Fly for the kinky personality." Corporal Kang 
stopped speaking. He waited for a reaction. 

"It's hard to believe that a drug is What's got me going," Gwen said at 
last. For a terrible, cold moment, though, she knew it was true. 

"What exactly have you felt." 

"Well . . . " 

"No. I will tell you. You have an almost pathological attachment for Major 
Li. Yes, he is handsome. But he is also a beast. He forces women to submit 
to the most heinous of things. Men as well as women are his slaves after 
taking some of this drug. Without this drug our Major Li would be the 
loneliest man in the world." 

"I still say there would be some side effect . . . " 

"There never has been one and this drug has been tested a dozen times so 
far. With varying effects. The only side effect has been death, or insanity. 
Never what you call a simple side effect, like dizziness, or nausea, or 
fainting. Either the subject is enslaved by Li, or the subject becomes 
unconscious and then dies." 

"So a chemical has chained me to Major Li, made me do everything he insists 
of me, and I do all this without question?" Gwen let her incredulousness 
creep into her voice. 

"Haven't you?" Corporal Kang's voice was amused. 

"Haven't I, what?" Gwen snapped her question back. What the Chinese soldier 
suggested was impossible. It was a trap of some sort. 

"Haven't you done all these things without question? Haven't you turned your 
back on your country, your nurse friends, without so much as a tear? All 
this for a man you hardly know. You acknowledge all this, and still say 
you're not under the influence of something more potent than Major Li's 
charm?" 

"I still must be under the influence, as you say, because I'm still devoted, 
attentive and about to call Major Li and have you trussed up in that stone 
room, and have your balls burned off." Gwen was cold inside. She felt 
compelled to answer as she had. 

"I could exert a quick thumb pressure right here, and you'd never say 
another word, let alone cry out." Corporal Kang held Gwen by the throat. The 
persistent pressure, was choking her. 

"Okay." she whispered hoarsely. The turmoil increased in her breast. Her 
tits were throbbing with need. 

He let go. She coughed, reached for the brandy. He held her arm. 

"No. Lay off this stuff for a day. In twenty-four hours the drug will have 
passed through your system. Then you'll see I was right." 

"Even if I am drugged," Gwen said, "It's still better than it's ever been 
for me." 

Corporal Kang stared, wide-eyed, not believing. "You mean all this has been 
that wonderful? You'd risk crippling yourself just to be with him?" 

Gwen shrugged. She couldn't explain to Corporal Kang what it meant to feel 
her clit stiffen, dreading the possibility that it would be mauled by 
pliers-or worse. 

He shook his head. "I can't believe this is the best it has ever been for 
you." 

Gwen shivered. "It has." The thought of pain and torture was making her 
pussy leak with desire. 

"I'm sorry." 

"So am I. Sorry for being too big, too clumsy to get the boys when I was 
younger. The only way I got any attention in high school was to suck off the 
football team. I nearly had to do the same thing to the girls' volleyball 
squad. But the boys needed me more; all those dykes were sucking each other 
off and were very stand-offish. You know. The team that blows together, 
grows together. Something like that. So I became the school mouth, used by 
every old boy that wanted his pants spit-washed. That was the first time my 
body was used. Then I learned to use the boys. That's when I was taking 
nurse's training. I'd slimmed down a little, learned how to dress and 
behave. And I had some of the frat rats interested. Even had a couple of 'em 
blowing me. The point is, Kang. I've been used all my life so this deal with 
Major Li isn't anything new. And," she lowered her voice, "I learned a long 
time ago that the important thing was to survive. If I ever leave here, then 
I'll worry about making peace with my government. Till I do leave, Major Li 
is my government." 

"I can understand surviving." Corporal Kang nodded. "Sometimes we must make 
a choice, and that choice involves surviving and still fighting for a just 
cause. We can do both. Fight for justice while we survive. It is not so 
improbable a marriage." 

"Is that what you're doing?" 

"I'm surviving, yes." 

"And who are you fighting for?" 

Kang smiled. "For what is right. That's all you need know." 

"I was just wondering." Gwen's thoughts were already beginning to wander to 
between her legs. She needed something jabbing her there. 

"Something to occupy your thoughts? Or were you really interested in a 
choice. Between Major Li and . . . " 

"I was only curious as to why I let you stay," Gwen said abruptly, suddenly 
nervous. 

"You're sweating, trembling and feel like you have ants crawling at the back 
of your throat and behind your eyes. Yes?" 

"Yes. How did . . . " 

"The effects of withdrawal." 

"Listen, skinny stick . . . " Gwen's voice trembled. 

He covered her mouth. "No. Do not shout. Just listen." Corporal Kang put a 
knee in the middle of Gwen's belly, pinning her to the mattress. "Now is the 
time to come with me. Let the drug wear off and then you'll see." 

See what? That she was going insane? That's how Gwen felt. Her passion was 
born in some kind of kinky heaven. What she was feeling sprang from the 
bowels of hell. Everything Corporal Kang told her came back in a slow 
flashback. Gwen examined what he had said, turning over each thought and 
squinting at it through the microscope of her mind. She was like a junkie 
who knew he was killing himself but was still helpless to kick it off. In 
her case, Gwen wasn't killing herself. What she was doing was enjoying this 
newfound way of living. This lifestyle was tougher than that complacent, 
anemic, shelter she'd lived under back home. Tougher and, therefore, more 
taxing. She had a hundred welts, a thousand bruises to show. Also, a million 
orgasms . . . each one more intense, more satisfying than the last. 

What was it that Chinese philosopher had said? Better to live one day of 
pleasure than a thousand days of pain. 

Not that her past life had been anything more than just ho-hum dreary. But 
dreary was the same as living death. Major Li had awakened her, forced her 
to live. And now this Kang was trying to dissuade her, convince her that 
Major Li was wrong. Sure, this way was fast to the grave. But it was better 
fast and fun than slow and dreary. And she did love Major Li, her traveling 
companion. 

"Well," he said. "Will you go with me?" He relaxed his hand so she could 
reply. 

She swallowed, moistened her throat with saliva. "I need . . . " 

"Time?" 

"Isn't that a commodity that you Chinese have a lot of?" 

"True, we've lived, passively accepted the countless warlords that have 
marched across our land, shackled our people. But you are not of our blood. 
Your time is not that long." Corporal Kang sighed. 

"Meaning?" 

"Death is the ultimate orgasm, for you. But for Major Li the ultimate orgasm 
is to make a robot out of you." 

"I'm already crazy. According to you, my mind is rotting with his hot pants 
sauce." 

Through the dimly lighted space that separated them she discerned his 
concern. 

"Right now your mind is still your own. Or it will be once you've withdrawn 
from the effects of the drug. But he will pump you with increased doses that 
will destroy your mind. He will control you, mind and soul." 

"What happens to the body?" 

"You still don't believe, do you?" 

"I love Li. I felt sorry for you. That old curse, the maternal one that 
makes us all good mothers, or at least good enough to stand those terrible, 
little tit-suckers . . . that feeling women have, I also have. Maybe you 
like white pussy. Maybe that's what all this is all about." She glared at 
him. "Is that it? Are you trying to get me in trouble with Major Li so I'll 
come to you when he kicks me out?" Gwen felt heat in her pussy, goose bumps 
on her tits. If it was so, how would Major Li punish her. She trembled with 
ecstatic desire. 

"Could be you have a tape recorder under the bed, recording our lovemaking 
sounds, to play back for Li. To enrage him and dump me?" 

"And get my legs chopped?" Corporal Kang chuckled. "You hear how illogical 
that sounds? He was watching" you in the bathroom. Did you know that?" 

"So what?" 

"He saw you ruin his toothbrush in your asshole. He really enjoyed that 
little variation." 

"Is this supposed to make me angry?" 

Corporal Kang shrugged helplessly. "I waited until he had his laugh. When he 
left with Captain Wong, I tried to get in the bathroom, to warn you about 
this next stepped-up phase of Li's brainwashing program. I tried to get in 
but the door was locked." 

"So you got in through the bedroom door." She nudged him. "This is a lot 
more fun than keyhole peeping." 

"Yes," the Chinese Corporal murmured, mirthlessly, ignoring the light tone. 
He was staring at the dark corners of the room, staring and thinking. Gwen 
lay on her side facing him, trying to figure out why she let him in. why she 
allowed him to remain. She was lonely, she decided, and he was a man, taking 
Li's half of the bed. That was the only reason. Now that she realized this 
she found herself becoming sleepy. Her cunny was warmed and she was yawning. 
Time to sweep him out with yesterday. 

"Better go, chum," she said after a prolonged yawn went ignored. 

"Before I go, let me ask you this." 

"Make it short. Like this." She hefted his soft yellow cock with her thumb. 

"Will you take a short walk with me? I want to show you something." 

Corporal Kang swung off the bed, reached his pile of clothes on the floor by 
the bed. He flicked the lid off a flask and handed the flask to her. "One 
swallow will calm the agony. And this is rice wine. Drink." 

He held it to her lips. She believed what he had said. The wine after a few 
scary moments, worked. She lay back, relaxed, her heart fluttering. 

He was persistent. She was wide awake now and still a bit frightened. 

"That last seizure scared the bile into my sinus cavity. I can't sleep, 
anyway." She tossed her nightgown on the wrinkled sheet, the part that bore 
the heat and impression of her body, and their juice tracks. "But one thing 
right up front, Kang: I'm not making this a forced march, or a long night. 
Show me what you want me to see and then take off out of my life. Before 
king stud finds out and chops us both out of his life." 

SIX 

The air was cool and humid. The chill increased as the wind rose. The sound 
was like the dead come back, searching for the grave. The wind cut between 
the corners of the square, making the fountain splash. 

She shivered and moved closer to Kang. "Somehow this setting doesn't look as 
loving," she said, remembering how it looked earlier that day. 

"Li had this place built especially for his ultimate creation, which turned 
out to be you." 

They stopped at the square's edge, facing the squat stone building, thirty 
yards away. 

"What are we waiting for?" She linked his arm. 

"I want to see if Li is still busy. Wait here." 

Kang was gone before she replied. Gwen was alone with the wind for company. 
This wasn't a good idea, after all. Too cold and she was more tired than she 
had thought. She hugged herself and wished for the warm embrace of Li, or at 
the very least, Corporal Kang. Hell, the way she felt, the embrace of the 
warm sheets would be enough. Gwen was satiated. Not really empty. Just too 
worn down to do much of anything. Worn down, slightly nervous and having 
second thoughts about this whole business. She didn't question Li; she 
couldn't. 

Then what was it that gnawed at her? 

What Kang had said about Li being busy tonight, that's what disturbed her. 
Plain, old-fashioned jealousy. The thought of him using her in that stone 
room and then going out with some other slut infuriated Gwen, and hurt, too. 
She hoped Li was in that place with some other broad. She'd sure as hell 
tear that slut's eyes out, and then claw hell out of his balls. And then she 
would forgive him, lick his wounds. 

She was drooling. From the mouth. And the cunt. 

Where was that slant-eye, Kang? 

She saw him, sprinting toward her, motioning her to follow him. She started 
toward him, meeting him midway in the square by the fountain. The splashing 
of the water counter-pointed his rasping breath. 

"He is there. With some interesting companions, doing interesting things." 
He led her by the arm. "There is place where we can watch without being 
caught." 

"What are they doing?" The jealousy and a queer kind of excitement mingled 
in Gwen's body. 

"Making what Li calls love." 

"What I've been enjoying? That kind of love?" 

"More so." The Chinese Corporal guided her through the shadows to the rear 
of the building. There was a ten foot space behind the building, and a 
thirty foot high brick wall which separated the stone building from the rest 
of the world. "Here," He stopped. "But be quiet." 

Quiet was what Li's slut would be after she got through with the bitch. But 
Gwen said, sweetly: "I'll behave." 

Kang glanced at her, trying to read the motive behind the promise. But he 
couldn't in the dim light. 

Squatting, the Corporal eased out an eight inch wedge of cement, part of a 
cement block. He motioned for her to join him. She folded her skirt under 
her butt and sat. 

Through the slot in the wall, she saw Li and Wong were naked, save for broad 
leather belts that were no more than six inches high, from seam to seam. 
Heavy tarnished metal buckles held the belts to their muscular waists. 
Dangling from the belts were leather pouches which supported their genitals. 
Their skins were oiled. Gwen couldn't see the flesh but she smelled a 
bitter, musky aroma. Each man held a cat-o-nine tails, a dozen long wormlike 
strands knotted at the base, and tied together with leather strips. On the 
ends of the strands were tiny knots, like the knotted tip of the whip that 
had kissed Gwen's flesh. But, tonight, Gwen's replacement was a short, slim 
Asian girl with silky black hair that dropped to her buttocks. Her arms were 
suspended over her head, wrists securely fastened to an overhead chain. 

The girl's back was toward Gwen. Both men cupped the girl's small firm 
buttocks, kneading, stroking, patting and then pinching her supple cheeks. 
She whimpered with fright when they pinched her. But when she was patted and 
stroked she sighed with delight. 

Li, holding the girl's ass, turned her toward the place where Gwen hid. The 
girl's knees drew up and she turned. The chains creaked. She grunted and 
threw her head back, not looking at the Major. Her hair whispered as the 
ebony strands rustled along her shoulders and back. The arm muscles 
glistened and flexed. As she moved, the muscles in her stomach tightened. 
Her breasts, small as baseballs and tiny nippled, lifted, strained. The 
muscles in her face quivered. Muscle spasms went through her shoulders, 
through her tits, belly and along her thighs. Her lower belly was covered 
with a thick jet black pelt. 

Li twisted one crimson nipple. The girl grunted, the sound moved Gwen's eyes 
from the pubic pelt to the girl's face. Objectively she noted the thin lips, 
high cheekbones and slanted eyes that were glazed and expressionless. An 
attractive but ordinary face; the face and body of a girl not more than 
nineteen, younger perhaps. 

Li squatted, kissing her foot, stroking the arch. A vacant smile passed 
rapidly over the girl's face. Li caressed her calf as he tasted the big toe. 
The girl inhaled and exhaled rapidly. Her knees drew closer to her slim 
body. She clenched her thighs, rapidly flexing and relaxing. While Li kissed 
her feet, Captain Wong seized her hair. Wong's hand dropped to her left tit. 
He pressed his thumb into the nipple. The girl whined and whipped her pelvis 
up and down. The motion was automatic, like a fist opening and unclosing, 
spasmodically, in dream. 

Captain Wong nibbled at her cheek, chin and, shoulders. The squat Chinese 
officer cupped a buttock in his yellow hand to steady the girl-child. She 
lifted her chin, tilting her head away from Wong. He kissed her smooth 
throat. Gwen glimpsed her tightly clenched eyelids, the quivering cheek, the 
lips drawn back, exposing her rigidly set jaw, spittle trickling from the 
corners of her mouth down her jaws to her chin. 

