'Retribution', Segment XII

This is the last segment to be posted. The full story has been published on Lulu.

Enjoy,

CB 

*****

Guangdong Penitentiary (two years past)

“You’ll need to acclimate. Just sit up. Let your circulation settle.”

The kuxing zhe releases the thumb rings. Other than brief interludes to cleanse and massage, inhibiting bedsores, qiufan Marcia Clark has not been released from the death bed in three weeks. She requires help. A few moments to stabilize, circulation pulsating, next the toe rings are released, the kuxing zhe pushing and prodding the qiufan’s nakedness such that she turns, remaining sitting upright, bare feet to the concrete floor of the cell.  

“To the torture chamber... the xingxun shi... shou ren zunjing kuxing zhe?” Marcia humbly inquires.

“If you’d like. I must walk you, hands to your head... unless a guard wants to see you smile.”

Yes the qiufan has broken... bonding with her torturer. She is somewhat in a quandary, not outright requesting a visit. But she certainly is not refusing. Pain... she must have it... it is her narcotic.

The qiufan feebly rises to her feet. Unsteady, she needs more moments to find her balance. Her kuxing zhe waits. There is no rush. She is not to stumble. A healthy qiufan is needed in order to maximum the torture.

Finally her hands obediently go to the back of her head. The kuxing zhe grasps her right breast, firmly but gently, a symbol of her control.

“Come. There is much to show you... so many ways to torture you. And you’ll please me. You want to please me. The torture chamber is private.”   

The qiufan is not to know that there are cameras, her benefactor to be apprized of the daily torment... that her screams, shrieks and howls will be for more than the kuxing zhe’s ears.

Out the cell door. Ironically it is not locked. The qiufan is always under supervision... and well restrained. As trusty, the kuxing zhe not deemed in need of close confinement.

To the hall. The kuxing is pleased that her qiufan can walk, her bandaged toes not impeding movement. Her fingers have healed, no bandages, no infection, the daily agony behind her. Until of course the nails grow back. Then the torture of removal will begin again.

A male guard approaches. The kuxing zhe stops. Hand remaining at the qiufan’s breast she stops as well. The male guards in particular like to see a prisoner smile... the naked Caucasian prisoners. The humiliation entertains as much as the display of feminine flesh. This guard is no different. He nods. The kuxing zhe respectfully greets. The hand slips from the breast. The qiufan lowers her arms, hands to her mons, pinching the lips, tugging aside, to display her most intimate pink flesh.

The kuxing zhe smiles inwardly. The qiufan so obedient, so eager to please. Broken. Her will... her pride extinguished.

The male guard laughs, heightening the embarrassment, offers a compliment on the skills of the kuxing zhe then finally moves onward. 

The duo resume, grasping the breast, hands of the qiufan to her head. It is a short walk to the torture chamber but daunting. The qiufan is apprehensive. The kuxing zhe can feel her quivering as they come to a door of solid steel. A code is punched into an electric key pad. With the sound of a click the door is pushed open. They enter.

“There is a death bed in here as well, qiufan... specially shaped. But I think you’d like the laohudeng... tiger bench. If you’re confined in a Chinese prison you must experience the tiger bench. It’s like visiting the Great Wall,” the humor not appreciated.

There is also a fubu muban... belly board... a tiger chair... and an entire wall arrayed with rope and other items needed for bondage and restraint. As stated, no whips, canes, tawses and other items of corporal punishment. Painful yes, but so quick. It is not the Chinese way. But curiously there is one wall of shelves which are stacked with bottles... varying shapes and sizes.

The door shuts behind, only to reopen with the code entered into the keypad. The qiufan looks about. There are no windows. Does that bring some comfort? That the qiufan’s torture will be private? No viewers. Her hairless, naked and most vulnerable form only for the eyes of her kuxing zhe? Her agony to be shared intimately.

The breast is released. The kuxing zhe lowers her hands and grips the bottom hem of her one piece gray uniform. She pulls it up, over her head, denuding herself. There are no undergarments permitted in a Chinese women’s prison.

“It can be warm in the torture chamber,” she explains to the surprised qiufan.

She gazes at nakedness. The kuxing zhe is trim, well muscled though shapely. Though exposed, the power exchange is not interrupted. The qiufan is hairless, bald, with no eyebrows appearing freakish. The kuxing zhe is attractive. It is apparent from the look of envy that the qiufan is most aware. In fact she lowers, going to her knees to supplicate.

“Are you going to torture me,  shou ren zunjing kuxing zhe?”

“Yes. That is what I do. And in the torture chamber you can properly thank me for my attention and your care. Some time on the tiger bench. Then the death bed. Come.”