Silk

Reads: 290  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 1  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Historical Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
An erotic story set in China in the Qing dynasty (about the middle of the 19th century).

Submitted: December 23, 2014

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 23, 2014

A A A

A A A


SILK

by Enoch Grock

© 2014 Enoch Grock

The people:

Narrator, a noble lord

Chien-shao, his servant and catamite

Madame Hsiang-yün, his beautiful “little wife”

Shotung, an actor and musician

Pearl and Jade Flower, his female servants

 

the first day

It was in the late spring of the 199th year of the Empire of the Great Qing.  I visited a town in the centre of the great Empire or, to put it better, the centre of the civilised world.  I had grown weary, tired of my small entourage, tired of the monotony of life in my villa at the northern edge of the town, tired even of the exquisite garden and its scented blooms, lily pool, and my summer house in a secluded corner. I am a relative of He Shen, near enough to be a person of influence and power, and far enough to have not been implicated in his downfall. That evening, I rang the bell that I keep on my scholar’s table—an exquisite thing of chased metal from a foreign land.  My young servant, clad in a robe of black cotton and wearing black slippers, came silently into the room.  He bowed deeply and waited silently.  I said nothing, uncertain what I wanted of him. He coughed slightly and said “Perhaps the noble lord would like me to summon Madam Hsiang-yün?”  “No, she is not what I want tonight.”  “Perhaps …” and here the young man coughed again and allowed a fleeting smile “Perhaps I could …” “No, Chien-shao, not you,” though I smiled back at his affectionate impudence. I made up my mind suddenly. “I wish to see a play—the “Tale of the Chrysanthemum and the Peach Blossom.”  I am told that it is being performed later tonight in the Ducal Tea House.”  Chien-shao bowed again and left.  Thirteen minutes later he returned. “The arrangements are made, noble lord.  You will bathe and change before we eat?”

Later that evening, after a cleansing bath attended by a deft and soft handed woman servant named Jade Flower followed by a meal of choice delicacies eaten alone in the summerhouse in the garden at dusk, I sat in a rosewood chair of honour in the theatre.  I wore a blue silk robe embroidered with golden dragons over an intricately patterned high collared undershirt and golden slippers.  The music began and the players enacted the old tale.  I was detached and , for the most part, felt a deep lassitude as I watched the swirling stylised movements of the players and listened to the age-old music, though some scenes affected me greatly.  The entertainment came to an end.  The players bowed deeply and left the stage.  I sat in the half-darkness readying myself to leave and to do … what?  As I sat in thought my servant appeared.  “One of the players wishes to speak to you, noble lord.”  I waved my hand in gracious consent.  The servant stepped aside.  A slender young man stood there.  He was dressed entirely in dark red, a cotton robe with a wide sash, dark red slippers.  He bowed then looked at me boldly.  He was very pale, with dark eyebrows above symmetrical eyes the shape of lotus flower petals; his face a perfect oval under long dark hair with a top knot caught by a dark red ornament.  He was as smooth-skinned and beautiful as a young woman. I noticed his long pale hands. “My lord Duke, I wish to speak to you soon.  My name is Shotung.  I am a nobody, a player and musician, but I wish to speak to you.”  My servant began to speak “What impudence. What a scoundrel! …” I silenced him with a wave of my hand. “Be silent!  Why do you wish to speak to me, Shotung?”  “I cannot say now, but I shall another time in another place.”  “Were you in the play?” I asked him. “Yes, noble lord,  I was in the play—I played  Chrysanthemum.”I had noticed the grace and beauty of  the player playing the Lady Chrysanthemum who, such was his charms and  though I knew that all roles were played by males, had caused me to forget for a moment and see him as a woman of dreams.  “Oh, indeed, you played that lady?”  “Yes, my lord.”  I sat in silence for some minutes.  “Yes, you may see me.  Present yourself at the gate of the house at 11 on the night after next.  But …” and here I grew stern “You must have good reason  for this meeting or you will suffer, I promise.”  With that, I dismissed Shotung and prepared to leave for home. 