Sweat gathered on the Korean girl's flesh. Pearls of sweat gathered around 
her tiny pouch of a belly and seeped from her tightly curled belly button. 
The smell was bittersweet, the aroma of orgasm. 

Wong and Li were trembling and the girl, eyes still closed, sensed their 
excitement. A smile of contentment crossed that child's mouth . . . a child 
being tucked in at night by a loving parent, Gwen thought. The image passed 
fast as her loins filled and spasms racked her thighs. The ground was cold 
under her butt. Gwen's flesh was heating rapidly, cutting through the damp 
chill. Her thighs were suddenly very wet and the night air turned the tender 
muscles into goose-pimpled columns. The oriental girl was crying, her lips 
parted, her head corkscrewing back and forth. Gwen feverishly parted her own 
slick thighs and, balancing on the balls of both feet, began to caress her 
own fat pudenda. 

Wong was laving the girl's breasts, first one, then the other, in quick 
succession. As he kissed one he pinched the other. Major Li was mouthing the 
girl's gaping snatch. He spread her open, clutching her buttocks in his 
cruel hands. His neck muscles knotted as he tongue-kissed the thick-haired 
pudenda. 

Gwen's anger slammed into her throat, making her choke. The bastard was 
sucking the child victim off, kissing and chewing her clit. Major Li never 
gave her that kind of treatment, showed her that much affection. And that 
skinny slant-eyed slut was so dazed and dazzled she was numb. She didn't 
show much more reaction than a brief smile and a toss of that pretty hair. 
Now if Li was kissing Gwen she'd show a lot more emotion. For damn sure. 
She'd be twisting, turning, bucking her big hips, slamming her buttocks up 
and down, making her big boobs dance and leap. She'd let Major Li know how 
much she loved his tongue in her hole, how she needed his teeth on her 
throbbing clit, how she wanted to feel her blood flow around her own 
non-stop orgasm. 

She heard a whimper. For a moment, Gwen couldn't recognize it. Then, as Li 
and Wong stopped, listened, she realized that she was making the sound. She 
bit her lip, glancing sheepishly afraid at the Chinese beside her. Corporal 
Kang was having troubles of his own. His pecker was hard. It jutted out like 
a fallen tree. He massaged the front of his pants. 

Lover's cramps, Gwen thought, reaching for him. 

Before Kang could protest, she had his pants unzipped and his cock out. 
Still watching Major Li enjoying the banquet of young girl's pussy, Gwen 
pistoned Kang's shaft. Kang was bracing his palms against the damp stone 
blocks to keep from falling forward. Gwen followed the technique that 
Captain Wong was using on the girl's tits-as Wong suckled, she gently 
pumped. When Wong bore down, sinking his teeth into the girl's breast, Gwen 
squeezed the shaft, and dragged a thumbnail across the spongy tip. 

Corporal Kang bit his lip, shutting off a shout that burned and ached in his 
throat. 

Li was still sucking the girl's worn and bleeding hot box. The girl must've 
had a dozen orgasms, at least. Her knees kept jerking, legs tightening up. 
She was wailing, her voice skittering up an octave, then dropping into a 
guttural animal cry of lust. 

The bitch. And that bastard. I hope he gets a dose in the month and has to 
have his tongue cut out. I hope she gets pried open like an orange. 

Gwen couldn't look any more. She was too outraged, too horny. Kang was 
blowing his rocks into her hand. The hot white stuff boiled over her index 
finger, gathered in the hollow between the thumb and forefinger. Gwen had 
already climaxed a couple of times although she couldn't remember when it 
had happened. All she had for proof was a palmful of come. But more remained 
in her cunt, like a traffic jam during the rush hour. Her body was plugged 
and ached so. Ached for Major Li. And there he was, not more than twenty 
feet away, primed to go. She couldn't see his cock but his back was a mass 
of knots. He was tense, ready all right. He was ready but not rushing. No, 
the bastard was priming the girl bitch, working her into a frenzy, the kind 
of condition that he hadn't even tried to excite in Gwen. Comparing the 
length of the foreplay going on in the blockhouse and the amount of effort 
he'd taken with Gwen, her share of the lovemaking was closer to a rape. That 
sonofabitch. Here he had a gorgeous big titted blonde to fuck and he opted 
for a skinny pale green-skinned punk kid . . . her skin, in the diffused 
light, looked the color of anemic pea soup. 

While she fumed, Gwen gripped Kang's cock. Finally, as he went soft and her 
fingers pinched, he pried loose from her grip. 

"Buddah!" he snarled under his breath, "you damn near tore it off." 

His breath was heavy with a cool vegetable smell. 

"I'm a tough broad. Isn't that way you're trying to get me angry at Li?" 

Gwen's words might have attracted the attention of Major Li and Captain Wong 
if the girl hadn't been howling so loud. 

They let go of her. She turned like meat on a freezer rack, slowly, back and 
forth, cutting a long jagged shadow on the stone as she circled in an arc. 
Li was holding his genitals. He let his cock dangle free and lift. Stepping 
back to give Captain Wong plenty of room, Li slowly pumped his shaft. 

Wong had the cat-o-nine-tails. His round, sweaty moon face fairly glowed. 
The girl's eyes came open. Fear burned in them. But then that silly child's 
smile of contentment appeared. Wong turned his back on his superior, 
tightening the belt. It cinched his waist, accentuating the swell of his 
buttocks. He braced himself, swinging the whip. Major Li kept pumping his 
cock-harder and fasteras Wong swung the lash over his head and brought it 
down hard. The cat-o-nine-tails raked the girl's back, reversing the left to 
right arc. She yelped, like a dog caught in a trap. Jagged thin welts 
appeared. Trickles of blood zigzagged down the middle of her back and spread 
as her hips shuddered. 

The Chinese captain aimed at her shoulders and more welts broke across her 
skin. As he worked the whip his rump jerked. Li, still stroking came up 
behind the underling, gripped the Captain's waist and fed his cock into 
Wong's narrow asshole. Wong nodded, shuddered and kept swinging the lash. 
The girl shuddered under the caress of the leather and bellowed for more. 
Gwen didn't think a voice that loud could come from a chest cavity that 
small. With each assault, the girl's diaphragm kicked and Gwen wondered if 
she had looked that way when she had been excited by the kiss of the whip. 

"That butt-fucking faggot," she said tightly. "Look at him, screwing that 
other ape, and they're both enjoying themselves." 

"I told you they do." 

"Crap, he comes to me with Wong's shit still stuck to his cockhead." 

"And you loved it." 

"Before I knew about the competition." 

The admission came out so quick, without her even realizing she felt this 
way, that Gwen was surprised. 

Kang looked pleased. At least the way he gripped her hand made her think 
that he was happy with that statement. 

"We've seen enough." He tugged at her arm. 

She pulled away, her knuckles striking the stones. "Ouch." She kissed the 
skinned middle knuckle. "Not yet. I haven't seen enough yet." 

Kang reluctantly settled down beside her. No sense starting an argument out 
here. It was foolhardy, the two of them exposing themselves this way. But he 
didn't dare leave the girl. She was the key. 

The party inside shifted into high gear. Wong swung the whip, then let it 
fly over his head, striking the wall that Gwen and Kang crouched in front 
of. He bent over and Gwen saw his cock, dangling. Bracing both hands on his 
knees, Wong remained still while Major Li screwed his ass. Captain Wong was 
making woman sounds . . . deep throated moans that set his lungs heaving. 
While Li pistoned in jagged movements, Wong held his head back, staring 
blindly at the ceiling. 

The girl, meantime, turned in that slow, steady arc, eyes shut, mouth slack, 
blood oozing. She was either unconscious, or smothered in a pillow of 
passion. 

Would Gwen be dead? Passed out? Or so full of passion that she couldn't do 
more than dangle, and slowly turn? Gwen was stronger than Major Li's other 
twat. She loved it better than the girl-child seemed to. If Gwen fainted it 
would be from lack of food, not lack of sex-stamina. So she thought. She 
would never know unless she took action. 

From where she sat, she saw the door. The bolt was back. The door would open 
without much use of strength. She'd have plenty of strength left for the 
game inside. 

She got up. "I'm going." 

"Yes." Corporal Kang rose also, to accompany her to the Major's lodging. 

"No. This is a one-way journey meant for one. Me." 

He grabbed her arm. "Oh, no. You go to bed." 

"A stone bed." Gwen twisted free and trotted toward the entrance. Kang 
grabbed her before she reached the door. Struggling to free herself, she 
fell backward, taking Kang with her. He landed on top, pinning her to the 
damp earth next to the building. 

"There is only one way to keep you safe until the drug wears off. And this 
is the way." The corporal pulled up Gwen's skirt and dropped her panties. 
She spread her thighs for him, excited by the sudden feel of his fingers. 
She jumped, gasped as he tugged back her labia. Her dewy softness rose to 
his downward thrust. He guided into those steamy, rippling muscle. They 
fitted together nicely, Gwen thought. This was a great place to do it, too. 
The ground was cold, but soft. And, by turning her head, she could see what 
was going on inside the building. 

The girl in chains remained comatose. Captain Wong threw his head back. His 
shout made the girl's eyelids flutter. She remained passive. 

Gwen arched her back, meeting Kang, back up and hips twisting. She jerked, 
locked her legs around his hips to draw him close and hold him there. He was 
charging ahead, steadily picking up the pace, spewing sweat-lathers from his 
brow and legs. The ground was slick with their come and sweat now. The earth 
was slimy. The smell pungent, overpowering. Li and Wong were quiet now, 
probably exhausted, she figured. Gwen's lips chewed to keep from crying out 
as she exploded. 

Corporal Kang was good. She had to give him that much. Not much in the cock 
department, not pretty in a rugged masculine way like Major Li. But what he 
lacked there he made up in technique. This attentiveness, this concern for 
her pleasure would have been more appreciated back home, a century ago. Too 
much had happened to Gwen since then. She was too full of jealousy, and love 
for Li to fully appreciate this young, gasping Chinese who tried so hard to 
please her, and had partway succeeded. 

"Another time, sonny," she said wistfully to Kang. "And that ain't just 
another song title, either." 

He pushed up, using his palms, his arms straddling her near the ribs. "Now 
we can go." 

She let him help her up. "Only one place I'm going, stud." She ducked low, 
threw a shoulder into the Corporal's midsection. 

Kang flew back, his head striking the wall. There was a thud. He gasped, 
falling on his side, unconscious. 

"My place is in there." Gwen glanced wistfully at Kang. She half believed 
him. But she couldn't hold back against the incredible need filling her. 

She stooped for a final glimpse before breaking in. The men had the Korean 
girl untied and on her back. They were talking in guttural whispers, and 
nodding at the girl as they spoke. 

Major Li and Captain Wong were so engrossed in the conference they would 
never hear her until she'd entered. By then they wouldn't be able to refuse 
what she had to offer. 

She'd show Li who the better woman was. After tonight he'd cut loose his 
other girls, and put a padlock and "for sale" sign on Wong's ass. She 
thought it to herself like it was true, and to her, it was. 

SEVEN 

Before entering she stripped. Her breasts trembled, kissed by the night's 
chill. The tips raised. Belly rippling, thoughts painfully, pleasantly 
tense, Gwen pulled the door open. 

The two didn't notice her at first; they were busy trussing the girl to the 
table. She was on her back, awake, eyes wide, quivering as both men stared 
down at her, whispering words that Gwen barely heard and didn't understand. 

A moment's fear at being rejected passed. She strode to the stone table. The 
men turned, surprised. 

"What . . . what are you doing here?" For the first time in their 
relationship, Gwen was seeing Major Li without his composure. 

Captain Wong's gaze was riveted on her pubic bush. Her lust oil was thick 
and heavy. The substance slickened the luxuriant bush to her puckered, 
scarlet labia. 

"You are excited?" Wong folded his arms across his hairy chest. Spasms of 
sexual excitement racked him. He couldn't control the reaction of his 
lust-thickened prick. He had never believed the big, blonde American nurse 
would go this far, practically begging to be hurt. 

"Answer him," Li ordered, gripping her arm. 

"I heard there was a party and I love parties." Gwen's tone was calm casual. 
A facade to cover the desire flaring through every pore, gushing along every 
vein. Drug or no, she was ready to do anything Major Li wanted, even if it 
meant. . . . 

"Don't worry, Major," Wong said in their native tongue. "She suspects 
nothing. She couldn't possibly know how she is being used." 

Li replied, in Chinese, "What is she doing here, then?" 

"As she said, she couldn't sleep, went for a walk, returned here-the scene 
of so much pleasure-and tried the door, found it open and prepared herself 
for more of what she enjoyed this afternoon." Captain Wong's lust was 
infectious. Major Li was a cautious man. But the idea that she had come 
looking for him. apparently ready for the pelasure of dying, screaming and 
writhing under his knife, was too great an ego pleaser to be ignored. 

Li exerted more pressure on her arm. "Is that true?" 

"Is .what true?" 

"Did you just happen to find us?" 

"I found you because you were within walking distance. If you and Mister 
Muscle there had taken a night flight to Tangiers I wouldn't have found 
you." 

"Such humor," Captain Wong scoffed, pretending to turn his attention to the 
girl who was beginning to quiver on the cold stones. Her pussy gave off the 
aroma of passion and that held his attention. 

"So what do we do, gentlemen?" She pulled free of Li's grip. "Talk? Insult 
each other? Or fuck? What's the name of this game, studs . . . fellow 
studs," she added, eying the spread-eagled woman girl. "Very nice," she 
hefted the girl's muscled thigh looking at her slopping pussy. She kept 
making comments under her breath, waiting for her captors to make their 
move. She used the singular reference because she knew that whatever 
happened it would be a singular combined effort. Both men would take her 
together. Being shared didn't bother Gwen as much as she thought. Not as 
long as Li was part of the triangle. And, after all, Wong was coarse, 
totally devoid of refinement. totally unpleasant. Yet he had a great figure. 
Marvelous prick. And used his brutal masculinity in a brutal manner. And 
that's how she was liking it these days. "Well, fellas, what do we do? Who 
do we do it to? Her? Me? Huh?" She turned her back on the girl, resting her 
buttocks against the table rim she folded her arms, pressing her arms 
against her aching, throbbing breasts. The stone edge cut into her butt . . 
. another mild yet enjoyable sensation. But this wasn't getting it done. 
What was needed was more vigorous action. "Come on, gang. Let's do it." Her 
words ran together, breathily, as she exhaled. 

"She sounds interested, Major." Wong was being sly, under control. Yet his 
steadily stiffening cock belied his control. 

