Chinese Brushes

I awakened that day to an early morning sun warming my skin and the sounds of birdsong drifting into my cell. A steaming cup of dandelion root and young nettle tea had been placed on the floor near my head and the shade raised, so I lingered a moment in the sunlight stretching slowly, stiffly, before rising. My nipples throbbed dully as I gently sipped the hot tea while trying to ignore a growing discomfort in my bladder and the weighty metal shackle around my right ankle. A chain padlocked to the shackle ran to a heavy stone anchor which prevented me from moving further than three feet, enough to lay down on the mat and sleep each night but little else.

I brushed a hand across one of my nipples and winced slightly at the tenderness, they were still red and slightly swollen from the previous day when I performed all my duties wearing a collection of small silver bells clipped to them. Takano had me running all over delivering messages which only made the sensation they inflicted stronger as I raced along the halls and paths trying not to be late. For every note delivered another small bell was added, each was light and had it's own unique and delicate tinkle but in time the growing weight added up, the cacophony of tiny chimes as they struck one another and sounded with each step was grating not to mention humiliating and set my teeth on edge, the dull throbbing in each nipple bloomed into a flower of pain that spread across my breasts as prickly heat. By day's end I was in such torment that even their removal and the application of a cool salve afterward did little to soothe my tender flesh.

I finished the rest of the tea and tugged absently on the chain wishing it was just a few feet longer or the stone weight a bit lighter, if he didn't show up soon the need to relieve myself would be too strong to ignore.

Just as I was about to be doomed to certain punishment Takano appeared with his jingling ring of keys and smiled broadly at my obvious relief. As I squatted over the basin washing myself afterward, Takano's cheshire cat grin opened and he began to speak...

"Our Lord says; too long you have been ignorant of discipline. Today your lessons begin."

I managed to choke down a cry of protest but couldn't hide the fear that ran along my spine like a spike of frost and caused my skin to twitch with goose flesh.

"Hee, hee. Your eyes will be wider still very soon, little doe. Now, stand up!"

He turned me round and made one last inspection, clucking his tongue in approval before escorting me down the familiar mossy path leading towards the training hall. I tried not to be concerned but Takano's constant giggling and occasional slaps on my ass while we picked our way through the forested valley were unnerving. Still, I reassured myself, haven't I been through the worst of it by now? My nipples throbbed with pain just thinking of those beastly little bells. Yes, it can't be any worse than that.

We reached the training hall gates and waited. Takano rang the great bell and made an offering before the small shrine while I kneeled patiently. Soon a man dressed in blood red robes with a huge vermillion lacquered demonic mask appeared and walked down the large stone steps towards us. His hands held a whip and coiled leather thong which was handed off to Takano who placed it firmly around my neck and with a swift jerk pulled me up and over to the waterfall of the hall shrine. I was roughly pushed under the freezing water and forced to stand and be purified while Takano made another more thorough inspection of my cleanliness and chastity. When the Demon-man was satisfied he grunted and nodded to Takano who jerked the thong and led me to kneel before him dripping and shivering. I stared at the deep red hem of the robe until it moved out of my lowered gaze and waited. Suddenly there was a sharp snap as the whip was cracked just inches from my ear. At the same time the thong about my neck pulled me forward, I could hear Takano laughing behind me as I struggled to maintain my balance and keep up with the ever quickening pace of the man in blood red robes climbing the stone steps to the training hall.

Inside the scent of exotic woods was like an incense as I was led, chilled to the bone and trembling, up more stairs into the main hall. A line of men in black lacquered demonic masks trimmed in horsehair flanked the large stone throne that dominated the room. Each mask was slightly different and some of the men wore nothing but loincloths though most wore heavy black robes. Some held whips, others small boxes but most were empty handed. All stood stiffly at attention, their grotesquely carved faces glowing brightly in the reflected sunlight that flooded the room.

Two men in grimacing fanged masks and red loincloths came forward and held my upper arms while the leather thong was slipped off and tossed aside. They brutally dragged me toward the throne while the man in blood red robes led the way to the base of His throne then joined his place to one side with the others.