Immediately after we  arrived , I went to my summer house and  sent for Madam Hsiang-yün.  She was clad in a simple cream silk robe and as sweetly scented as the camellias that blossomed  in the garden outside.  “My lord,” she said as she knelt in front of me “What is your pleasure?”  “Little wife,” I said “You know well what I desire.” She unfastened my evening robe and took my erect penis into her small red mouth. I was transported—my mind at peace as when enjoying the music of a lyre, the beauty of calligraphy, and the cadences of the poetry that had delighted me earlier in the day.  In the mists of desire as her practiced mouth slid up and down my rampantly hard cock, my body could feel the distant wave that would crest and fall later.  I pushed her gently away. “My dear, your scent is sweet and you are too skilled.”  She smiled, stood gracefully, and pushed her silk robe off her shoulders so that it fell in a rippled puddle at her feet.  I feasted on the sight of her round breasts, pale, pale golden-white skin, slender waist, and the small dark triangle at the top of her thighs.  “My dear lady, let us ride the lotus to the end.”  She smiled and turned away. She knew how I delighted in the sight of her white-gold  skin, the deep groove of her spine, the slight flare of her hips, and above all the delicate perfection of the pale silvery-gold globes of her buttocks, her ??. Madame Hsiang-yün had been married to a brigand at the age of 14, becoming his sixth wife three days before I had occasion to have him killed.  At the time when she came to me as my little wife, my ???, she was a virgin after a fashion as her husband the brigand preferred the use of her back door to the use of the gardens of peach blossoms preferred by lovers of women.  In short, he was a sodomite, a ??, indifferent to the sex of those he took in that manner. I renamed her after a character in the “Ju Pou Tuan” after I discovered the extraordinary fragrance of all parts of her body while preparing to take her virginity and had become intoxicated with love for her.  The memory of that fragrance and the sight of her gleaming buttocks stiffened me even more.  She moved slowly toward me, facing away.  My hands caressed the soft, resilient cheeks of her delectable pìgu.  She reached behind her, crouching, for my rampant staff then swiftly and with a sweet lithe motion, sank on to my lap with my stiffness impaling her honeyed chamber, her bi bi.  Then, leaning forward, she commenced a rhythmic movement up and down so that I could delight in the sight of her buttocks and back.  The wave came closer and closer as her movements grew faster and she began to oof, mphhh, and sigh as her love spot rubbed against my erection.  I could contain the wave no longer and gasped , reared, thrust and spurted high and long inside her clutching, clever bi bi before slumping back on the raised platform on which I had been sitting, replete, sated. She lifted herself from my body, walked slowly across the room, naked as a peeled wand and as graceful.  I watched the sway of her pearly hips as she walked away and stiffened again.  When she returned, she was carrying a tray of warm wet towels.  I suspected that they had been prepared by Chien-shao who, I was certain, had been listening to the sounds of love or even watching through a spy hole as he tugged and stroked his own slender y?n j?ng, five beating one.  Cleaned and scented with rose water by my skilled lover, I took a final cup of tea with her then slept for the next seven hours on the low day bed with its soft mattress.

 

 

II

the second day

In the morning, in the sunlit chamber, as I ate my simple breakfast and drank tea, I questioned Chien-shao.  “My lord,” he protested “I neither heard nor saw you while you were enjoying the delights of your lover.”  I looked at the young man and thought I saw the fleeting shadow of a sly smile on his smooth-skinned oval face.  I knew him to be artful and cunning as a fox.  “How is that you had the fragrant warm towels ready when Madame Hsiang-yün required them?”  There was a slight colour in his cheeks as he paused to ready his answer.  Before he could speak, I asked him “And did you see her naked and fresh from my bed?”  The colour deepened.  I reached for the sash on his blue cotton robe, undid it, and revealed, beneath his white undershirt, his stiffened, slender, red cock, his j?b?. “Ah, your rooster is strutting at the thought of what you saw!”  I should mention here that I am a experienced and versatile sensualist and no stranger to the passions of the cut sleeve and the bitten peach, though I preferred whole peaches, or at least only those that only I had bitten.  I am also always a y? hào, as befits my station and manliness, though appreciative of my ling hào of the moment.  I prized Chien-shao both for his qualities as a servant and his artfulness as a crystal boy.  When I felt so inclined, he knew well how to take my dark red ambassador into his rear chamber, and how to wriggle his supple body and peachy behind to great effect when being possessed and to make the necessary appreciative moans and sighs.  He was an expert in flute-playing—pinxiao—with a soft mouth and clever tongue.  “What did you do when you were watching us last night?” I said with mock sternness. “I …” he began and coloured even more deeply but his cock stiffened as he spoke.  “Do not deny it!” “My lord, I did watch from behind the tall screen, I confess.  Do not beat me.” He looked up into my eyes pleadingly. “What did you do?” “I … I stroked myself …” “Do it now.”  I stood in front of him and pushed his robe off his shoulders so that it fell, crumpled ,to the floor.  Tentatively, his right hand grasped his erect j?b?. “Do it,” I said sternly “Or I shall beat you.”  The rhythm of his hand increased and his mouth opened.  “Are you thinking of the lady?”  “Oh,” he gasped, “oh …” I reached out and stayed his hand just before he was going to convulse in his pleasure.  “So that is what you did while you were snooping.” “But,” he gasped, his cock inflamed and throbbing, “Master, please ...”  I led him, naked but for his short undershirt to the low day bed.  “Kneel, with your face on the counterpane.” I looked down at his pearly-pale, rounded, hairless buttocks and the undershirt raised above them as my cock stiffened.  I raised my open right hand swiftly and brought it down hard on his rounded behind.  He squealed and wriggled as I repeated the slaps on each of the protruding cheeks in turn until they flushed scarlet.  I opened my robe and held my penis.  The young man lay, bottom raised, silent and tense.  I turned to go to a small cupboard in the corner of the room, opened it and took a jar of scented oil from it. I dipped my fingers in the oil and ran them down his spine to the cleft of his buttocks and on to the small pink, puck