"Interested, and ready," Major Li said, casually, watching the love juice 
boil over Gwen's bush, turning the golden brown into a dusky, dusty tangle. 
The lubricant spilled down her upper thighs. The few hairs there became 
plastered to the muscular columns. 

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't interested." She laughed. "I lost my 
curiosity when I saw two dogs, fucking, when I was a tad of a child. Since 
then all I've been curious about was how long it would take my men to get 
around to taking my pants down, and taking me down on the ground. I already 
saved you the trouble of removing my panties. So what else do you need? An 
engraved invitation? One that's engraved on my ass? In fire? Huh?" Her voice 
rose, clattered against the walls. "If that's what you want then bring on 
the branding irons." 

She was shaking all over; her outcry overwhelming the girl's faint sobs. 

Wong and Li took a step forward. Gwen's trembling breasts, quaking belly, 
gushing cunt told them she was ready, telegraphed her need. And they would 
respond in kind. 

Gwen figured out what she would have to do to win back her man. The one 
thing that predators needed . . . the one thing that had turned Li on 
before. Only now there weren't any dry towels or rags around and what she 
had to use to excite him made her nauseated. She envied all men right then. 
They had the muscle . . . the fuck stick . . . the power, raw, brutal, 
unrelenting . . . the strength needed to give Li what he wanted but didn't 
take because to assume that passive position would, in some way she couldn't 
fathom, admit failure as a man. 

"Come here, Major Li," she ordered. 

The tone's force surprised Major Li, stopped him an arm's length from the 
stone table. 

"I said come here." 

And he came to her, waving Wong back. 

"What's it to be, my dear?" The oily silky sounds formed grease pods in her 
chest. 

"My dear, what do you want?" He took her in his arms, holding her at arm's 
length, kneading her biceps. His breath was bitter, like the smell of an 
iron fence after a summer downpour. His knotted muscles rippled. The skin 
glistened. His face was twisted in a leer. 

His eyes were dilated, receded. His long straight hair sagged across his 
brow, throwing strands of black, like soot, along the upper portion of his 
temple. 

She played with his nipples. "What you want." Her hand dropped, covered his 
cock. "I'm going to play a little game, Li. Like we played in bed last 
night. Only this time I'll be the towel. Do you remember?" 

His cock tensed, pre-come spurted, his face paled, the cheek muscles 
flinched. 

"I see you do remember. Major." 

"Yes, yes, T do." 

"Good. Now all you have to do is relax and follow my lead." 

She stepped between her lover and Captain Wong. The captain gave ground, 
interested, excited. He cupped his balls, and watched. The girl on the table 
turned her head. Her crying had stopped. She tried, instinctively, to reach 
her pussy. Her hands were tied. She tugged at the leather, whimpering when 
the thongs held. 

Gwen got behind Li, pushed his lower back. He bent over. She spread his 
legs. He was tense, expectant. That was good. His imagination was creating a 
kick that would be far greater than the actual act. 

She tugged at his cock shaft with her hand. He gasped. Back leg muscles set 
rigidly. She got down on her hands and knees and shoving her head between 
his legs she tongue-patted the cockhead. He was gasping. If she was lucky 
he'd come before she had to do what had to be done. For she admitted to 
herself that the girl was prettier and in better condition than she had 
looked through the cement crack. Gwen couldn't compete with this little 
dolly. And all the kid had to do was lay there, passive, and enjoy the 
action. If Gwen was going to win back her China doll she had to make it good 
for him. 

She laved the spongy tip, patting his ass at the same time. He was loving 
it, she noted with some pride. The pre-come was becoming more solid . . . 
the first burst of jizz struck her tongue tip. She made a trench of her 
tongue, curved inward, and sucked down the creamy, thick jelly. She had to 
hold his legs, like Samson bracing his hands on the temple pillars before he 
pulled that hedonistic house down on himself and his enemies. She avoided 
the shaft, concentrating on the sensitive peak. He was gushing faster. He 
closed his legs to keep from falling, trapping her head. Just then she felt 
hot hands on her ass, then a jerk to raise her hips. Trembling fingers 
separated her cheeks. Two swift bursts of jizz lubricated her innards, 
scalding the hole. She grunted and nearly lost her balance as Wong forced 
his prick into her ass. He rode her fast, in and out, drilling deeper with 
each pass, making her feel it all the way through her stomach and into her 
brain, creating bright red, yellow and purple cascading dots before her 
eyes. He was coming fast, too. Each spurt hitting with such force she nearly 
fell. With each eruption she came; the ground beneath her feet was oozy with 
their combined orgasms. Li's jizz dribbled from the corners of her mouth, 
down her chin, nearly smothering her. For even though she drank rapidly she 
couldn't keep up with him. Seconds passed and Li ran out of sperm. Wong was 
done, too, and was withdrawing. Like a cork coming out of a bottle the sound 
of his withdrawal was soft, popping. The captain grunted, mumbled something 
in Chinese and retreated, leaving her backside drenched in sweat. His seed 
slicked the lower slope of her dewlapped buttocks. The few hairs back there 
felt as if they had been torn from their sockets. His retreat removed the 
warmth of his body. Goosebumps broke out and her back muscles quavered. She 
felt her buttocks lift and lower in an abrupt, short lived rhythm. And this 
wasn't the end of it. Before she was done she'd be plenty sweaty, and cold. 

Li started to disengage himself. She slapped his ass. 

"No," she barked. "I'm not done yet." 

"But T am." He snapped his fingers and Wong approached, with a robe. 

"Get the hell back you overweight Chinaman." 

Her forcefulness stopped Wong. 

"Do what she says, Wong," Li droned, with a shrug. "For a few more seconds." 

Wong withdrew. The girl, meanwhile, was grunting, her legs pressed together 
as she worked to get her rocks off. 

"Shut the hell up, bitch." 

The girl didn't understand this dominating. pale skinned woman's words. All 
she understood was the forceful tone of voice. She obeyed, blushing, eyes 
downcast, avoiding the penetrating, unblinking stare. This woman's eyes were 
blue. Like pure lakes kissed with sunlight. Clear. Tiny fires pinpointing 
just beneath the surface. The child was acutely aware of the reaction this 
big blonde was having on her. If she could only communicate this feeling to 
this plump, healthy looking woman. She whimpered, frustrated. 

"You shut up." Then Gwen lowered her voice, making the sound tender. 
"Please, be quiet. Behave and T will take care of you. Promise." 

The girl understood. Their eyes met. They exchanged a warm thought. 

"Now, Li," she said, all business once more. "You stay right where you are." 

"My feet are cold," he replied, lamely, dancing on one foot. 

"Baby will warm them up." 

"If you don't," Wong threatened, behind her, "I will." 

Li laughed. "Your turn will come, my friend, Wong." Then, to her: "What will 
you do, to warm my feet?" He tried to tell her what he needed by the tone of 
voice, without saying the words that he couldn't admit, not even now, not 
even if it meant pleasure for him to ask for, and receive. To ask was an 
admission of something he dare not face. To submit, to subject himself, to 
surrender himself totally would destroy him. He must not, would not give in. 

"I don't tell, Li. I show." 

As she talked she positioned him again, same stance, legs spread, his upper 
torso bent toward the altar. The girl was again watching, waiting, praying 
for her turn. 

Gwen squatted, holding a hand over her own rear hole, to avoid any 
distractions. She wanted in, and then out, as soon as possible. Bending her 
knees slightly, she spread open his ass cheeks. He was shaking already, 
snaking and gasping and lifting and lowering on the balls of his feet. This 
was going to be quick. 

She reached between his legs, clutched his stick, pumped the shaft lightly 
as she kissed his cheeks. There was some hair protruding and she seized the 
curled strands between her teeth, and pulled. He winced, whimpered. His cock 
hardened. She pumped faster. Parting his cheeks with her tongue she laved 
the inner crease. Crusted waste exuded a stale, bitter odor and taste. And 
even so it wasn't unpleasant. Somehow she couldn't accept what it was that 
she was doing; the love she had felt for Li returned, drowning the jealousy 
and hurt, in a tidal wave of desire. She hungrily devoured the inner crease, 
accepting whatever was lodged there without hesitation. 

"Oh . . . oh . . . " Li moaned, accepting, submitting, his head rocking back 
and forth, his hands at his sides, clenching, relaxing. 

She kept at him, pumping the shaft, running a thumb nail across the head, 
massaging closer to that tiny hole, her tongue bathing the sensitive inner 
muscles. That tiny aperture was closed. He was fighting her, fighting the 
inevitable confrontation with the man he really was. By tightening his 
muscles he was forestalling, for a time, this realization. She didn't know 
this, though. All she knew was that Li was tense, that this massage wasn't 
bringing him the pleasure that she wanted to give him. She kept on, pumping 
faster, kissing him, making guttural sucking sounds as she breathed deeper, 
probing higher, reaching the anus. He hollered. She paused, then slithered 
the tongue tip deeper still, into an area no human had ever invaded. She 
plugged him, jammed the tip until it could no longer advance. That was deep 
enough. The vibrations had reached the prostate. His cock felt bigger than 
it ever had before. It was a hot slab, like a sun baked tombstone, in her 
hand. The come erupted. He wrenched his hips rapidly, in a pitiful feminine 
way. made even more pitiful by the helpless wail that escaped him, by the 
unskilled, unfamiliar way his hips worked. She dropped his cock, gripped his 
hips to keep from falling over. Her own hips were working. Her big ass swung 
sideways, the cheeks slapping together. She bucked and twisted and still 
maintained her balance. Her tongue remained lodged in that moist snug 
flesh-cocoon. She wiggled the tip and that got him going again. She felt his 
innards tighten up, could visualize the cock raising, the buttocks closing. 
She opened her eyes and was dazzled by a vast expanse of smooth, soft butt 
flesh. He smelled so strong, so virile. Yet the butt muscles, somehow, were 
those of a woman. But her Li was certainly no woman. A bit strange, perhaps. 
But, then, hadn't she heard that power corrupts? 

She laved what she could before he jerked forward, nearly tearing out her 
tongue. He fell, palms open and spread, against the table edge. Bellowing, 
he rubbed his shaft on the cold stone. He tensed, rubbed faster, then 
whimpered as his climax exploded with a muted popping kissing sound. He 
sagged to the floor on his knees, pressing his flushed sweating forehead 
against the impassive coldness of the rim. 

The girl wailed, begged in her native tongue for release. Wong went to her. 
He had passively observed and now wanted to be a participant. He climbed 
onto the altar, ignoring his Major and the woman who went to him, knelt 
beside him, embraced his shoulder, pressed her hip against his hip, 
whispered comforting words, begged him to tell her what was the matter. Wong 
ignored this passionate display, the kind of ridiculous charade that lovers 
engage in, thinking that a few sincere words, a sincere sacrificing of flesh 
to assuage their love partner's fears and hurt, could ever lesson the hurt. 
And what had his Major to fear? The loss of the one thing he had never had. 
the one thing he had deluded himself into believing he'd had. Wong dismissed 
the other couple as he knelt between the child's legs, felt her thighs 
tighten to grip him, felt the slick of her belly sweat, slid into the curly 
haired jet black depths. The snug labia closed on his cockhead. The muscles 
expanded to accept his girth. She cried out, ecstasy mixed with discomfort 
at so big a man in her young belly. 

Wong lunged ahead, not giving a damn whether or not the girl enjoyed the 
assault, not really caring about anyone save himself, his own pain that ran 
through his passion-clogged testicles. He humped with a bull's abandon, not 
feeling the presence of the others, not even realizing that he had a 
partner. All she was a receptacle for his lust. Receptacles didn't feel, 
weren't human. He humped methodically, sawing her tender, sensitive fibers. 
All he thought about as he plunged away was how much snugger, warmer, 
moister her ass might be. Too much trouble now to untie her, turn her over. 
He couldn't wait. His nuts hurt too much. Wong pummeled the child, felt her 
inside muscles grip him, hungrily, selfishly taking him, holding him, using 
him to achieve her own satisfaction. She wouldn't let go, couldn't let go. 
She held tight, wishing for the blonde, imagining what the older woman would 
be like. And as her imagination formed sharply etched fantasies the 
woman-child hit her orgasm. Wong bore down, striking repeatedly with tiny, 
sharp blows. Her sudden clenched hold, and scream, startled him, for he had 
forgotten what it was he was fucking. His rocks gave up their load, the 
semen issued forth, flooding the small vessel, spilling over onto the stone 
wedges beneath her rump. He rode her until she sagged, went limp. Then he 
realized that he was soft, and still pumping away as though trying to drive 
out the demons of his soul by pushing them away, stuffing them into her, 
making her the unwilling receptacle of his panic, forcing his demons onto 
her and thereby freeing himself. 

As he climbed off he couldn't pin down what shape those demons took. He only 
knew that they were there, lurking somewhere on the other side of his 
vision, lurking and observing and waiting to pounce whenever he lowered his 
guard. He couldn't help but feel that this utopia of Hamhung was about to be 
destroyed. Not from without but from within. He didn't know when it would 
happen, what form it would take, not even who would be the instrument of 
this destruction. It would happen. He knew that much and, furiously, he 
started in on the girl, determined to take what pleasure remained. 

Still soft, he covered her belly with his body. He rubbed his limp stick on 
her soft belly. She understood what he was trying to do and tensed the 
muscles, providing a perfumed pillow for his gyrations. 

He rubbed himself into an erection. He scooted up; she opened her mouth. Her 
tongue darted, crisscrossing his cockhead, flinging spittle into his curled 
pubic zone. His nuts rubbed her chin; she sucked him off. His massiveness 
strained her jaws, forced them wide. She gagged. The sound was muffled. He 
poured the juice of his loins down her throat and her Adam's apple bobbed as 
she accepted all that he gave. He was empty again and he climbed off. 
Glancing down he saw the vacant, lust drained dullness of her eyes, the 
slack jaws, speckled with his seed, the tousled hair matting her forehead. 
He squashed a jizz pod on her chin, felt the pod explode into nothingness, 
heard her grunt from the pressure, a weak grunt at that, he observed, 
feeling better somehow, less afraid, more sure of himself, his strength, his 
entire universe which was squeezed into the make shift compound known as 
Hamhung. Beyond this utopia was the real world. But its existence didn't 
trouble him any longer. Or at least it didn't bother him as much. Tomorrow, 
he knew, he would have to face it. But not now. And, if he was lucky, not 
tomorrow, either. 

He climbed off the altar, turning his back and his thoughts on the child. He 
was more interested now in the other bitch, the big blonde American. She was 
still seated on the floor, an arm around Li's waist, kissing the docile 
officer. As he passed them, on his way outside to piss, he wondered what 
games they would devise, and what his role would be. 