I knew He would be seated there and though I ached to see Him I was unable to raise my head. The whisper of silks, the coolness as He moved from His throne and floated silently down two steps. A lulling drone of koto strings He spoke and held my heart,

"No flesh is too soft or beautiful to be spared. You have been spoiled long enough and these lessons will wait no longer."

Spoiled? My mind reeled at the implication. My body struggled to pull away from the sharp nailed fingers digging into my upper arms as I was held fast. No...I'm not...no.....

"NO!" I raised my head, shocked by my own voice and stared at Him.

A slight tilt of the head, a raised eyebrow. I froze and stared deep into a smoldering anger that grew within his dark eyes,

"No?"

"Please..." I somehow managed to break free of the demon-men's grasp and throw myself at His feet. "please....I can't. I'm not really spoiled! Please!"

I looked away, the shame of showing weakness before Him was worse than any fear of pain but I realized this too late. So I buried my face into the thick hem of His robes and waited. There was a supressed growl as He tore the thick hem from my grasp angrily.

"Too long! You are indeed most spoiled and undisciplined to behave so! The first lesson shall begin now!"

He turned away and left the throne room with long powerful strides, pushing up His long silk sleeves with purpose. I watched Him leaving, transfixed, when it suddenly occurred to me that the hands clutching me, dragging me after Him, were shaking.

***

The last room off the main hallway beyond the throne room had been covered with newly made tatami mats, a scent of summer grass drying in the sun released with each step as I was pulled past ornately carved wooden pillars . From first glance the patterns and designs carved into the dark wood appeared to be simple chaotic swirls and forms but as we approached they began to take shape into scenes of writhing figures. Demon masked men, identical to the two whose strong hands gripped me now, were torturing a variety of nude women in a seemingly endless number of ways. I sucked in my breath as my gaze lingered on the images; young maids being chased and whipped, their breasts and buttocks covered in swollen red lines as they ran with wild unbound hair and tears streaming down their cheeks, women held down as needles pierced their most tender portions of flesh and impossibly long tongues lapped up the drops of blood that flowed down their thighs, venerable ladies sat astride angular wooden horses their faces contorted in pain, their breasts and legs pulled down by heavy weights as more were added by leering figures wearing carved demon masks.

The grip on my arms never loosened but the living twins to those frightening torturers on the pillars slowed their steps so that I might take in more of the detailed and lifelike carvings we passed; Women were tied with intricate webs of knots, their breasts forced out and bound, a thick rope cutting deep between their legs, and hung from the branches of trees like victims of some monstrous spider waiting to be devoured. Groups of demon masked men raped a battlefield of widows with those impossibly long tongues. A woman staked in a forest with legs spread wide over a thick shoot of bamboo had been carved repeatedly upon many pillars among the other scenes but in each succeeding picture the shoot was closer and closer to her swollen nether lips until finally it entered her. The last carving bore a face so twisted it was hard to tell if she was in incredible pain or overwhelmed by pleasure. I blushed slightly, my face and neck growing warm and felt myself grow wet as I stared at the last carving trying to decipher her expression. It wasn't until I was roughly pulled away only a few feet and forced to stand before Him that I realized He had been watching all along.

'Did He know how excited I had become looking at such horrible images?' I couldn't help asking to myself as He settled down into yet another imposing looking throne and composed Himself. At that same momment His eyes stared into mine and widened, a faint smile curling on His lips. 'Does He know I was picturing myself in place of those poor women and growing wet at the thought?'

"Yes." The buzzing string again.

He may as well have struck me, suddenly all the air left my lungs and I went limp, gasping like a fish pulled into the boat waiting for the fatal blow...

Crack!

He clapped His hands together once and set everything in motion. A bamboo bar was lowered from the rafters by ropes and my wrists were quickly tied to the ends of it. Another shackle was placed on my left ankle and to each shackle was secured a rope. The rope from each ankle was secured to the carved pillar nearest it spreading my legs wide exposing the flushed arousal and wetness there, then the bamboo bar was raised until I was stretched out and barely touching my toes to the mat. Conjuring up some scrap of defiance I forced myself to look into His eyes.