puckered, chrysanthemum of his anus, his hòu t’ang. He sighed

 

as I pushed one, then two fingers into him.  I knelt behind him, robe open and my dark, engorged penis throbbing against his soft skin.  “Now, watch this, you sly watcher,” I said  to his side turned face as I thrust my oiled j?b? into his rear chamber.  I reached around to grasp his throbbing rooster and squeezed it as I penetrated him. “Oh,” he gasped “Oh, oh, oh,” and his features contorted as if in pain then relaxed then twisted and relaxed as I pistoned in and out and in again. I plunged swiftly and intensely.  He, practiced catamite that he was, writhed and moaned as if in painful ecstasy as he was possessed.  It took only thirteen plunges past the tight ring of his anus to bring on my crisis, which came four plunges after I felt his sticky semen gushing into my slick palm. I gripped his semi-hard cock as I ejaculated deep inside him.  It was warm and still in the room in the aftermath, the only sound his quick, gasping breaths.  “Now, you must wash me.  Be thankful your rosy behind is not decorated with the stripes of my whip.”  “My lord, I am,” he said “But you have punished me in other ways.  You plunge so deep in me.”  “And you do not like that?” I said as he rinsed my naked body paying particular attention to my still half-hard rod and the pendant globes of my scrotum, my ??. “You do not like my ambassador?” “Oh my lord, I do, but I can feel you for a day afterwards.” “So that is why you ejaculated into my hand as I rogered you? Because I was punishing you? Or pleasuring you?” “Both, my lord,” he said “It is complicated.  Not like when I watch Jade Flower and Pearl or when Pearl plays my flute.  That is just pleasure but not as intense as when you honour me.”  I knew the rascal was on intimate terms with the female servants.  It added to my sensual pleasure in fucking his behind and when he played my flute with his skilled mouth.  I was growing hard again, still naked and with him rubbing my body with thick towels. However, I had had my fill of venery for the time and resolved to spend my day in other pursuits.

Pearl assisted my dressing, after I had dismissed Chien-shao and he had left rubbing his reddened bottom.  I wore black silk trousers, a short red robe over a black silk undershirt, and black soft slippers.  I spent the morning in the summer house, practising calligraphy on a low raised dais at which I sat cross-legged.  I wrote poetry about the golden sun-lit trees, blossoms, pond, and gravel paths that I could see beyond the opened sliding window screens.  I lost track of time, entering a poetic trance as the glossy ink flowed in sinuous characters covering the heavy maize coloured paper on which I drew and I felt that abandonment of self that can come after the  body is sated and at peace.  I thought of the wise old man who had instructed me in calligraphy when I was 19 years old. I composed a brief poem for Madame Hsiang-yün but it was not about her graceful corporeal existence but rather about the oneness of her being with the beauty of nature.  When I had finished the poem, I sat motionless for an hour meditating while the shadows of the afternoon sun moved across the garden.  I was awoken from this near trance by Jade Flower bringing me a tray of fruits  and nuts and a large cup of yellow wine from the south.  Jade Flower was the plumper of the two maidservants.  She had glossy black hair piled high in an intricate knot fastened by a jade ornament.  She wore dark green cotton clothes with white sandals on her small feet. I admired both of them and was amused by the contrast between her feminine curves and the slender, lithe, almost boyish Pearl.  Such is the nature of beauty; it can enchant in different forms and appeal at different times to different tastes. Jade Flower had dark eyes with a tawny flash, a snub nose, and a mouth like a flower, all in a round, pretty face.  Her breasts and hips were voluptuous, roundly swelling above and below her small waist. Pearl had pale hazel eyes, a well-shaped nose, and a slightly wide red-lipped mouth in the face of an aristocratic cat.  She had small firm breasts and, though slender-hipped, particularly round and protuberant firm buttocks—most unusual  in a Chinese woman and, therefore, highly prized.  Both of them had skin of the pale gold shade that appealed to me above all others.