EIGHT 

Gwen held Major Li, cradled his head, holding his feverish cheek to her 
breast. So like a child now. She didn't understand why, and that frightened 
her. 

"What's wrong, my dear?" 

Li didn't reply. He exhaled saliva and breath over her soft breast. 

"You didn't enjoy it? Why?" 

He cleared his throat, tested the phrases before beginning. He had already 
shown weakness. Now it had to end, at least for his underlings. His 
awakening, his horror would have to be dealt with in private, alone. He 
would grapple with this demon and best him. But even as he made this vow his 
prostate tingled and his rectal muscles clenched. 

"I suppose I'm tired," he heard himself say. "That's why I'm behaving this 
way." 

She patted his cheek. "Yes, you had a long day. We both did." 

He let her mother him a moment longer before knocking her hand aside, and 
climbing to his feet. His bladder was full. He excused himself and went out. 

She was alone. No Wong and now no Li. Just her and her desire. Gwen had been 
doing all the giving, now she wanted some getting. Just then she became 
aware of the girl. The child lay wide eyed, silent, watching her, 
transfixed, like an infant with a new toy, a new discovery. Only, Gwen 
realized, the girl knew what it was that was fascinating her. The child 
knew, and wanted it. Well, Gwen wanted something, too, and right then, after 
what she'd just been through, she wasn't particular where she got it. But, 
before she went after relief, she wanted the girl to know exactly what was 
expected of her. 

Gwen spread her own legs, hefted her tits, squeezing the nipples, crushing 
the erect thumbs. Gwen ran her hands down her sides, cupping her belly, 
prying open her cunt, pulling the erect clitoris free of the muscle cover. 
Then, as the child gaped and gasped, Gwen turned, completing the seduction. 
She patted, fondled her own buttocks, marveling at the suppleness of her 
flesh, the smoothness of her skin. She probed the outer areas, trying to 
imagine what it had been like for Li. 

"I'll find out," she said, shiny eyed, trembling. 

She ran to the altar. The girl moaned, twisted against her bonds as Gwen 
climbed on. her titties dancing, belly pumping even before she settled down 
beside the child. Gwen kissed the girl's mouth. Their tongues locked, saliva 
flowed and mingled. Gwen crawled on top of the child. Their tits crushed 
together, hips churned to the same rhythm. Without freeing the girl, Gwen 
got up suddenly. The child cried out, not sure what was going to happen, 
frightened that this huge wonderful being was going to desert her. 

Gwen crouched over the girl, lowered herself until the child's mouth was 
juxtaposed with Gwen's ripe hind flesh. The girl tried to reach Gwen's cunt, 
with her tongue. Gwen shied away, spread her rear cheeks. 

"Suck me there," she commanded, lowering herself. When the girl's tongue 
tickled the outer butt-rim, Gwen giggled, then raised her head and shut her 
eyes. Moaning, her tongue tip darting along her lips, Gwen settled down, 
letting the girl ream her anus. 

Yes, it was a thrill. A delicious experience. She envied Li's orgasm and 
knew hers would be just as deep, as overwhelming. She sat on the girl's 
face, nearly smothering the child in dewy flesh folds. The girl's nose was 
pressed against Gwen's snatch. The hind and public hairs tickled. The 
sweet-bitter flesh stung. But the girl stayed at that succulent fruit pie. 
She tilted her chin back, to better seize that deeply packed blind eye. The 
woman was jerking back and forth, making steady penetration difficult. She 
remained at her task. Kissing, grunting, pouring saliva up and into that 
marvelous deep cavern. Then the big woman tensed. The orgasm flowed, 
stinging, choking, overpowering, awakening a need in her own snatch, a need 
that so far hadn't been satisfied. 

Gwen whipped her pelvis, marveling at the child's technique. The kid kept at 
it, giving and giving like a baby taking and taking at its mother's tit. The 
little bitch was like the Oriental women she'd heard so much about: self 
sacrificing for their men. Gwen didn't know that also applied to their 
women, too. A lover in a lover, she figured. Devotion was devotion. But to 
find such devotion in one so young, so attentive to a stranger . . . that 
was really something to marvel at. Maybe Gwen would repay the kindness. 
Pretty quick, in fact, she mused as her clitoris emptied. She remained at 
the girl's mouth. The girl was sobbing, probably drowning in all that flesh 
and orgasm. 

Gwen scooted back, pinning the girl's titties. Looking down at the child, 
she smiled and the girl smiled back weakly. Tears streaked her cheeks. Her 
eyes were luminescent from the tears. Her lips were pale and coated with 
Gwen's spent passion. Her mouth opened slightly. In a weak voice she 
whispered one word. Gwen cradled the girl's face, bending ever so slightly 
to hear. She understood and she laughed. The girl was saying: fuck. Kissing 
the child on the mouth she swung around, her vagina lowering onto the girl's 
face. 

"That's exactly what we'll do, my young friend. Together." 

She positioned herself so her clit was against the girl's mouth. The girl 
began kissing her pubic pelt. Gwen pressed her lips to the fragrant fur. 
When the girl's tongue penetrated. Gwen entered, keeping stride with her 
partner. The child clasped Gwen's clit between her teeth, surprising Gwen, 
sending rills like hot needles through her vagina, touching off tiny orgasms 
that built toward the massive climax. Gwen took the girl's smaller clit 
between her teeth. But that tiny bud was slippery and not nearly the size of 
Gwen's thumb-like gland. So Gwen tongue-kissed the organ. She was almost 
there; Gwen felt the first eruptions, tiny at first but rapidly building. 
The kid was going to come in a big burst, as massive as those belly quaking 
explosions that Gwen enjoyed. She was going to make the kid enjoy it, and 
more if the child was up to it. Gwen controlled her own climax until the 
girl, with a yelp, went off. Then Gwen let go and they were both inundated 
in perfume, and heat and tidal waves of desire. They clung together, 
prolonging the pleasure, the ecstasy for as long as possible and when they 
were both empty they tried to re-ignite the lust. But both women were 
satiated, fatigued. As Gwen climbed off she became impatient. She wanted a 
party that was coed, with Li on top and maybe the child next to them 
somewhere. She was a lovely child, though. And Gwen kissed her warmly, 
sincerely. She didn't untie her, however. Somehow the girl looked natural 
shackled. 

NINE 

Li and Wong were back in the room. The men were grinning, glancing at each 
other, sharing a secret, a truth. In Wong's hand was a small iron bowl with 
a screen over the top and handles on either side. As he put the bowl on the 
floor near the altar something inside the vessel rattled. 

Wong squatted, his big balls bumping the handle and, winking at Li, he 
produced matches. He struck the stick match on the floor and when it 
ignited, he dropped it into the bowl. Immediately the bowl's insides became 
a single flame. Gwen realized that this iron bowl was, in reality, a small 
portable grill. 

"You remember, my dear," Li said at her side, "this afternoon. When I showed 
you this." He took from his belt the short pole with the solid disc on the 
tip of it. "You seemed interested. I hope the interest was more than 
cursory." 

She sensed what was going to happen. At that moment she didn't know what her 
reaction would be. For, as the drug wore off, her own inhibitions were 
returning. She realized for certain now that she had been drugged. And still 
her emotions weren't under control. 

"I'm still interested." She moved closer to the comforting warmth. The coals 
sputtered, spewing light to match the overhead glow. Corner shadows remained 
and for an instant a cold fear passed over her heart, transmitted from 
something that lurked there, in those shadows. She was a child again, on the 
farm, and it was a cold Autumn night with the wind making frightening sounds 
against the corn silo, and the tree branches scratching like cat's claws, 
against the window. But she was not a child. She was an adult playing adult 
games and enjoying them with the man she was in love with. And shadows were 
merely that. Places where the light hadn't reached. Not hiding places for 
demons, emissaries from hell, sent to carry her off to a passion's pit too 
horrifying even for her. 

Li turned the iron disc across the coals, stirring up sparks. He held the 
pole steady, ignoring the heat that singed the hair on his legs. Wong paced 
near the flaming bowl, lip chewing, rubbing his hands together. 

"Here," Li said. "Do this. Your pacing makes me nervous." He let the pole 
lean toward the floor, the disc-tip impaled between two coals. 

Wong took hold of the pole, stirring occasionally, raising the sparks. Li 
crossed to the altar and untied the child. He helped her off and escorted 
her into a corner, where she knelt rubbing her wrists, watching the two men 
and that gorgeous white woman. She so wanted to touch the woman, embrace 
her, kiss her all over and, in turn, be kissed. But when Li saw her look at 
Gwen he had scowled his disapproval. So she knelt and watched and hoped for 
another embrace. 

Gwen remained standing, midway between the altar and the open grill. Li and 
Wong ignored her. Neither spoke. Their attention was on the grill as if what 
was warming was an expensive cut of meat. She wondered if that wasn't an apt 
turn of phrase. Question was who would be the meat? Li turned toward her, 
smiling, while Wong removed the pole from the flame. The flat disc glowed 
white in the center, red around the rim. As Li approached Gwen knew who the 
meat would be. What she wasn't sure of was her reaction. She still loved 
this lovely brute, would do anything, suffer any indignity to earn and keep 
his love. But, she didn't know if she was strong enough to suffer the 
brutality of the fire. 

"Come, dear," Major Li whispered, mesmerized by the disc's glow. "Please." 
He escorted her to the table. Gwen let herself be led to the oblong shaped 
stone table, helped onto the cold cement, trussed hand and foot on her 
stomach. The cold gnawed at her belly and breasts. Her nipples pulsed and 
the stiffening was held back by the insurmountable force pressing against 
her. Her pubic patch crinkled dryly. 

Wong was giggling like a drooling fool. Li chuckled; his voice shook. 

"My precious," he began in a hushed litany. "I have loved you as no man has 
ever loved you. I have given you the force, the strength of my love until I 
can no longer express my love. Yet, you still desire love. And I have but 
one way to show my love." He stirred up the fire. Triangular shadows smote 
the walls and ceiling. The blaze crackled. Sparks flew. One cinder wavered 
onto her left buttock. It singed the flesh before sputtering out. She 
gasped. It was a needle barely pricking the flesh. It was quickly gone and 
she was left with a rapidly beating heart, and a steady pulse deep down in 
her gut. 

"What are you going to do?" She trembled and the tremors sounded in her 
throat. 

"Love you as only you can be loved." 

Wong was laughing hysterically; the obscene noise clattered around the room, 
echoing and re-echoing. 

Li lifted the pole. The flat end hissed when the cool, damp air touched it. 
Holding it in front of him he started toward the altar. Gwen watched him 
approach. Her heart quaked. She was coming. She couldn't help herself, 
couldn't control what was happening in her guts, couldn't put down the fear 
even as the desire swelled her clitoris, setting off the orgasms, a series 
of small bursts that surfaced, then died, only to be rekindled as the head 
of the firebrand drew near. 

The girl sat on her haunches, watching fascinated at what was about to take 
place. Since being taken from her home, in a nearby village and brought 
here, she had witnessed and participated in many things, some pleasurable, 
many unpleasant. But this was the first time she had seen fire used. And it 
held for her a fascination like nothing she had ever felt before. She began 
touching her breasts, belly and, raising herself, fondled her buttocks, 
imagining the firebrand on her, touching her as she touched herself. 

Wong followed his major, staying close but not too close in case the fire 
was turned on him. 

Li reached the altar. "Are you ready, my dear?" His voice was soft, almost 
gentle. 

"Kiss me first." she whimpered. 

Holding the brand away from her sweating supple buttocks, Major Li bent to 
kiss the feverish, flushed face. Her body gave off a variety of aromas, of 
sweat, of fear, of need, of orgasm. The odors excited him, as much as the 
brandishing of this male symbol excited him. His cock lifted. The iron's 
heat tickled the prick hairs, burned the head, raised the surging in his 
balls into his shaft. He held the iron aloft. The fires caught the glint in 
her eyes, reflected the flames that scalded her soul. 

It was just a kiss away, she told herself. The ultimate kiss. The kiss that 
would send her into a dizzying orgasm, a roller coaster into vast eternity 
or into the slimy bowels of hell itself. It was so close she smelled the 
burnished iron, felt the radiating vibrations. She could stick out her 
tongue and taste the fire, swallow its heat. The warmth, the power invaded 
her and ignited desires never before felt. 

This was how it would end, how it had to end. The end of one life, the 
beginning of another. A life that threatened her sanity as she thought of 
it. 

"My dear . . . my dear. . . . " Li held the pole over his head, pointed at 
her shoulder. He slowly moved the iron down, stopping at a supple buttock. 
"Flex it. Yes, that's better. You obey wonderfully. Tell me why." 

"I love you," she squeaked. 

"Yes, that would be your reason, my dear. I'm so glad I found you. So glad." 

He straightened his arm. The iron was aimed at the tightened muscle. She 
shut her eyes, clenched her jaws. 

"Iiiiieeee," he screamed, lunging. 

The descending weapon whooshed as it slit the air. The heat intensified. She 
bit her lip, tensed, fighting the fear, the outcry that burned her lungs. 
Closer it came; the inferno threatened to consume her. She couldn't breathe, 
couldn't think as Li's screams filled the room. 

Down it came, white hot, burning, violating the alabaster muscle of her 
butt. She tightened her jaw, drawing blood from her lip. The disc burned 
away layers of flesh. 

She expected pain. But it wasn't pain she felt. Even as the stink of burned 
flesh rose thickly and the fist-like inferno spread from the scorched 
buttock another sensation flared. It spread rapidly, diminishing the 
discomfort. Pleasure was what it was. Not the mild pleasure of a lover's 
hand on her body. Not the ecstasy of a lover's kiss. This pleasure was 
everywhere at once, consuming fear, consuming frustration, consuming 
everything she had ever been taught. What remained was a truth so strong it 
jarred her mind. This truth, far from being a nebulous, antiseptic tenet, 
clutched at her loins, jerking the orgasm with such force she was left limp. 
She was floating away, lifting above all the petty frustrations of this 
life, to a higher form of existence. She seemed to leave this imperfect 
body, to take on a newer better form. She was going to a higher plain of 
life, not into the bowels of hell, after all. 

She raised her head and saw, through a mist, her lover standing there, the 
iron still in his hand, his cock raised toward her. Just a kiss away, she 
thought, that was how close he was. And he was approaching. Her one regret 
was that he wouldn't accompany her on this journey. 

His cock was painfully surging. He flung the iron to the floor where it 
clattered dully. Two strides and he was at the altar. She was fainting. He 
needed to have her feel this. 

He climbed onto the altar and stood over her, legs straddling her hips. He 
jerked his prick. The jizz boiled and spattered the round wound. As the 
substance struck the seared flesh the wound hissed. He wondered if she felt 
it. No, she couldn't, she had already passed out. He posed over her, his 
cock dangling, dripping. He was still excited. He turned to Wong. The 
huskier man stood, fists jammed into hips, watching his superior. A sly 
smile crossed the captain's mouth. 

