'Retribution', Segment V

New York (the present)

“Shall we begin, qiufan? Perhaps the left leg.”

“If it pleases you, shou ren zunjing kuxing zhe.” 

The torture begins. I grab another length of bamboo, pushing such into the rope encircling the thigh and foot. I slowly twist... ever so slowly. In tightening the tether the ligaments at the knee stretch, the bamboo tucked behind the joint bringing leverage.

It is simple, there is little effort on my part. I can twist and tighten with one finger of my hand. But it brings such excruciating pain. My qiufan beings to sing. A howl.

Gone are the days when she would beg me to stop. My qiufan learned the futility of that. Instead she knows I want to hear her cries of agony. She accommodates.

I stop, letting the pain signals rush to the cerebral cortex. I look over to my client. Yes, there is misogyny. He squirms in his chair, his growing erection trapped by his slacks and underwear. In a way, he suffers as well.  

“I would not consider it indecorous if your girl chooses to please you,” I call out. “My qiufan and I will be moving to another place,” politely suggesting if my client wants to be sucked off while I work it is of little concern to me.

And yes, torturer and tortured do enter another world with the intensity of the exchange. While I work a girl there could be an earthquake and I would not notice... as with my qiufan. In countering the agony endorphins flow... and oxytocin... the body attempting to counter the pain signals. And that is why deliberation is needed. The hormones flow, masking the agony... therefore a good kuxing zhe patiently waits and then increases the level of pain.

It becomes a contest... assuring the suffering does not diminish... instead slowly growing.

I return my attention, ever so slightly twisting, tightening the encircling binding, stretching the ligaments at the knee. There comes more music... another howl.

Peripherally I note shifting in the dark corner where sits my client. The leash tightens, the boy... girl... shuffles about, head and shoulders pressed between my client’s knees.

I smile to myself, thinking of my qiufan introducing herself by humbly asking to suck my client’s penis. It appears his yinjing is well cared for and that my qiufan’s gender is not appropriate for the task.

Leaving in place the adjusting bamboo and the rope tightened I step to my qiufan’s front, tenderly grazing my hands over her bald head, wiping away tears. Then I go to the breasts, cupping glands of size then diddling the nipples to bring joy and more oxytocin. This is devious, my fingers cause the hormones to increase which temporarily counters the pain. Until of course I resume, with more twists and more tightness to in turn overcome the brief relief. This torturing becomes a contest... which I as kuxing zhe always win... the prize being her song.   

“Have you missed me? It’s been a few months. Does your benefactor torture you?”

“Yes, my shou ren zunjing kuxing zhe, I have missed your devotion... your attention to my needs. Dav... ah... my benefactor... torments me in different ways.”

“I see. That is why he sent you to me. You need to feel pain... physical pain... your masochism assuaged. He is a good benefactor. Do you take care of his yinjing?”

“He... well... not as I would like, kuxing zhe.”

“Of course not. You will please it as he wishes. And how is that?”

“I clean it for him. After...”

“After what?”

“He... has a girl... and... “

“So you clean him after sex. And the girl?”

“I clean her as well, kuxing zhe.”

“Yes, keeps you humble... no pride in that. So my training in Guangdong Penitentiary is put to good use.” 

“Yes, kuxing zhe. Thank you for training me.”

The sincere thanks brings me to smile. For two years this kuxing zhe and qiufan were inseparable, eating together, sleeping together, enjoying torture together. I am missed. And in a way I miss her.  

I glance to my client. During our exchange his companion has disrobed. The mystery of his/her gender to be solved. In seeing the head bobbing between my client’s thighs, such brings my thoughts back to the exposition of torture which my client has commissioned. I must resume.

“An arm next, qiufan? You need to suffer more.”

“If you would like shou ren zunjing kuxing zhe.”

“Yes I would. It is best for you. Left or right?”  

“I don’t know, kuxing zhe.”

“I suppose it matters not. Both will be stretched and tormented before day’s end. And my nose suggests your cunt ripens. Quite fragrant. Therefore you must be quite wet.”

With that I step back between the wide spread thighs, my hand going to her yawning vaginal opening. Two fingers slip within her portal with notable ease. Torture... my torture... has come to arouse. I am pleased.

“You’re sopping wet, qiufan. I think being watched while naked, bound and singing adds to your arousal.” 

Fingers toying, bringing more oxytocin, I glance behind, my client is being well serviced, the head of his companion bobbing briskly at the crotch. I note that just as my qiufan has been trained to always present herself with feet parted, thighs well spread, the naked companion so poses. A flaccid penis swings about between the thighs. Though long, it is boyishly thin. And there is nothing else to confirm his gender. The rumor concerning a transforming visit to Mexico is true. And such jives. As a misogynist my client would not deign to let a woman please him.  

I withdraw. The arms need attention. Another stick of bamboo, more slow twisting. I decide on the left first. I return to my contest. There are comforting hormones to be addressed, more music to be heard.