Though I was supposed to be ignorant of it, I knew that Pearl was inclined more to the sexual love of women than of men, and frequently visited Jade Flower at night when she used her clever mouth and fingers to make them both moan with ecstasy.  I knew too that  Chien-shao was complicit in these adventures and frequently lent Pearl his wooden double dildo, his ???, the intricately carved, smooth double penis that the Japanese call “hari gata.”  I knew too why the sly fox did that.  It was in exchange for sexual favours.  Pearl would play his flute or, even more to his taste, allow him to hide behind a screen and watch and listen while the two women wound their limbs about each other, each speared by the long double headed dildo, and he, the rogue, rubbed his slick hard penis until it spurted as Pearl and Jade Flower sighed and moaned in their joy.  Another time, he hid while Pearl knelt, bare bottom in the air as her pointed pink tongue parted the lips of Jade Flower’s bi?ozi and wriggled  as Jade Flower writhed and moaned, driving Chien-shao nearly mad with lust as he watched them to their and his climax.  I knew all this for two reasons. First Chien-shao had told me, boastingly, for which I had to punish him in a, to me, enjoyable manner.  Suffice it to say, he slept on his stomach for the next few nights, being acutely aware of my various ministrations.  Second, having been told, I, one later evening and by arrangement with him, spied on both him and the two women.  I derived such exquisite pleasure from this decadence that, on return to my bedroom, I had my pleasure of Madame Hsiang-yün no fewer than three times, the third time in the manner favoured by her vile husband.  She mewled like a cat as I slid into her lubricated  hòu t’ang, but writhed in climax long before I spurted into her rear chamber.  It was a fondly remembered night.

I finished the meal that Jade Flower had brought, dismissed her with a gracious wave, and sat for a while in drowsy thought, before performing my simple ablutions.  And so to my solitary bed.

 

 

III

the third day

The next day passed pleasantly.  I read and wrote for most of the day in a bower at the further end of the gardens of the estate.I saw few people and was lost in my scholarship.  I had some scrolls of history and poetry from the Northern Song Dynasty (the Bèi Sòng), in particular from the time of the Emperor Huizong, and spent some hours studying them and practicing calligraphy in the style of the period. Little, and nothing out of the ordinary, happened during the peaceful daylight hours and I ate my early evening meal of rice with five vegetables in imperial sauce, sour plums, and syrup cakes, accompanied by the best, crystal-clear bai jiu.  Its cool fire warmed my spirit and the peace of the afternoon gave way to drowsy ardent feelings suitable for the evening.  When the dishes had been cleared away and  Chien-shao had refilled my glass, I called for music.  Jade Flower was skilled in playing the san hsien (the ??), the three-stringed ancient instrument, and played favourites, “Big waves crashing on the shore” and others that soon had me in a good mood.  I listened to the music and the natural sounds of the wind in the leaves and night birds, looking at the glossy top of Jade Flower’s head as she bent over the instrument, and thinking that I would retire early that evening, accompanied by Madam Hsiang-yün to provide a perfect end to the day and prelude to sound sleep.  As Jade Flower rested and I sipped more bai jiu, Chien-shao approached me and bowed.  I looked up as I heard the rustle of his garments and the shuffle of his silk slippers.

“My lord, it is almost 10 in the evening and you will recall that you will have a visitor at 11.”

I had completely forgotten the actor/musician and his presumption and, for a moment, was irritated by the interruption and the frustration of my plans.  Then I remembered the young man’s oval face and the grace of his bearing when playing the Lady Chrysanthemum—the woman of dreams.

At 11, I heard a disturbance on the other side of the screens.  It was quite dark in the bower. Jade Flower was almost invisible as she sat cross-legged on a cushion in the corner.  Chien-shao appeared, bowed low, and said, with evident reluctance and disapproval, “Your visitor” and he stressed the word with scorn “Is here, my lord.”

“Show him in, then go away.” 

I was displeased by his pointless resentment.  Then Shotung was there standing perfectly still after appearing noiselessly.  He was wearing a sumptuous silk robe with an intricate pattern of birds and flowers, in white, red, and gold, on a deep blue background, the broad band at the collar and on the lower third of the robe was white and contained images of trees, mountains, and figures in green and blue.  It was a rich man’s robe and, had I not known, I would have thought him to be a handsome woman dressed as a noble.  He was not a noble and not a woman but there was no denying the intriguing grace and dignity of his bearing.  He bowed very low to me, straightened, and stood as if waiting for a command.

“What is it that you want of me?  Why do you want to see me?”

“Is it not you, my lord, who wished to see me?”

“You are impertinent.  I said no such thing.”

“Yes, you said no such thing.” 

There was something in the low tone of his voice, his smooth impassive face, and his confident bearing that told me he knew what lay behind the words of men and could see their desires, even those they had not told themselves.