"Which one shall we take?" Wong gestured over his shoulder to the corner 
where the child languished. "This one?" 

"Yes, Wong. Her." And he pointed. 

The child whimpered. All through this last episode she had watched, too 
terrified to move. It was like some kind of horrible dream. Her beautiful 
friend. Stretched out. trussed like a sacrificial animal. Then branded by 
that obscene, leering man. And now they were going to do the same thing to 
her. As Wong approached she crawled away, toward the door. Laughing, 
breathing hard. Wong let her take a few steps. Then he chased her. She 
ducked back, against the wall, and sliding along the wall, she covered a 
dozen feet. The stone cut her back and buttocks. She felt nothing. Fear 
galvanized her, gave her strength that she needed to reach the officer's 
neatly piled clothing, at the rear of the building. Wong chortled, watching 
the slim child struggle against the inevitable. She was truly pathetic, as 
were all weak insignificant people. Like a trapped mouse she railed against 
what was sure to happen. He played her like a fisherman plays his catch, 
giving a little slack of the line, then pulling it in, gradually drawing the 
hapless victim into the net. She was at the clothing, reaching for his belt. 
That was how she wanted it? Fine. Of course, she thought the belt would be a 
substitute for the iron. Well, let her think it. Already Li had the iron and 
was placing it into the squatty bowl-shaped grill. The smell of the flesh 
shards, clinging to the disc, filled the room when they touched the coals. 
The aroma was more exotic than the most succulent of meats. The perfume and 
the scent of fear that splashed from this child's body met and mingled 
somewhere above Wong's head. The combined aromas descended, penetrated his 
consciousness and filled him with a relaxed feeling. He felt lazy, not in 
any hurry to devour the prize, much the same as a man feels when he is about 
to tear into a steak and wants to savor the aroma, the experience. 

She was a delicious, succulent prize. The base balled breasts with their 
scarlet aureoles and stubby nipples were so sweet to observe he tasted their 
fruit. The stomach was flat and rivers gushed from the curled center. The 
pudenda, with its thick black hair, was almost completely covered, as was 
the lower swell of the belly and upper parts of her thighs. He could still 
see a pale red crease that bisected the thick pelt. She was turning now, 
bending for the belt. The scratch of her nails on the heavy brass buckle was 
like rat's claws on concrete. That sound and the sight of her supple, solid 
buttocks further excited him. They were so perfect, so pale, so vulnerable. 
. . . An orifice so sensitive that it had to be violated. After the 
vulnerable protection was thoroughly used. 

One arm, straight out, caught her as she clutched the belt. He pulled her 
away from the pile before she gold hold of the American made forty-five 
pistol. He hadn't seen what she reached for and that was a blessing. If he 
had he would've shoved her face into that flaming grill. For starters. As it 
was he would hurt her. It had to be. His major had used that lovely blonde. 
Now it was Wong's turn to use what was left. 

He held her tight, his prick rubbing her buttocks. His hairy chest, smeared 
with sweat, crushed against her spine. His armpits, his mouth threw a stench 
as strong as the corpse-pile after an air raid. 

She struggled, trying to slip from his slippery grasp. He laughed; the noise 
hurt her ears. He lifted her six inches off the ground and sunk his teeth 
into her shoulder, drawing blood. She cried out. He dropped her hard. The 
slimy cement jarred her feet; she felt the impact through her knees. He spun 
her around, facing him, and pulled her against him. His stiff prick was lost 
in her curled pubic patch. Again, he lifted her, spread his legs for support 
and bent his knees slightly. He lowered her onto his cock. As the rigid 
flesh penetrated, scalding her insides, she tossed her head back and with 
eyes closed she parted her lips and wailed. He forced her down, imbedding 
his muscle to the shaft's base, to his balls. The enlarged testicles were 
smothered by the lower slope of her ass. He lifted and lowered her, his 
fingers digging into the tiny fat folds around her hips. Baby fat, he mused. 
He kept pushing her up, then down, until she felt the rhythm and initiated 
the stepped up pace, matching the thrill he was experiencing with her own. 
He plunged into those sweet young depths, burning her insides with his 
climax. She worked her pelvis rapidly, wrenching free her own orgasm. Then, 
as abruptly as he had taken her. he threw her away. Lifting her so her knees 
were level with his nipples, he tossed her toward the wall. Like a cat she 
worked for her own preservation. Hands open, she struck the wall but her 
palms took the force of impact. Knees bent, she broke the fall as she went 
straight down. Arms stretched backward she again struck the wall and, again, 
her palms absorbed the impact. She pushed away from the wall to keep from 
striking the back of her head. She fell forward and before she hit the floor 
she flung her arms out in front of her. She fell on her hands, skinning the 
heels. One knee cracked against the stone. A sudden pain burst and then that 
passed. She lay, panting, her sweat stinging her eyes. The cold bit her tits 
and hips, which also had been skinned. Sweat gushed into the cuts, burning, 
keeping her from passing out from the shock. Her head still worked. She 
still planned even as Wong strode to her, belt in hand, buckle locked in his 
fist. As he brought the belt down on her buttocks, cutting flesh, the buckle 
dug his palm, causing some pain. As he snapped the belt back, after raising 
a welt across the perfect spheres, he flipped the belt, catching it by the 
opposite end. 

She wasn't responding. She was conscious. He heard her gasping sobs. She was 
awake all right but the little bitch was playing coy, not showing emotion. 
So why not use the buckle on her? Feeling the buckle's bite would elicit a 
response. And, anyway, it was better she should feel the force of the buckle 
instead of him. He inspected the tiny palm cut before swinging the belt over 
his head. The awesome weapon rent the air, a Banshee's wail followed the 
descending arc. The sound belonged to him. She remained impassive. Arms down 
at her sides, back and buttocks rigid, toes drawn out, like the cast of 
death. The belt came down on the right buttock. The flesh wiggled, blood 
from a dozen tiny right angled cuts, spewed. Like an infant pissing. 

She shuddered, whimpered, shoved a hand into her mouth to stifle the 
outcries. If he was going to make her cry then the bastard was going to have 
to work for it. Her thoughts were working in another direction, placing 
locations, measuring distances, locating what she would need. 

"Bitch, let me hear you sing," Wong shrieked, his voice trebling like a 
hysterical woman. 

Again and again he smote those helpless quivering cheeks. More cuts, welts, 
bruises and still nothing more than a whimper. 

"I'll make you feel, he grunted, chest heaving. He flung the belt away. His 
arm ached from wrist to shoulder. His nuts throbbed. He had to come but he 
wouldn't be able to, not until she submitted, bellowing her agony. Then he 
could fling himself onto her back, plunging his weapon into her yielding 
rear hole. And that image formed another image. Like he had wanted to do all 
along. That's what he would do now. He would show her what a man could do to 
an unwilling helpless bitch. He would show her and she would never forget 
the lesson. 

He reached his clothes. There, tucked under his jacket, was a set of knives, 
identical to the set Li displayed on his girdle. He drew a long, narrow 
stiletto. An inch wide, six inches long with an ivory tapered handle bound 
in gold. The handle slid in his sweating grip. He tightened his fist. The 
palm-cut, mingling with the sweat, made holding the knife difficult. He 
wiped his hand on the jacket then took the weapon again and turned to the 
helpless child. She was prostrate as before, rivulets of blood dripping 
between the tense hind cheeks, turning the dark narrow crease even darker. 

He reached her, squatted, his big prick scraping the floor. The spongy tip 
brushed the jagged stones and he winced. He pressed a hand on her lower 
spine, above the buttocks. She slowly turned her head. She was bleary-eyed, 
pale, in shock, he thought. Too bad. He wanted her to see this coming, 
wanted her to feel the sting before it reached her, wanted her to feel the 
mindless blade driving through that tiny crease, burrowing between the 
vulnerable butt muscles, tearing the hole and penetrating deeper, still 
deeper until she cried out, admitted her vulnerability, admitted defeat, 
screamed for forgiveness for whatever nameless petty crimes she might have 
committed against family, country, diety, begged for mercy. Yes, he wanted 
her to be awake, to experience all of this, or else it would be no good for 
him. 

He grabbed her long hair, twisted until he could twist no more, until her 
head was pulled away from him, and she was on her side, gaping at his 
clenched face. The tears boiled, her lower lip trembled, spasms racked her 
cheeks, her throat, her Adam's apple bobbed, her shoulders shook and the 
breasts danced. 

She was exquisite. Helpless, vulnerable as only a defenseless child can be. 
Oh, my, my, but she was ravishing. Wong couldn't use the dagger just yet. He 
had to make her taste him again. He lay the stiletto beside his foot and, 
swinging his leg around, straddled her head, his big toes lost in temple 
hair. Her eyes were wide, unblinking. She was transfixed by the enormous 
wedge that was lowering toward her mouth. 

Wong squatted and forced her mouth open. "You will drink of this, swallow it 
all." She gagged as pre-come dripped over her lower lip and spilled between 
her bottom teeth. "Yes, child, gag, struggle." She twisted her head, side to 
side, groaning through her nose, the nostrils flaring, saliva bubbling over 
her slack lips. "That's it, that's it," he babbled, wide eyed, transfixed. 
"That's exactly what I want, what I need, yes, oh, yes, my little girl, my 
frail child, oh, yes, now you drink, take it, take it now." His voice 
skittered. He raised his buttocks slightly to position the cock to her 
mouth. As the head touched her lips she clenched her jaws. The soft lips, 
slapping his sensitive head, made him gurgle. Sweat blinded him, spasms 
threatened to topple him. He squeezed her mouth open. "You bite me and I 
will slit your throat." He glanced at his foot where the stiletto was. The 
knife was gone. A flash of silver, enhanced by the stirring coals across the 
room, registered through the corner of one eye. Before the sight made 
contact with the brain, before he knew what the flash belonged to, it was 
too late. An instant's awareness as the blade's tip touched his scrotum. 
"Eeeee, eeeee." The outcry was instinctive. His mind couldn't grasp what was 
happening. The blade drove through the sack, severing veins, arteries, 
cutting the balls, separating them, continuing on into the base of the 
shaft, tearing the muscle in half as she jerked the knife toward her head, 
away from him, ripping the muscle in jagged segments, severing the head. 
Blood gushed, bits of fiber scattered. The brute's howls rebounded off the 
walls. Li was rigid, shaken from some reverie. Gwen stirred. Wong waved his 
arms; his voice became an eunuch's treble, devoid of masculine attribute. He 
flung his arms wide, toppling backward, stumbling over her ankles. She drew 
her knees up fast, bumping the bloodied stump, flinging blood gouts over her 
face, her tits, her belly and cunt. He tried to scream as he fell on his 
back. Blood choked his throat. He writhed, knees kicking, legs jerking, 
hands lunging for the stump, fingers rigid with fear, unable to grasp what 
was left. She savored all this, unmindful of the man bearing down on her. 
The brute was nearly finished. He was getting what he had given. His screams 
came through the gore that clotted in his neck. He was still feeling but, 
she was aware of the major; he was ten feet away, moving cautiously now. He 
saw the knife in her hand and wasn't close enough to knock it away with the 
branding iron. And she crouched between the major and his clothes, and 
pistols. 

She still had the knife. Captain Wong still kicked, and gagged, his eyes 
rolled, the white showed but he was still conscious. Still able to feel some 
of what he had tried to inflict on her. If she was going to die then let her 
take the brute with her. 

Like a lithe avenger she bounded on the balls of her feet and lunged for 
Wong. Falling near one arm she grasped the wrist and tightly held the blade. 
She found superhuman strength and, with a sudden shift of her weight, turned 
the brute on his side, facing the major. Eyes flashing defiance and hate she 
hurled a curse at Li before plunging the stiletto between the brute's ass 
cheeks. He yelped, retched, vomited blood, his diaphragm kicking. She turned 
the blade deep, tearing the hole, piercing the prostate. Pulling the knife, 
and part of his entrails, out, she brandished the weapon at Li. 

"Ypu have raped our people, as we shall rape you in your beds," she 
screamed, turned the brute onto his back, jammed the feces and blood crusted 
edge along the brute's throat. The blade sliced through the vomit and 
spittle, and knotted throat muscles . . . tore back and forth, sawing the 
jugular and the small bones and cartilage and veins. She jerked the blade 
free; the handle slipped. She regained the hold. But in that instant Li 
flung the iron at her. The disc struck her shoulder, burning, throwing her 
off balance. She slid back, slipped on the gouts, fell on her back, the warm 
blood splashing and entering her anus and cunt. 

Li was on her, his hands finding her throat. The thumbs bore down, slowly 
but steadily choking. Black whorls obscured her vision. The breath burned. 
Something hot was penetrating. Dimly she saw Li burying his shaft in her 
belly even as he strangled the life out of her. She had to laugh. The brute, 
the animal was still, less than a foot away, his blood everywhere, oozing 
over her, and the major. And still the major had to rape. Whatever guilt she 
might have felt, left. For brute force was the only way her people had of 
freeing themselves. As that thought registered, penetrated her 
consciousness, a cloud of peace descended, wrapped warm arms around her 
tortured, ravaged, blood spattered flesh, and gently lifted her, as a loving 
mother lifts a suffering child, and carried her away. 

TEN 

Li pummeled the girl. She was nearly dead. One last lunge to get his rocks 
off before she died. The blood was a warm blanket between him and her, 
enveloping them both, making her hot belly even hotter. 

He plunged away, stopping finally when he realized her belly was cold and 
her vagina was tightening. She felt like an ice fist on his genitals. As he 
withdrew he saw the remains beside them. In death Wong looked like a 
shrunken monkey. How could Li ever have found the man attractive? 

Li got up, slipped on red pockets of blood, congealing on the cement. The 
iron was nearby. The shaft and tip were soaked. He shook off the still wet 
pods and, at the grill, angrily flung the pole in, disc first. It hissed and 
stank but the aroma was only a distant background to the inferno in Li's 
head. 

Wong was his most trusted aide. More than an aide and better than a third 
arm. Lover and fellow planner. It was Wong's knowledge of architecture that 
resulted in this perfectly constructed community. Wong's inventive 
imagination thought up this room with these few pleasure devises. Had he 
lived Wong might have constructed even more ingenious pleasure items. Now 
Wong was dead. Without him Li was only a lack luster image of his former 
self. 

The only thing Li was capable of dreaming up was the end results: the woman, 
sufficiently cowed to give Li maximum satisfaction. But how to get her 
there? Li didn't have sufficient imagination to think it all through. 