He leaned back and smiling, returned my gaze, a finger to His chin in a parody of deep thought but His eyes still bore all the anger from before and I looked away suddenly ashamed that I had begged Him, ashamed of a wetness and heat that grew as I waited. After a time he spoke,

"Your lack of discipline disappoints me and you seem to have forgotten that begging is quite possibly the worst thing that you can do while in my presence. Perhaps something simple that even you can understand will suffice as a first lesson."

I hung there trembling, my nipples growing rigid and painful, the wetness betraying my desire at the sound of His voice in spite of my fear at His words.

"Throughout this lesson you will not speak nor utter a sound, neither of pain nor pleasure. Fail and I will send you home, used and marked as having been here but not trained."

I lurched forward straining as I bit my tongue to stop the word from leaping out. To be sent back used and rejected by Him would mean certain death, no one back home dare speak His name nor even admit openly He existed but they all knew what went on here. If trained there would be uses for me back home, a shadow life of dark rooms and pleasuring those who paid, but without instruction I was worthless. Still, the thought of those horrors was nothing compared to losing Him, being separated from His voice, His eyes... I nodded and waited.

Crack!

He clapped His hands together and spoke to the vermillion masked demon in blood red robes.

"The Chinese brushes."

He nodded and opened a huge lacquer chest near the throne and brought out a tray that held a number of worn, flexible bundles holding it before Him. Taking one of the bundles up and drawing it across His cheek I could see they looked a lot like the hand tied pot scrubbers used in the kitchens, but much larger and softer, not very frightening at all. In fact, the way He toyed with and gently ran His fingers through the strands they looked quite pleasurable. I watched curiously as He took his time selecting a few of the bundles from the tray and handed them over to the two demon-men who had brought and bound me, four brushes, one in each hand. They turned and moved towards me, I braced myself for...

Oh... oh my gods the feeling of those delicate strands. Four brushes began to gently stroke my body, caressing my shoulders, back, face, breasts... moving down they tickled my buttocks, inner thighs and nether lips. Even my nipples delighted in the attention as all feelings of soreness melted away. I squirmed with pleasure as delicate brushes played across my skin, the heat in my body built up as wetness trickled down my inner thighs. My tongue protruded, I licked my lips and panted erratically. The demonic masks leered and circled about me, fangs flashing, carved eyes bulging, the grunting of the men behind them in time with the rhythm set by the strokes as they worked. My hips ground the air without effort, twisting and turning to try and catch the brushes with my mound and nether lips. What chill in my bones remained from the purification was driven out by kindled lust as I pulled at my wrists and struggled wishing I just had one hand free to slip into my burning, drenched slit and touch the place they always seemed to miss.

Then a slight caress of the very place I needed touched so badly. I gasped and nearly moaned but caught myself and held my breath. Again! Oh but it passed by so fast, a flutter and yet it all felt so good. I closed my eyes and let the brushes play over my body and exhaled slowly. It was so delicious, so wonderful as they teased and tickled me.

In time, pleasurable tickling turned into a rough itching and I twisted uncomfortably in the ropes as each brush stroked me but they moved so swiftly and I was bound so securely it was futile to avoid them. As the itching soon became burning I strained frantically for relief but could feel myself being driven into the next stroke. No matter how I writhed and undulated, I was turned towards the oncoming blows of one or more brushes.

I looked over and saw He was smiling though His eyes remained dark, He nodded slightly when our gaze met and made a faint gesture that set the demon-men to beating vigorously against my breasts and buttocks. I gasped as the brushes struck me, my skin was red and tender, becoming swollen and each stroke was more painful than the last. I struggled to remain silent as He had bid and alternated between holding my breath and panting in ragged shallow gasps. Each time frayed strands struck my body I prayed it would be the last but the blows kept coming. Too fast to think, too painful to breathe, yet I gasped and wished silently for mercy. I bit my tongue harder and harder until I tasted the coppery tang of my own blood but I remained silent.