“Enough of this.  You are here.  You are my guest.  Jade Flower, bring our guest some tea.”

Shotung sat on the floor in the place I indicated with the fluid grace of an actor or courtesan.  He sat completely still until Jade Flower knelt in front of him and offered him the pale jade porcelain cup half full of fragrant tea.  He cupped the cup in his slender white hands and sipped in complete silence.  The room was half-lit and there were shadows everywhere.

“Shotung.  Tell me. Why are you here.”

“I am here my lord because you desired me to be here, because I wish to tell you something, and because, before I do,  I wish to dance for you, as you desire.”

“As I desire?”

“Yes, my lord, as you desire.”

The young man spoke the truth, but I was angry with him because of his presumption.

“Then, dance and tell me what you have come to tell me, then go.” I said, with knitted brows and in a fierce voice.

“My lord,” he said submissively “I need some time to prepare and some music … perhaps your servants.”

I clapped my hands then gave orders to Jade Flower to prepare a nearby pavilion, to have Pearl and Chien-shao assist her, and to summon Madame Hsiang-yün.

Thus it was that, fifteen minutes later, I sat with Madame Hsiang-yün seated on my right, Chien-shao standing on my left, and looking at Jade Flower and Pearl in identical deep blue robes kneeling with their instruments in their hands.  It was a silent tableau broken when the red curtain behind them parted and Shotung glided noiselessly into the room.  His elaborate robe was gone and he wore loose garments of a light white fabric that hid little of his body.  He bowed deeply toward me then stood silent and impassive with joined hands.  A minute went by …  Shotung began to dance as Pearl and Jade Flower played their instruments softly with closed eyes. 

It is very hard to describe the next thirty minutes.

To begin with the light in the pavilion seemed to change in intensity and even in colour as the rhythmic dancing dictated.  At times, it was hard for me to believe that the dancer was a young man and not a mesmerisingly beautiful young woman.  At other times, Shotung was aggressively male, his dance suffused with athletic maleness.  At such a point, I glanced sideways (hard though it was to take my eyes from the spectacle) to see Chien-shao, his eyes shiny, his mouth half open, and the tenting in his loose black trousers demonstrating his arousal.  Sex hung heavy in the air as Shotung danced and danced to the hypnotic repetitive music.  Pearl and Jade Flower were sweating and swaying as they played, played far better than I had ever heard them or even thought them capable of playing.  Their eyes remained closed, as were Madame Hsiang-yün’s.  She too was swaying and her golden skin was covered with a sheen in the flickering, changing light. 

Something miraculous happened.  Shotung shed his clothing in a trice.  At one moment, his loose white garments were there and the next they were not.  He had not stopped dancing and the light continued to flicker.  It became red and his sleek, shiny body rose-coloured.  At the moment in which his clothes disappeared his back was to us in our semi-circle and his front toward the musicians.  He had a long straight back and perfectly rounded buttocks.  It was a shock to see that those enticing cheeks, stained rose in the flickering light, could as easily belong to a slender girl as to the young man who was dancing.  I heard Chien-shao gasp quietly and saw his hand move to his straining erect penis, his j?b? that pushed against the thin black fabric of his trousers.  Then the wonders increased, I saw Pearl stop playing and look up at Shotung.  Her eyes grew wide and she gasped.  Then Shotung spun to face us.  The form we saw had unmistakable small breasts and the dark inverted triangle of a woman between the tops of his thighs.  Shotung paused, an enigmatic smile on his otherwise impassive face, then leaped and turned and was a man again, his rounded shiny limbs male and his semi-erect j?b? moving as he moved.  That was Shotung’s secret!  He was a shape-changer and a ?? (woman-man), capable of being either or both as he wished. I felt as though I were drugged; the air seemed thick and the resumed music hypnotic as Shotung danced his erotic, pan-sexual dance.  I was aroused and the shiny eyes and flushed faces of all the others were testaments to their arousal.  We all desired Shotung in our various ways—I knew that Lady Hsiang-yün longed to be possessed by him; Chien-shao to possess him, though I knew that was not to be;  Pearl wanted the she-Shotung in her bed to feast on her perfect breasts and fragrant bi bi as Jade Flower watched and strummed her own slick grotto in ecstasy; and I wanted to plough the furrow between the he-Shotung’s perfect buttocks, watching them writhe as my j?b? thrust into his rear chamber in the devotions of the rabbit spirit, Tun Er Shen, ??? ; then to summon the she-Shotung so that I could frolic and swoon in her perfumed garden.  Our collective sexual excitement was whipped by the frenzied music, the gasps of the performers, and the brazen sexuality of Shotung’s shape-shifting dancing.  Then suddenly it stopped.  The silence was thick with anticipation. Shotung stood quite still, naked as a pearl, his and her pale flesh gleaming.  He lifted his arms in the thick silence, smiled then bowed, then, as the light flickered and died, vanished.  Everyone sat in the almost darkness, still, the only sound that of heavy breathing, waiting.