Wong had discussed, with Li, the subordinate: Kang. According to Wong, Kang 
was a bright young man with similar interests. Wong was even going to bring 
Kang to these little parties, and would have if the war hadn't interfered. 
Maybe Kang was even more intelligent, more receptive than Wong had thought. 
As Li stirred the coals he made a mental note to broach the subject. After 
Wong's funeral, of course. 

He stirred the coals, lost in thought. He didn't hear the door open. Didn't 
see the shadow until it fell across his chest. He looked up, eyebrows 
raised. 

"Oh, Kang." He smiled, shivered as the cold air rushed in. 

Kang surveyed the blood spattered room with shock. 

"Yes, my friend. This has been some party." Major Li gave a little laugh of 
embarrassment. 

"Where. . . . " He saw the altar, and the unconscious woman. "Have you 
killed her?" he said through clenched teeth. 

"No. I don't think so. She's pretty strong. There should be plenty for you." 

Kang's head pounded. As he turned his head, to see what was there before 
him, his neck and skull ached. He felt dizzy from the blow on the head. And 
nauseated from this carnage. What was terrifying, but not surprising, was 
Li's lackadaisical attitude. The major turned to the fire at his feet, 
absentmindedly turned the pole around in the coal, scattering ash, and 
sparks that flew toward the ceiling, throwing fire bursts across the rear 
wall. 

"Untie her, Li." 

Li glanced up, sharply. He scowled-a man disturbed during a pleasant dream. 
"What is this?" 

"It's called a Magnum three-fifty-seven. But then T don't have to teach you 
weaponry." 

"Insubordination, Kang?" Major Li relinquished his hold on the iron. "And 
for what? The woman?" He smiled cunningly. "Me? Do you want me, Kang?" He 
opened both palms and extended them in a gesture of submission, covering his 
disgust in a simpering grin. "If I'm what you want, my dear Kang, then say 
so? And come to me." 

The pain in his head was sending shock-waves into his chest and guts. If 
Kang didn't get what he'd come for, and then get out quick, he'd succumb to 
the nausea and dizziness. 

"I want you, all right, butcher. I want you to untie her and help her to the 
door. Then you and I will get her out of this fortress, away from your 
friends and into the hills." 

"Where a partisan band waits?" 

"American Rangers." 

"Is that really it, Kang?" 

"That's exactly it, butcher." 

Li shook his head, grinning obscenely. "My own hand-picked officers. Picked 
by Wong. Well, it seems the dear captain wasn't infallible after all. Tell 
me, Kang, how many more deluded Wong? Just how rotten is this perfect vessel 
I've created?" 

Kang watched the enemy. Li was perfectly poised. In control. Like a panther 
about to strike, sure of himself. Kang's first impulse was to kill this 
butcher. But his orders were to capture Li, get him out of Hamhung and into 
the hills. Unless Li made an escape attempt or tried to kill Kang, the 
American agent had no recourse but to keep Li alive. Kang couldn't take the 
initiative; he couldn't shoot first. No one, beside himself, would know. But 
that was it: Kang would know. He couldn't, in good conscience, betray the 
Americans for they were the salvation of his people, of all Southeast Asia. 
Kang wouldn't betray them. But if Li made any threatening moves, then Kang 
would take him out. 

Li shrugged. "Your hand doesn't appear to be weakening; that weapon doesn't 
look like it's going to fall from your fist." 

"It isn't." 

"Then I have no choice." 

"None." 

"May I put on my clothes." 

"You may not." 

"I'm sure your control wouldn't want frozen meat." 

"As long as your tongue isn't frozen, they don't care. Now get moving." 

Gwen was dead weight. The first mile was tortuous. Kang supported her while 
Li, hands tied behind his back with the belt, marched a few feet ahead. The 
snow was falling. The wind kicked small drifts over their feet. The girl was 
dressed in her dress and shoes but it was not enough. She might still catch 
pneumonia and Kang didn't want that. She might die, so many had that it 
would be just another little death in the night. But he prayed she wouldn't. 

Kang prayed the treatment inflicted on her back there would bring her to her 
senses. If it didn't the cold air might. 

Li's drug shouldn't take too long to get out of her system, depending on how 
much she had ingested in that slaughterhouse. But what would she be like 
afterward? Would her mind be gone? 

He tightened his grip on the Magnum. Major Li was more important than Gwen, 
than the black girl he had helped them kill. 

Li stumbled, fell on his face. "Please,' 'he begged. "I can't continue." 

Kang kicked him over on his side, facing Kang. "Up." 

Spittle glazed Kang's blue lips. Hate burned, turning his face into a pale 
mask, a Halloween shell with two flames illuminating the shell. 

Li got up, stumbling once, and continued. 

They were passing through a forest. On the other side, a distance of five 
miles, was the base of the mountain. Dawn was fast approaching. In another 
hour they would see the mountain's tip. The moon passed in front of a 
cluster of clouds, picking up the glow of the snow capped peaks. 

They were so close. But with the weight of the American nurse holding him 
back, Kang wasn't sure he'd have the stamina to carry his prisoner to the 
allies. 

He had to. He wasn't going to leave her now. 

"Keep going, bastard," he shouted at Li, as the major slowed. 

Kang's voice echoed. His throat ached. 

ELEVEN 

About daybreak Gwen awoke. For a moment she didn't know where she was. She 
remembered the branding, her reaction, and what she felt then was revulsion. 
How could she have been so affected, felt such pleasure at the brutality? 

She still felt love for Li, still wanted to please him. Even so, her love 
wasn't as strong and that surprised her. 

She raised her head. Snow. Trees. A terrible cold. And there was Li, naked, 
strapped to a tree. 

What was this? More of the dream? He saw her awaken and called to her and as 
she sat up, rubbing sleep residues from her eyes, she knew this was no 
dream. 

"He has gone for help," Li babbled. "You must hurry. Free me. Hurry," he 
pleaded in a louder, firmer voice. 

She got up, aching all over. Kang's jacket had been placed beneath her and 
she shook the snow off and stumbled to the tree. "What's happened, Li?" ' 
"Never mind. Untie me." 

"Kang did this?" she mumbled, still half awake, her thoughts still cloudy. 

"He won't be gone long, long enough to bring our enemies. Your people who 
will kill you for committing treason. They aren't far away. He left us. 
thinking you would remain unconscious until his return. This is providence, 
your awakening. We must make the most of it, my love. Hurry." 

She fumbled with the bonds, her fingers numb, the tips not feeling the 
carefully, securely tied knots. He urged her on, cursing when she slowed, 
whispering love when one knot fell away. 

Finally, his hands were free. "Give me the coat." She draped it across his 
shoulders. He undid the bonds that held his ankles to the tree. 

He fell into her arms, exhausted. She held him, eased him to the snow. She 
held him close, felt the slamming of his heart. He was frozen: that brute, 
Kang, had left Li to die. She wouldn't let that happen. 

While Li protested feebly, she raised her skirt, pressed her naked warmth 
against him. And, sure enough, his prick stiffened. She parted her lips and 
guided him in. She clung to him, raising just her hips, bringing him closer, 
whipping side to side to bring him to a quick orgasm. As he lay, spent, at 
her side, she whispered her love, over and over. The words fell, without the 
force of previous couplings. Yet she still loved him. But it was like the 
lights of a car, moving away, becoming lost in a fog. 

"If you do love me," he whispered. "Then you will do what I command." 

"Yes." Hope soared. He wanted her again, was going to initiate her into the 
secret world that he controlled, teach her more of what she had to learn to 
join him on that secret summit. 

"Take off your clothes." 

"Yes," she squealed. He was going to take her, right here in the snow and it 
was going to be more exciting than that first time with Wong, and Vicki. 
With danger so close he would take her, quiet her excitement. Yes, he truly 
loved her. 

She was naked now, her buttocks stinging as the snow settled between both 
creases. She flung her arms and legs wide, to take him. He fell on her belly 
and, as she embraced him, he pressed a nerve at the base of her skull. 
Lights exploded, the world tilted crazily. She slithered off the edge. 

When Li was sure she was unconscious he quickly dressed in her clothes. 
Buttoning the jacket tight he fled through the forest. As he ran and 
slipped, he searched for cigarettes in the jacket pocket and cursed when he 
came up empty handed. 

Kang and the Americans found her, unconscious. A gurney was brought up and 
she was wrapped in a blanket and carried back toward the mountains. The 
American Ranger, six-four, two-twenty, with burnished skin and unsmiling 
blue eyes, took up the rear, with Kang. 

"Where's the bastard, Kang?" 

"I left him tied. She was unconscious. I figured she would remain out for 
the few minutes it took me to get you." 

"Obviously he didn't." 

"We could still catch him." 

"If we knew his direction." 

The snow was drifting, covering their tracks. 

"Probably back to Hamhung," Kang said. 

"Maybe. I've got a squad taking that direction." 

"I'd like to be with them when he's caught." 

"I need you here." 

"For her." 

"Yes." 

"I think she'll be all right. Just remember she was drugged, forced to do 
whatever he wanted." 

"The drug is the reason I want you close to her. I don't have a doctor; he 
was killed yesterday getting here. I don't know what this drug will do, what 
it's already done to her. You stick close to her, record her reactions and 
when she comes down, you be there, to help her. We have to know if Li 
confided in her, gave her any information that we can use." 

"Yes, sir." 

They were at the base of the mountain. A long climb, nearly straight up, but 
beyond was freedom, a chance to relax, recoup his strength. Kang looked 
forward to that. 

A day later she came out of it. She was in a tent, on a cot. A space heater 
worked. The blankets were warm. Asleep in a fold-out deck chair was a 
familiar face. 

"Kang?" 

He awoke with a start. Smiling, licking dry lips, he said: "The sleeping 
beauty awakes." 

"Half way, at least." She yawned, stretched and kicked, and turned on her 
side to face him, bracing a hand under her chin. "Where is. 

"Escaped. In your clothing." 

She let that sink in. Ambivalence knotted her. He duped her. made her 
undress, tried to kill her, deserted her. But. still, that love remained. 

"I'm so tired." 

"Of course you are," he said. "You sleep and when you awaken, and have had 
something to eat. we will talk." 

"Where are we?" 

"Safe. Considering." 

"Who are we with?" 

"The allies." 

"They know about me?" 

"They know you were captured, drugged and made to do certain things. They 
won't ever know what he forced you into. Since you didn't make any 
treasonous acts, like broadcasting for the enemy, I'm certain they won't 
question you too explicitly. They want to know if Li confided in you, gave 
up any secrets that I might not have picked up. After they question you 
about that you will be smuggled back behind the lines, to safety." 

"Oh, yes, that sounds so good." There was still a note of indecision in her 
voice. 

"You're not worried?" 

"Not worried exactly. . . . " 

"He still has you, hasn't he?" 

"I'm afraid he has." 

"The shark's teeth aren't so easily pulled; the jaws don't unlock so 
easily." 

"I guess not." 

"It will take time." 

"I guess it will." 

Kang knew it would. The only way to free her was the harsh brutal way, a 
final brutality to shake her free of the animal. Using some of Li's tricks 
Kang would awaken her, bring her back. But, for now, she needed sleep. After 
the interrogation Kang would have his chance. 

TWELVE 

The Americans were in a hurry. They gave her twenty-four hours to recover. 
Then it was non-stop interrogation, a soft sell affair, conducted by a 
Captain who was slim, middle-aged, balding and meek. He began with an 
informal rundown of her past . . . school, grades, likes, dislikes, areas of 
the country she preferred over Nebraska, her home state. She knew what was 
happening, and who the man was. 

"I took eighteen hours of college level psychology, doctor. I know why 
you're probing, what you're looking for. So I'll save some time. He fed me 
drugs in brandy, talked me into doing a number of thing I would never have 
done sober." 

"What things?" The interest was as obvious as his hard on. 

"All kind of things. Kinky things, mostly. Leather things." 

' "You derive any pleasure from these things?" 

"I've always enjoyed being educated." 

"And disciplined. Did you enjoy that?" 

"I don't know." She knew. But she wasn't going to admit it to this stranger. 

"I see. Well, possibly we'll find out." 

The questioning continued in a relaxed way, but without let up. Coffee and 
sandwiches were brought in. When the doctor finally broke the session it was 
night. 

"Will you need me for anything else?" She stood, plucking a thread from the 
dress's bodice. 

"No more questioning. Not tonight." He took her hand. 

She didn't pull away. "We should do something tonight. To celebrate my first 
night of freedom." She said it simply, in a straight forward way. It came 
out sounding like an invitation. Which the officer accepted. 

As she accepted the paper cup of brandy she didn't think about Kang. Not 
until she and the doctor began talking. 

"That young man that rescued you is brave. Do you realize what he went 
through rescuing you?" 

"Yes, I know." 

"How do you feel about him?" 

"Is this for my file, or your personal information?" 

"My mind's already made up. What I need is more information to substantiate 
my decision." 

"You talk like a textbook, honey. Is that how you fuck? By the book?" 

The question shocked her as much as it mildly surprised him. 

"Sorry about that," she murmured, taking a sip of brandy. In a paper cup it 
tasted bland, artificial. 

"It's been a long time since you've taken the initiative with men." 

"Yes. But how did you know that?" 

"Through Kang. Through past information. He hasn't said anything to us about 
what Li did to you. Of course, from what we already know, we can guess what 
he forced you to do." 

"Listen, doc, don't let an over eager imagination brand the scarlet letter 
on my tit." She threw the empty cup across the tent. It sailed, then 
dropped, before it reached the seated man. 

"I'm not over eager about anything. Except. . . . " He let it hang there 
like exhaled smoke in a stuffy room. 

"Okay, doctor. Do I fill in the missing words in twenty-five or less. Or do 
you tell me what gets your motor running? 

"You do. That simple." He finished his drink. "But I won't push. If you're 
interested, feel up to some company. . . . " He gave an open kind of shrug. 
"This tent is warmer, closer to the crapper." 

"That's something," she sniffed. "Where's all the romance gone to?" she 
asked a darkened corner. 

"Is that what you crave? Romance." 

"Romance is an umbrella that covers a lot of ground." 

"What do you mean?" 

"My definition of romance might differ from yours. Like. . . . " She kicked 
her chair back, quickly undid the buttons of her dress. Shrug-ing the 
garment off, she reached around and unsnapped the bra. The huge solid 
breasts sighed as the tight garment fell, freeing the big tits. Goosebumps 
exploded and, as the doctor sucked in his breath, the nipple flicked out, 
the aureoles blushed deeply. "See, doc," she said, walking slowly toward 
him, "this is my kind of romance. Getting your saliva flowing kinda turns me 
on, too. I like making the moves. Not making them was the only thing I 
missed about the last couple of days. I also missed my country, too," she 
added quickly. She stopped at his feet. He didn't move. His cock rose 
shamelessly. He didn't try to cover the erection. "Getting a nice old guy 
like yourself all interested makes me feel good. Also, giving you something 
you might be missing makes the selfless desire that got me into nursing come 
alive again. You know, locked up in Hamhung was not the most stimulating 
couple of days I ever spent." 