Suddenly they stopped and I thought it was over. I hung my head in relief and didn't notice at first the small glass vial of liquid held by the one in blood red robes and the bright red paper fans that each demon-man had taken up in place of the brushes. He approached with the vial in one hand and his whip in the other which he tossed casually about my neck with a soft chuckle so that both his hands were free. A pungent smell struck my nose as he removed the stopper and poured some out onto his fingers, reached out and touched a tender nipple.

I might have screamed, had the pain not overwhelmed me so that I couldn't breathe. It stung and burned and then, faded into a dull sense of soothing relief. The sensation settled into a pleasant warmth as I watched him reach out towards the other nipple. Again the pain exploded where the oil touched my tender flesh and then moments later dulled. I looked to Him and found the fire in his eyes had deepened, he nodded to the man in blood red robes who poured a considerable amount of oil onto his hand and ran it over my body. The hand felt like living flame leaving a burning trail in it's wake as it followed the same contours the brushes had; my breasts and back, face, shoulders, buttocks, inner thighs and then slid ever so slowly to brush against my puffy red nether lips. I thrashed and struggled to pull away like an animal caught in a trap, my only thought was to get away from that hand of fire and the probing fingers of flame that parted the fleshy folds until at last the object of their search was laid bare. I stared downward as he held me open and poured the remaining contents of the vial directly onto my slick pearl and massaged it in with his free hand.

I choked back the sobs and squeezed my eyes shut as my innermost flesh was poked and prodded, rubbed and pinched between fingers of flame. I twitched and jerked away but never did that tormenting touch leave me. I knew He was watching me and sensed His satisfaction at my torment when the fingers slowed and gentled and finally withdrew. Once again the heat became a spreading warmth, not unpleasant and a welcome relief. He reclaimed his whip and as it slid away and snaked to the floor I exhaled and relaxed into my bonds thinking the lesson had ended.

Crack!

My eyes jerked open as the two demon-men in red loincloths approached with a fan in each hand. With one held over each breast and the others poised near my buttocks and mound they paused in mock drama before commencing to wave them. How could a breeze cause such torture? It felt as if they were fanning the fires of my still burning flesh, a pain different but no less terrible than the one before. Only the air touched me but it was more than enough to cause agonizing pain. My lips were closed tight and once again I could feel the blood flowing as I bit down to suppress any outcry. The gentle breezes assaulted my senses, the pleasant warmth of a smoldering ember was fanned catching flame across my entire body which shuddered and convulsed. Once again I squeezed my eyes shut, tears sprung forth and ran down my fevered face, my body sang in pain but still I remained silent.

Soon I was nothing but blind misery and tears, too exhausted to fight I yielded to the fire was consumed. I felt the flames burn me into a detached numbness, all resistance faded away and I relaxed. A feeling of floating on warm winds replaced all pain and I exhaled softly with pleasure from the relief it offered. I hung in that moment and wished it would stretch out forever before me, lest I fall into hellish torment once more.

A rustle of fabric nearby caused my eyes to open and I looked into the twin caves of His eyes....a spark, a point of light in those black pits and I saw He held a burning candle. My heart's blood froze as He moved close to my side and slipped one one arm smoothly around me and cupped my breast as the demon-men withdrew. I ignored the pain of His touch as best I could, the fine silk of His robes agonized my raw skin where they brushed against me as He pressed Himself closer.

"A good beginning," He whispered and squeezed my breast cruelly, "but only a beginning."

I winced as He tweaked a swollen nipple, but nodded slowly. He was pleased. I rested against Him as much as my bonds would allow as He rolled my nipple between His fingers toying with it roughly. I felt it stiffen and rise beneath His touch and once again became aware of the dripping wetness between my legs and a pronounced ache deep inside. From the corner of my eye I saw Him bring up the candle and hold it over my upraised breast. Red wax fell from its flickering tip in slow motion...

I parted my lips to let out a scream and His open mouth clamped over mine, drawing the air out of my lungs as His tongue probed deep into my mouth then suckled and lapped at the blood still flowing from those wounds I had inflicted during my struggles to remain silent.

Though bound and held close to His side I felt myself fall as the shadows of the room lengthened and flowed over everything until all was black.