Nothing happened.  Shotung was gone.  Unspeaking, we went to our separate sleeping places (not Jade Flower and Pearl who, I learned later, went to the same bed and fell asleep, entangled in perspiration, only after they had each achieved shuddering orgasms at each other’s lips, tongues, and fingers.  This I learned a day later from Chien-shao who had been a hidden witness, though he did not then tell me the whole truth about that evening.)

I lay, half asleep and alone in the darkness.  An hour later, at the darkest time of the night, Shotung entered my chamber, not the only chamber, in one way or another, that he would enter that night. It was so dark that I was only aware of a presence, a warmth, a faint scent.  I reached out to find a slender waist and then felt a hand run down the centre of my body.  I pulled at the still silent figure and felt him falling, melting on to my body and all I could think of was that he was completely naked.  Our couplings were silent.  When they were done, I had ejaculated three times.

First, into his warm, wet mouth while he knelt between my spread legs as I lay naked on my back.

Then, into his hand as he simultaneously held and manipulated both our rigid cocks as we lay face to face.  During my mounting spasms, I stroked his naked pale body, feeling the smoothness of his skin—as smooth as Lady Hsiang-yün’s—and … but then my breathing quickened and I, flushed and panting, lost to the outer world, dissolved in the urgent rush of my coming.

Last, into his oiled, clasping rear chamber after a rest and after he had assumed a straight backed kneeling position with his ripe buttocks—his ??toward me, and then slowly lowered himself until he was on all fours.  As I was pumping into him and nearing my climax, it was as if I were fucking Madame Hsiang-yün and I could have sworn it was she-Shotung’s perfumed grotto,  her bi bi, into which I shot my shuddering climax.  Perhaps it was.  Perhaps it was both and he a young woman and a crystal boy at the same time.  It was an exquisite, exhausting, ecstatic torture either way.

After my third coming and after an unknown time had passed, I lay back on my bed, eyes closed as Shotung washed the stains of our couplings away with wet, warm, slightly scented towels, helped me don my dark blue silk sleeping robe, then, as I thought, was gone.  I woke from a profound sleep at a time when the first wan light of the pre-dawn hour was in the room.  To my surprise, I was prone, flat on the mattress with my head slightly turned on my flat pillow.  My silk sleeping robe had ridden up and was bunched about my waist.  I was half-asleep when I was conscious of someone being in the chamber but too tired to think about who it was.  Then I felt two hands on my shoulders, warm caressing reassuring hands that stroked and kneaded my skin and muscles through the silk robe to a state of drowsy bliss.  The hands moved down my body and began to stroke and pinch the cheeks of my buttocks, my pigu, my ??[?.  In my drowsiness, I relaxed and enjoyed the unfamiliar sensation.  One of the hands moved and, splayed in the center of my back under my robe, pressed me firmly into the mattress, the other parted the taut round cheeks of my behind and found the starfish of my hòu t’ang. I flinched at the unaccustomed feeling but neither the hand that held me down nor the questing fingers of the other hand would be denied.  I relaxed and, truth to tell, began to enjoy the insistent probing.  Suddenly, both hands were taken away.  There was complete silence, a pause.  Then I felt a round warm presence at my hòu t’ang and, as I moved slightly, was impaled by a slick long cock in a single swift movement.  I could feel a warm body on me and the cock deep inside me stretching the ring of my anus; rising, withdrawing, plunging in me, pulling away, the insistent piercing rhythm of an imperious y? hào making me his submissive ling hào as my cock stiffened, squashed as it was between my body and the mattress by the insistent pumping of my ravisher.  You might ask why I, a noble lord of high rank with a retinue, a mistress, a catamite, and a life of power and luxury, did not resist this violation?  I cannot answer fully.  Perhaps it was sorcery by Shotung, for it was he who buggered me so thoroughly and lengthily, that made me not capable of resistance.  Perhaps it was the perverse enjoyment that I found in being pinned down, taken, ravished, sodomised like any crystal boy summoned to please an emperor.  Perhaps it was because it seemed the logical ending to a night of exquisite carnal pleasures.  As Shotung’s ravishing of me went on, I remembered the only other time I had felt this pleasurable pain.  Fragments of memory of my calligraphy master shifted and shattered as, for the first time, I could hear Shotung groaning quietly as he rammed home his long cock, shuddered, and reached the summit of his pleasure.  He gasped incoherently, then lay, heavy and silent, on my back for minutes.  He slowly withdrew … I could not move.  My legs were parted and I could feel the absence of Shotung’s cock and the wetness of his being there.  Though there was an element of pain, my strongest feeling was one of lightness; as if, instead of lying prone and flat, I were floating, face down, inches above my mattress. Shotung reached down and gently but insistently turned me over.  My engorged j?b? stood straight up, thick and dark in the dawn’s light.  Shotung knelt by my low bed, bent over my body, and took my cock into his mouth.  It took but few deft workings of his wet, red mouth to make me throb and spurt hard in climax for the fourth and last time that night.  Shotung cleaned me again, put his cool slender fingers on my closed mouth as I lay motionless, and left.