"Is that right?" 

"Sure, hon." She came around beside him. She wondered, as she stroked his 
bald spot with the tip of her index finger, if he was believing any of this. 
She had to make him believe. If he didn't she'd be shipped home and probably 
made to spend time with more interrogators. Her plans didn't include going 
home just yet. Not while Li was still twisting in her guts, getting that 
damn little thing all steamy. 

He turned to take one of her breasts. She pushed him away. 

"No, hon, not just yet. Let me make the moves. Okay?" she chirped. He didn't 
answer; he was busy swallowing the brandy and homesick induced lust. "All 
you have to do, doc, is lean back and let me take you on. Might be fun if 
you don't let that old male ego-crap take over. T never could understand why 
the hell you men always insisted on leading." She was talking rapidly, 
unzipping his fly and unbuckling his belt at the same time. She was using 
the doctor, auditioning the act, so to speak. One run-through and then she 
played the Palace . . . the Hamhung Palace. "My, my," she breathed as she 
got his pants down around his ankles, and her hand under the elastic of his 
jockey shorts. "Nice flat hard stomach . . . mmmm . . . lots of hair. I bet 
that isn't all that you got a lot of." He wasn't saying anything. He held 
back the tremors, the sobs. Christ, it had been a long time since he'd had 
an American piece, and a white one at that. She slid both hands, flat, under 
the elastic and eased the pants down, rubbing the hipbones, stroking below 
the belly with her thumbs. The doc was quivering and breathing hard, and 
that wasn't all that was hard. That long thin snake slithered, stiffened and 
stood up proud. The sunburst at the tip gave off enough heat to light a 
cigarette by. Too bad, she thought. It would've been nicer if she'd been 
able to play him along, see how far she could work him before he blew off. 
Now, the way he was twisting, sobbing, she'd have to get his gun. Only one 
way to do that and that was to pull the trigger. "Momma loves lollipops," 
she cooed, on her knees between his legs, her breasts hanging down, the 
nipples scraping the hard ground. She dropped her mouth on the shaft, 
holding him by the lips, while she tongue-lashed the tip. He was going wild, 
nearly knocking her off balance. And he was faster than a horny rabbit at a 
doe convention. The force of the blast hit her so hard at the back of the 
throat she lost her breath. Her hot pumping breath polished him off. As he 
went soft, and she let what was left slip between her lips, she tried to 
figure how long it had taken Li to blow off. For she had to have him again, 
even if this was the last time for them. One last orgy before the allies got 
him. She even considered staying with him even after the allied invasion. 
"Who were you thinking of?" He pulled up his pants. The few hairs on his 
legs stood out, covering some of the goose bumps. 

"You, of course." She picked up her bra, considered putting it on, then 
figuring the hell with it. 

"Me, of course not. Now tell me." 

"Another order from the front." She looked around for the bottle. "Okay. I 
was thinking of some guy I used to shack up with. Back home. Hurt?" 

"No." He poured a drink and handed her the bottle. 

"Thanks." She filled a fresh cup and set the bottle by her foot. 

He waited for her to finish, and he thought: Li had done a thorough job on 
her; she still loved him. Obviously it wasn't some boy back home that she 
was thinking about. According to a quick check via the computer in 
Washington, she'd always been a loner, a one night stand. There never were 
any shack jobs back home. The only shacking was with Li. He wondered if Li 
had known about her, too, somehow. Or if his finding her was a lucky break. 
Lucky for them they'd found her before I this dedicated kid got twisted into 
a robot. Another couple of months and she would've been Li's walking time 
bomb. 

"Well, dad, thanks for the drink." The empty, crumpled cup fell to the 
floor, pinged off the side of the brandy bottle. 

"The invitation stands." 

"My bed's okay. And I never use the John at night. So good night." She 
exited, leaving the captain with his assessments. How close was she to 
kickingLi? How much longer was it going to take to get that damn drug out of 
her system? How many POW's had been fed that same drug, had their thinking 
twisted, been turned into willing pawns? The possibilities were frightening. 
How long would it take? What action would be needed to shock her back to 
sanity? 

Young Kang was the closest to the Li camp. He might have some ideas. 

The doctor quickly finished the drink and took bottle and glasses outside, 
down the row of tents to an end tent, dark now. Kang's tent. 

She was dreaming of that leering, big stick . . . Li. He beckoned but she 
didn't know where he was, couldn't pierce the mists that surrounded him, 
exposing only his face and groin. She reached, stumbled, fell . . . down 
through a dark abyss to a stone altar. On the altar was something red, 
moving. 

It was slimy, it reeked obscenely, it wiggled obscenely like some kind of 
beckoning seducing demon. As she fell, faster, she saw what it was . . . it 
was herself, horribly twisted, gutted, yet still alive, still feeling 
passion, trying to seduce anything that dropped into her trap. 

She awoke, screaming. Screaming into a sweating palm. More hands tore at her 
body. The blankets were thrown aside, she was lifted, struggling, out of the 
tent. The cold stung her naked flesh. This was part of the nightmare. It had 
to be. The smell of the bodies surrounding her, bitter, masculine robust; 
the cloudy night: the dark black shadows that bore her off the makeshift 
road, down an embankment, through tightly clustered trees, the snow 
crunching beneath them, and onto a broad ledge that was suspended over a 
dizzying drop, to more snow and trees. She caught a glimpse of the view 
before she was taken into a cave. Lanterns lit a path through the narrow 
opening and into a wider rough stone cavern. Four lanterns gave off dim 
light, not enough to cover the entire room, only enough to show six hooded 
figures, and what appeared to be four evenly spaced iron spikes. The spikes 
were placed two top and two bottom, six feet top to bottom, in the corner 
wall. Dangling from each spike was a two inch length of chain and attached 
to that, heavy iron cuffs. She was dragged to the wall, turned so she faced 
the cave entrance, and shoved against the wall, the sharp stones gouging her 
back. One jagged edge wedged between her cheeks. She tightened up, 
automatically moving back, taking the edge into her anus, wiggling her 
pelvis, rubbing the sharpness against the sensitive opening. That old thrill 
again, she thought, even as the lights dimmed and frightening shadows 
enveloped her. With Li she had been secure somehow, warm in his love. These 
hooded figures were cold like the cave and these stones; they didn't react 
to her shivering ripe body. They stood there, on either side of her, arms 
folded, breathing evenly, not speaking. They were impassive, not impressed. 
It was as though her body was but a small part of some larger tableau . . . 
a tableau that she would be an integral part of. Something she was afraid to 
consider. She wanted Li now, to protect her, make love to her, keep these 
demons from harming her. 

A cold wind rose, stirring the hoods, rattling the chains. Heavy breathing 
and heavy footfalls approached. A shadow covered the entrance. The demons 
moved aside. A large, shaggy "something" was coming into the cave, coming 
toward her. It moved purposefully, yet slowly. Like it had all the time in 
the world. She found herself dragging on the chains, whimpering. 

What was it? Why was she being held here? 

She would never see Li again; she knew that now. That thought swelled and 
she yanked on her bonds, bleating pitifully. 

The shaggy haired being was close now and a lantern was turned up. It was a 
man, young possibly, with a great mane of yellowish brown hair that covered 
his broad shoulders with knotted foul curls. A thick beard streamed to his 
rib cage. What was visible was his cheekbones, which were high and 
knife-slashed, and his eyes. They glimmered. Slitted. Timber wolf's eyes, 
shinning yellow with tiny black irises. He was naked and his arms and legs 
were matted. He was more animal than man, a slavering, giggling animal. The 
erection was stumpy, covered with sores that oozed puss. The stench made her 
gag. 

He reached, to touch a breast. His fingers were long nailed, dirt crusted. 
He closed a fist on the supple muscle, the nails pinched the tip. She 
screamed not from pain but from fear. He roared, eyes wide, spit flailing 
her face, broken yellowed teeth bared. He pulled her breasts, slapped her 
belly and thighs reached behind her to test her buttocks, roaring his 
pleasure as he balanced each muscle. It was then that she knew what he 
wanted: not to screw her, to eat her. 

A fire erupted in the middle of the cavern, the smoke escaped through a 
ceiling aperture. A single iron bar, supported by wheels at either end, was 
dragged into the center of the room and placed over the fire, to warm. 

She wailed as this evil thing forced her legs apart. The stone turned in her 
rear. The pain kept her from fainting. He had a stone wedge, sharp along one 
edge. A knife. And he was rubbing that edge along one of her thighs. He 
grabbed a fistful of pubic hair, pulled and the love slick dribbled. The 
odor heightened his excitement. He started to shave the hair, stopped, threw 
the knife aside, kneed her legs wider and thrust himself up and into her 
cunt. 

It burned. Oh, Jesus, how it burned. Deeper up into her belly and he kept 
drilling, making her dizzy. The rock at her rear gouged, as penetrating as 
the frontal assault. 

He flattened himself against her. She smelled his stink, tasted his hair, 
retched, her belly and breasts heaving, as he ejaculated and even the come 
had a foulness, like the stench of a rotting forest. He pulled back, 
swinging his arms, yelling some obscene curse, flinging spit. 

The iron was glowing, red and white edged. They came for her, holding her 
tightly as they undid the chains. They dragged her, screaming, to the fire. 
The heat singed her knees and pubic bush. Li was forever gone. She would 
never see him again. Then, she became faint. What she was thinking 
overwhelmed her, diminishing slightly the fear. As the truth surged she 
retched, vomited, passed out. 

She came awake, a little at a time, expecting agony, feeling only a mild 
warmth. She opened her eyes. She was back in her tent. Kang and the doctor 
stood over her, concerned. 

"The only difference between Li and us," the doctor was saying to her, "is 
this: we know what our drugs will do." 

She must have been awake for a short while, listening to their conversation, 
without comprehending what had been said. "I don't understand." Her throat 
was dry; her lips cracked. 

"What you just suffered through was induced by a drug, and by coaching." 

"You mean I wasn't . . . " 

"You were right here in your bed." 

She was numb. "Why, for crissake?" 

"Shock." 

"It did." 

"Did it push you through this . . . for want of a better word: this spell 
that Li has you under?" 

"It should. One big push to shock you back to reality." 

Kang turned as the doctor spoke, and left the tent. 

Gwen lay back. She remembered her last thought before fainting. It came 
back, full force, and she leaned over the side of the cot, and vomited. The 
doctor made no attempt to help her. He waited until she was finished. 

He started talking but she wasn't listening and pretty soon he got up and 
went out into the night. She was alone again. Alone with that realization. 
It glowed like an inferno, consuming her with rage. 

Li had used her, worse than a man uses a whore. When she felt love he felt . 
. . how could she know. Hate, most likely. And it wasn't that he had shown 
her a new terrible way, a new world almost. That part was fine. The kicks 
had never been greater. She owed him thanks for that. 

What turned the blade in her belly was that Li had used her just like the 
others had used her, all the boys and men she'd ever known, trusted, loved. 
Li had drugged her, tricked her into thinking he loved her. And, of course, 
all he'd loved was her resiliency, her ability to take punishment. And if 
she survived she'd make a great tool, either for propaganda purpose or as an 
agent. 

The betrayal was terrible, ugly. The defeat left her numb, made her sick to 
her stomach again. 

She got up to wash her face in the portable basin. She got a good look at 
herself in the small mirror. Her eyes were swollen, puffy around the edges. 
Her face was pale. Her hair fell haphazardly across her forehead. 

She looked like she felt. She tried for a smile but it wouldn't come. She 
got back in bed, prayed for sleep. That wouldn't come, either. 

She lay for a half hour. Kang came back. 

"Want company?" 

"I guess," she whispered. 

He climbed in and took her in his arms. They lay like that, loose, not 
sexing. Toward dawn he moved on top, eased into her and took her gently. She 
lay, passive, not responding. When he was done she pushed him away. 

"Gwen, we have a deal for you," he said before he pulled back the tent flap, 
letting in the sunlight. 

THIRTEEN 

The deal cooked like shit in the sun, and smelled as bad. After they had 
laid it out for her she had been noncommittal. First chance she got she got 
out of there. 

Kang had used her, too. Pushing steadily down the slope, to the forest 
below, she reprimanded herself for ever letting his betrayal bother her. 
After all, Kang was a man and what was worse, he was a man dedicated to an 
ideological cause. If he had been as dedicated about sexing, especially the 
kind of belly bouncing she'd grown accustomed to, she wouldn't have minded 
the political idealism. But he was just so-so in the sack; that is, he knew 
the moves but he executed them without dedication. 

Strong on the soapbox, weak in the bedroom. She'd heard that about most 
fanatics, politicians. The two were synonymous. 

If Kang had been better in the sack she might've stayed; done what they had 
wanted. 

The deal was: get back in Li's bed and while he was asleep spring the latch 
on the door, and maybe play games with the sole midnight to dawn guard. They 
would do the rest. 

The deal smelled. To be used again sickened her. The way men were, the men 
she knew and had known, that is, was a sin against nature. Using their force 
to force a woman down on her knees. And they all enjoyed doing it; it made 
them feel like men. 

Shit, but she was disgusted with them all. Even Li. But she would return to 
Li, for he was the only man with the strength to make her dance. Even if it 
was forcing, she still loved doing it. Somehow, with him, the degradation 
wasn't as intense. Even as she thought of him, of being near him again, the 
juices began to flow. Her pace increased. Her footing was more secure as she 
plunged down to the mountain's base, and entered the forest. 

It was dark when she reached Hamhung. The sentry stopped her, recognized her 
and took her to Li. He was in bed, his pajamas and robe buttoned and belted 
to his throat. He was coughing when she entered the bedroom. Seeing her made 
him cough harder, great racking spasms that left him sweating and red faced. 

"A gift from your friend, Kang," he gasped between spasms. 

"He's not my friend. Not that he didn't want to be." Timidly, she approached 
the bed, a step at a time, measuring his reactions. 

He seemed preoccupied with his health. But when she reached the foot of the 
bed he stopped her with a scowl. "That's as far as you come." 

"I'm here. May I explain?" She sat. 

"I know it all." He blew his nose. 

"Do you know that I was unconscious when Kang dragged me out of that room?" 

"I was there." 

"Then you know how willing I was. Then know this, too: as soon as I could I 
got the hell out of there." 

"So I see." 

"I wish you'd feel . . . " 

"What?" 

"What I feel for you." 

She said it with such feeling, such melodrama, that he laughed, then 
succumbed to another round of coughing. 

"Here. I brought you a gift, a peace offering." She handed him the bottle. 
"Not as good as your stuff but it's suitable." 

He uncorked it. "Suitable for what? Toasting the corpse at a funeral?" He 
continued to scowl at the label. 

"It's okay stuff." She found two glasses on the night stand. "Okay?" She 
poured two shots for each. 

He took the glass without answering. They had their drink, in silence. 

"Not too bad," he said, setting his emptily glass on the table. Folding his 
hands on his lap, he said: "Why come back?" 

"You." 

"You've already said that." 

She saw the pride of accomplishment. He must be thinking: the drug has 
worked. She is my slave for life. 

"And you're the best game in town, just so you won't think you're all that 
top grade stuff." 

He smiled, wiped his nose. "So, you've come back." He reached for her hand. 

"To be with you. I want you more than family or country." She was 
shuddering. 

He was shaking, too. "You were the best. I hope what we had hasn't died." 

"Only one way to find out." She was on her feet, stripping. 

He threw back the covers, unbelted the robe, unbuttoned the pajamas. They 
were naked, both primed. 

"I've never been this excited so quick." 

She ran to him, fell beside him. "The brandy. And being separated for so 
damn long. I feel it too." She rubbed her pudenda against his leg. "Can't 
you feel my need? Can't you feel it?" Spasms echoed and re-echoed. The damn 
brandy was stronger than she had thought. He was pinching, slapping her 
buttocks. As hard as he might screw her till she bled to death. If he was 
half as hot as she was. 

He turned her over on her face, mounted her legs. He rubbed his cock on a 
buttock. The softness and body heat brought him off. He directed the stream 
into her anus. She whimpered, shuddered as the deposit exploded deep in her 
hole. Sufficiently lubricated, he fell on her back, stuffing his stick down 
that tightly packed tunnel of muscle. He was all the way in, jerking left 
then right, grunting, wheezing as the come spurted. 

"Ah, wonderful," she gasped, flushed and sweating. 

He rolled off and she parted her labia and began patting her clitoris. While 
she did this she got off the bed and, still stroking, went to the closet. 
She found a belt, tossed it to him. 

"Use this, baby," she crooned, hurrying back to bed. 

She was beside him and he got up on his knees and swung the belt. It fell 
without much impact. 

"No good." He stood by the bed. "Turn around." She shifted so her ankles 
hung over the mattress. "Much better." 

She was still plucking and crushing her clitoris when the first blow struck. 
Reverberations went through her shoulders. She kept plucking as the second 
blow fell. It was getting better and better. The plucking. And the beating. 

A third blow. And a fourth. And the ecstasy was increasing. She was coming, 
one right after the other in an unbroken stream. If only his kicks were this 
good. She heard grunts, and muted popping sounds He was getting it off, too. 
Just as fast as she was. 

Two finely tuned souls, tuned to each other's life rhythms, she thought 
sadly. 

A fifth blow and he seemed to be doing it harder, if that were possible. He 
spaced the blows so as not to overuse one area. Red splotchy welts appeared. 
Then he flipped the belt, caught it, end first, the buckle pointed at her. 
Without warning he rained blow after blow. Her buttocks quivered. The 
pleasure bit deep, through her anus, through her vagina. Heat spread across 
her back muscles. The massage was driving her wild. She jerked her clit but 
her fingers were slimy; she couldn't maintain her grip. She spread wider, 
pulled the labia back with her index fingers and, once the clitoris was 
exposed, she slammed her hips down, beating the swollen gland on the hard 
mattress. As she came up he snapped the buckle across her rump. They kept it 
up until neither one was able to take it any longer. 

He collapsed beside her. "My dear lover," and he brushed a hand across the 
welted flesh. 

"I love you, too," she murmured, dreamy, exhausted, lost. 

"Will you stay with me, allow me to take care of you, teach you our 
philosophies?" 

"I'll stay for the sex, not the fireside chats." 

"You're not political." 

"Only passionate." On her side she reached for him and was astounded that he 
was hard again. "Good brandy will do it every time." She bent and her hair 
spilled over his thighs and belly. 

"Yes, it must be that. Something." He circled her head with his legs, 
holding her tightly. 

They rocked back and forth; he whimpered, she grunted. Her lips and teeth 
slid from the cockhead, down the shaft. As she took the entire muscle she 
choked on the strength. Patting his balls, lightly stroking the scrotum, 
using just enough fingertip pressure, she thought of him and it was like 
holding onto a prized dream even when you knew you were waking up. 

She lifted his hips, worked a hand under him and parted his cheeks. With a 
finger she entered him, wiggling that finger all the way to the asshole. He 
loved it, tightened his grip on her head, rocked faster. One final lunge 
into the hole, one last pull of the shaft, and he erupted. 

"Well, now, wasn't that lots of kicks?" She was flushed, sweating. Her eyes 
were wide, steamy. Her hair spilled over the temples. "Like some more?" 

"More with the belt?" 

"Not just yet." She winked. "I have to recover first. Then back at it." 

"What do we do till then?" 

"Remember the dry towel massage?" 

He tilted his head, wrinkling the forehead, remembering. "Ah, yes," he 
breathed as it all returned. 

She lifted the burgeoning cock. "I can see you remember. I can feel it, 
too." 

"Yes, I'd like that." The cock got bigger. 

The brandy, she mused. It got her heated up, too. Lust covers everything, 
she thought. Blots out all horrors leaving only that little thing between 
your legs . . . that little thing that all your thoughts are centered on. 
More sex, less wars. That'd make a catchy slogan. 

"Be right back, sex tiger." She scooted off the bed, jizz dripping down her 
thigh, spotting the carpet. 

When she came back, he smiled, moistened his lips and turned over on his 
back. She slowed as she passed her clothing, then continued on to the bed. 
"I really love you, Li," she breathed, her warmth making him sweat. 

"And I love you." 

If she could only believe that. I would make the years ahead more tolerable. 

"Are you ready, dear Li?" She braced herself on her knees, over him. 

"Yes," he called through the pillow. 

"Then relax." She slapped his buttocks. 

He relaxed. "Is that good enough?" 

"Better than I expected," she replied, thinking of something else. 

Something, he didn't know what, made him turn his head. Possibly it was the 
tone of voice, or the way her voice trembled . . . with fear, not passion. 

He twisted his neck to better see her. But all he saw was her face, 
contorted with something that wasn't lust. 

"I love you," she bellowed. Her arm jerked, jammed forward, low. 

Li felt the cold penetrate. He tried to move but the solid wedge held him 
down, blocked his anus, kept him from closing his legs. All this registered 
but didn't penetrate his brandy-drugged brain. This was going to happen to 
someone else, not to him, not to the redoubtable Major Li. 

She held the weapon steady as Kang had instructed. The weapon was a woman's 
pistol, small caliber. Big enough for what she was about to do, to free 
herself of all men, all exploiters. 

Biting her tongue as Kang had advised, she pulled the trigger. The explosion 
was muffled. Gore spattered, a foul damp odor rose immediately. The 
expression on Li's face changed from bewilderment to fright to astonishment. 
Then his eyes rolled back, his mouth jerked crookedly, and a gasp and a moan 
escaped and, limbs jerking, he flattened against the bloody mattress. 

She sat in the midst of his entrails, not moving, the gun still in her hand, 
still imbedded in him. When the odor and the wetness became too much to 
stand she got up and went into the bathroom. Automatically she showered, 
dried and returned to her clothes. The mattress was soaked. The stink was 
strong. The nearby walls were splattered with large brownish red gouts. 

She went to the bed for a last look. His face, except for the wide, wild 
eyes, was peaceful. She closed his eyes, turned to go, turned back and bent 
and quickly kissed the warm, wet forehead. She pulled the blanket over him 
and walked out. 

The night was chilly. The wind came up, spreading the sweat across her face 
as she walked into the gust. Cold hair was what she needed to dissipate the 
drug put in the brandy to make him aroused. It had done the same for her, 
exciting her so she didn't dwell on what had to be done, was already done. 
Now that it was done she wanted to think about it, had to think about it or 
lose her sanity. 

What she had done was break with the past, and the present. Li turned her 
from the past, showed her another wonderful and wild world. The present was 
Li. To be able to survive she had to cut the cord. He was dead anyway before 
she entered the bedroom. Tomorrow, or the next day at the latest, the allied 
planes would find Hamhung, the Tiny Tim rockets, those ancient World War Two 
death devices, would level this utopia. Or, worse, they would send in the 
foot soldiers and take Li alive and parade him around, and subject him to 
endless interrogations and, finally, lock him up in some cold coffin sized 
cell. He would die there a day at a time. 

This was the only way. Quick. With a minimum of pain. As peaceful as he 
looked, it wasn't all pain. That force striking his prostate set off a 
massive orgasm, the kind of climax only the sexually insane feel. Li was not 
insane. Imprisoned, he would've gone crazy. 

She did the right thing. She repeated that as she darted along the quiet 
square, to the town entrance, where the guard was posted. They nodded, he 
leered, trying to get her interest but having failed at that, he shrugged 
and continued walking his post. 

Kang waited two city blocks away, in the shadows. She saw him as she passed 
the stone thrill room. Hands in pockets, he lounged in front of a tree. The 
hands came out and he lunged away from the tree when he saw her. 

"How did it go?" He took her hand and was shocked not to find tremors. 

"It went." 

"Our way would've been less . . . messy, less dangerous." 

"It still would've been your way, regardless. My way did it fast, 
painlessly." 

"A merciful death is usually reserved for those deserving one." 

"He led a miserable life. He was entitled to a better death." 

"His life was what he made of it. He liked his work too well." 

"The cord's been cut. I'm free. I don't want to talk about it." 

Kang was already thinking about the commie radio reports in the morning. The 
reports of Li's strange, awful death. He also thought of his return to the 
village, to assume the role of dedicated soldier. His mind was on this and 
he didn't hear what she said. He asked her to repeat, and she did. 

They went down into a ditch, climbed back up on the other side of the road 
and continued on into the forest. The sky was overcast and there was a smell 
of moisture which drifted through the trees, carrying the forest's perfume 
to them. 

He took her by the arm, held on, to stop her. "Please." 

"Why, Kang?" 

"Because . . . " The words would betray him, make him vulnerable. With the 
heart exposed, a soldier was fair game for the enemy. A patriot had to be 
single-minded. If he allowed outside influences (and that was what she had 
to be if he was to shake her from his thoughts) to govern him, his 
vulnerability would lead to carelessness and eventual capture. He was not 
like her. He could only stand so much pain. If he broke under questioning 
the entire guerilla front would be betrayed. If that happened he would be 
condemned even if he escaped and survived. The guilt would haunt him, chase 
him down, find him and destroy him. He couldn't let her do this to him. 

They stood, staring at each other. He .looked so warm, then cold, she 
thought. She must have showed the same impassivity for he let go of her 
hand, gestured at the path ahead. 

They went on a few more feet before he again stopped. 

"We'll be back at base camp before dawn. Another couple of hours. We have 
time." 

"For a farewell?" Her voice was surprisingly breathy, passion-heavy. The 
passion bubbled down below. What was this? Aftershock? A way of burying Li 
forever? "Come on." She smoothed a place on the ground, clearing the few 
clumps of snow, and the pine needles. The earth was cold, solid, smooth. She 
hiked up her skirt, threw open the coat and tore the buttons on the shirt 
front. "Now fuck me fast, hard. Now." She clenched, unclenched her fists as 
he stripped his pants and shorts down to his ankles. The moon turned the 
shaft pale, the head black. She raised her tits to his mouth. "Bite them," 
she rasped. "Hurt me so we can say good-bye." 

His cock branded her puss. He bore down, wheezing and sweating, using his 
leg muscles and hips to pile drive the yielding depths. She turned her head, 
stared unblinking at the shadows of the forest rising around them. The wind 
kicked up; her eyes teared but she didn't blink. 

He jammed deeply, tearing her up. She came when he mounted her and she 
counted the orgasms since. She was a fucking fool. No mistake there. All it 
took was a man, and a little force; nothing elaborate. She could get it off 
anywhere, anytime, with any man, in any setting. All it took was force. 

The trees were swaying as the wind slapped, and Kang slammed harder. He 
flailed her, beating out his frustration, inflicting punishment for having 
been around when he was most vulnerable, open, susceptible. 

She took his punishment, taking comfort from his rage. The smell of his 
anger obliterated the sweet, heavy aromas of the trees and ground. This was 
going to be good, a fitting farewell to Korea. She raised her lips and 
wrenched her pelvis, undulating her belly, matching his rhythm. The tits 
bounced and she lifted them, fed them to him. He crushed them in his hands, 
squeezing the sensitive tips, thrusting deeper, following her lead now. 

They locked loins. She held the shaft to her clitoris. The orgasms exploded. 
He held back, waiting for her to blow it all off. And she did, too many 
times to count. Then he plunged ahead, holding the rhythm in short, jagged, 
jarring bursts. 

The speed picked up; they both controlled it now. They both hit their climax 
at the same time. For her it was a short burst. For him it was powerful 
enough to tingle his prostate, leave him limp, gasping, sweat blinded. 

He rolled off and, for a few seconds, didn't move. She turned away, not 
wanting to see him now that she was finished. She buttoned the few remaining 
buttons, then zipped the Army issue jacket. Even after all this she was 
still excited by the feel of the jacket on her nipples. She smiled. 

If she could get worked up over a damn jacket, then anything else she might 
get would drive her bananas. That was something to think about. The future. 
Away from the cold, bleak world of Korea. Back to civilized life. Central 
heating. Carpets on the floor. Men that smelled of cologne. Long hot baths 
in bubble-salts. 

And for the sex . . . well, she knew which direction she was headed. Li had 
fixed that. All she had to do was follow. Find others like her that would 
make good companions, fine bed partners. 

All that, the good life, was close. A one way jet home and she would have 
it. All of it. For as long as she survived. And she would survive. 

The sweet side of life was close. Just reach out. 

It was there. 

And that's what Gwen did. She returned to America, worked her way from New 
York to L.A., finally settling in San Diego where she went to work for a 
clinic in La Jolla. The work was enjoyable, stimulating, and the doctor was 
simpatico. 

The warm Southern California nights provided background for long walks on 
the beach, and parties and candlelight suppers at beachfront cottages. 

She was happy. But every so often, when she was in a crowd, or dining alone 
in a restaurant a man would catch her eye. The man would resemble Li and 
when he would raise his glass in a gesture of friendliness she would 
respond. The sex would be good but, later, there would be an empty spot. A 
disappointment. And she knew then that Li would always be with her. A shadow 
that would rise on a sunny day, blotting out the warmth. And she would feel 
the loneliness, the emptiness that would always be with her, in the 
background, behind the pleasure facade. 


THE END