 

 

IV

the fourth day

I slept for four or five hours undisturbed.  Chien-shao should have been there earlier to wake me and bring me tea but he and the rest of my small household had good reason to be tired, as I was to find out later that morning.  Long after the day had broken, Chien-shao entered my chamber quietly.  He was wearing loose black cotton trousers and a white shirt.  He carried a lacquer tray with tea and a plate of fruit.  The first thing I noticed were the dark shadows under his eyes.  He bowed deeply and began to apologise for being late.  I waved my hand and decided silently to discover, later, what had caused those dark shadows.  He knelt on the floor in silence as I sipped my tea from the jade cup.

You look tired, Chien-shao.”

He heard the question in my voice and replied so softly that I could not hear him.  I decided to wait for his explanation and told him to fetch Pearl, whom I wished to bathe and dress me that morning.  When she arrived I dismissed  Chien-shao and told Pearl to stand. She had knelt on entering and bowed her head.  She was wearing a pale green robe with a dark green wide sash.  I told her to stand and to take off her robe.  I had a taste to compare her slender lissom figure with that of the shape-shifter Shotung. She seemed to demur momentarily and I had to speak to her sharply.

“Stand and disrobe this minute!”

Startled , she stood quickly, head bowed, undid her sash and let the pale green robe puddle at her delicate feet.  I told her to look at me and noted with satisfaction the same shadows under her eyes.  I also noticed the small bruises on her neck and breasts.  Her bosom, small but shapely with plum coloured pointed nipples slanting slightly upward ; her slim girlish waist, the light triangle of her public hair hiding the lips of her bi?ozi; her rounded slender thighs and long legs; her long pale feet.  I told her to turn.  More small bruises on the back of her neck and, to my delight, the unmistakeable marks of teeth on the rotundity of her left buttock.  Chien-shao?  Jade Flower?

“Who bit you?”

“My lord … it was Jade Flower,” she said in a low voice and hung her head.

“Come near.”

She turned and walked toward me, her head still bowed.  I turned her away from me and ran my hand over the bitten cheek.  I have mentioned before that her pìgu was unusually rounded and protuberant, two perfectly matched golden melons.  Such buttocks are the only feature that I have found alluring in laowai women. All the ??that I had known were too pale and fleshy for my taste, but they all had splendidly rounded and resilient backsides.  Pearl’s skin was silken smooth and my sensitive fingers could feel the tiny indentation where she had been bitten.  My j?b?, which had been quiet and small since the night, stiffened and rose as I touched her cleft behind.  Just then I recalled all the details of the night and decided to postpone all carnal pleasures until my thoughts had cleared.I ordered Pearl to don her robe and to prepare my bath.  As I felt her hands soaping and rinsing my body my thoughts wandered to the events of the night and further back to an episode with my calligraphy master. Again, under her ministrations my rooster stirred and she, mistaking my mood, prepared to make him crow.  I moved her hand away.

When I was cleaned and dressed in a simple black silk robe, I summoned Chien-shao.

“Where were you in the night?”

“Why, my lord, with you while Shotung danced.”

“After, my rabbit, after.  Do you think I cannot see the shadows under your eyes?”

He muttered and shifted from foot to foot.  I told him that he would regret not telling me the truth.  Eventually, he told me what I had already suspected—that he had spent some, but not all, of the the dark hours spying on Pearl and Jade Flower in their sexual frenzies.  His shadowed eyes glittered as he told me how Jade Flower, usually the passive partner in their Sapphic embraces, had been the aggressor, had stripped Pearl roughly and held her down while she feasted on her body as Pearl writhed and moaned.  He admitted that this display, following the ecstatic feelings aroused in him by Shotung’s performance, had led him to a masturbatory orgy that had he said had left his j?b? red and  a little sore.  I dismissed him and ordered him to ask Madame Hsiang-yün if she would favour me with her presence.

Ten minutes later, I smelled a subtle fragrance—the unmistakable erotic aroma of Madame Hsiang-yün.  It was that, the reader will recall, that aroused and enthralled me on my first meeting with her.

“Enter, Madame Hsiang-yün,” I said without turning to see her.  Then she was there, swiftly and noiselessly kneeling before me, the shimmering folds of her pale green robes displayed as neatly as if they had been arranged, her glossy black hair secured by two jade combs.  She looked up, the pale oval of her face as smooth as the rest of her skin, her scarlet mouth slightly parted.

“My lord, you wished my presence?”

“I did, for I want you to tell me what you experienced last night after Shotung danced.”

Was there a faint flush on those pale cheeks?  She lowered her head slightly. 

“My lord,” she said, then lowered her head more and fell silent.

“Madam, you will tell me what happened.  I insist.”

“My lord, I dare not … it is …”

Then I realized what shamed her into silence.  Shotung, who had vanished without trace, is more than a shape-shifter, more than a woman/man.  He is a daemon, a creature of both sexes and all appetites, who breaks the barriers of space and time, and could, in a single night have engaged in carnal delights with all the members of my household.  My thoughts were confused, swirling in my head were visions of she-Shotung writhing in sapphism with Pearl at the same time as he-Shotung, fresh from sodomizing a gasping, grunting Chien-shao, made me his crystal boy after I had made him mine.  And what had he-Shotung/she-Shotung done with and to Madame Hsiang-yün?  I felt faint, as if transported from the real world to a dream landscape of shifting shapes, colours,  and conjugations, of a sodomiser buggered, a simultaneously passive and aggressive Sapphic lover, a world of entwined shadows, gasps, cries, whimpers of ecstasy and pain, and in the middle of it all a shape-shifting daemon, rooster erect, fragrant femaleness wet with desire, hòu t’ang wet with the erotic spillings of others, a pale body shining in the dark shifting colours of the night …

I stood and looked down sternly at Madame Hsiang-yün.

“Madame,” I said my voice choked with emotion “Stand up and remove your robe.  Strip!”

“My lord …” she had tears on her pale, perfect cheeks …

“Strip! Or shall  I summon Chien-shao here to strip you by force and beat you with a whip?”

With great reluctance, Madame Hsiang-yün undid the wide sash that held her robe together and then, in a single graceful gesture shrugged her robe until is puddled, shining at her feet and she stood straight in a simple white shift that covered her from neck to knees.  I glared at her, trying to mask my love and admiration of her shapely beauty.

“Strip, Madame, strip!”

She raised the hem of her shift and pulled it over her head, threw it aside and stood motionless and naked as a peeled wand, her pale gold skin shining in the light. I told her to turn slowly.  She did, with neither shame nor reluctance.  Her skin was glowing and perfect, not a mark on it, no telling bite marks or bruises, nothing but the faint shadows under her expressionless eyes to betray her.

“Madame,” I said, and my voice was slightly hoarse.  “Tell me of last night.

She looked up and her eyes met mine.  Then she smiled a slight smile.

“My lord, I think you know what happened  …”

“Tell me,” he said sternly.

She told him, in halting detail, of her sexual doings with Shotung and of their dream-like nature with time passing as if in a drug-induced haze; of their acts taking what seemed at once like hours and a fleeting dream; of her heightened consciousness of every part of her body; of her soundless cries as Shotung brought her to climax to orgasm after climax; and how she floated, dreamy and drugged  in the silence that followed his leaving her.  She lifted her tear-stained face to him.

“Forgive me, my lord, it was as though I was bewitched by a daemon, unable to resist and seduced by a man and a woman all at once when all I ever wish is to serve you.” Yet still she smiled a secret smile.

My heart melted and I took her naked body into my arms to comfort her and wipe her tears.  To my astonishment, my j?b?, that throbbing rooster, stiffened as she pushed he body against mine and her small sobs gave way to amorous panting … Her nimble fingers undid my robe and unveiled my striving, horizontal cock.

“My lord, you are ready,” she said and looked up into my face, smiling her secret smile.  “Even after your night?”

“Madame, what do you know of my night?”

“Nothing, my lord, but what you will tell me.”

Thus it was that I told her in great detail as she writhed beneath me, first supine with legs parted and lifted as I pushed into her scented garden and then, as I reached the end of my tale of Shotung, she was prone, legs together, and my rooster firmly within her hòu t’ang, the oiled  and most secret part of her, cresting to a shuddering climax as she cried a long ecstatic cry.  Then there was just the silence of the afterglow.

We never saw Shotung again.

So it was in the late spring of the 199th year of the Empire of the Great Qing.

 

 


© Copyright 2017 Enoch Grock. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

More Historical Fiction Short Stories

Booksie 2017-2018 Short Story Contest

Booksie Popular Content

Other Content by Enoch Grock

Silk

Short Story / Historical Fiction

Ewa & Wanda

Short Story / Literary Fiction

Popular Tags