This is a work of fiction. All characters depicted are 18 and over
Hard-nosed businessman and billionaire ivory merchant, Zhang Jingli, stood frantically swiping through reams of photos on his phone. Sweating in spite of the aircon, with an erection tenting his boxers, he looked up every now and then making sure he still had his viewer's attention.
On the other side of the sliding glass door, still soundly jammed by a line of pebbles, Ally stared wide-eyed at the impromptu exhibition; Zhang's naked body tied to a chair, ball gag in his mouth, clamps biting into his nipples; down on all fours, handcuffed to the plumbing of a hot-water radiator, a brick zip-tied to his scrotum, ass striped with purple welts from the blows of a split cane. Pins pushed through his eyebrows, bloodied ear stitched with staples. Some disembodied hand, patently female, grinding a cigarette out on his blistered anus. Bound and gagged in another frame, ball sac nailed to the seat of a wooden chair.
Behind him, fists pounded on the apartment's barricaded door, Zhang's servant trying to enter. The VVIP was meant to prepare for the hastily convened celebration, and if he didn't get a move on he'd be late. Not fashionably late, nor merely typically tardy. But ten years in prison late, for insulting his majesty.
Ally looked up, swiping her fringe. "Well, well, well, you kinky little perv. So that's what spins your wheels?"
Zhang nodded fervently in obvious excitement. At last, she was getting it... like he'd been trying to tell her all along, they were made for each other. He was aching to be hurt, and she had the wherewithal to hurt him. Repulsed and enthralled in equal proportion, Ally studied yet another photograph, the clear plastic barrel of a biro jammed deep in Zhang's urethra, a toothpick goading ants to their doom. She shook her head. "Those poor bloody ants."
Another photograph- the same abused dick caught in a rat trap, veins bulging, the tortured knob and an inch of shaft already dark purple. Ally raised a hand. "I get it. I get it." she said, then looked at him and pointed at herself, "And you want me to...?"
Zhang nodded eagerly. Yes, he did.
"And you won't try to... you know...?"
While he couldn't hear a word, he knew from experience what the young female was asking. And the answer was 'no', he wouldn't. And in return for his not trying to stick his dick inside her, she could do what she liked with it. Do what she liked with him, just as long caused him maximum pain... delicious, delirious, sharp searing agony, thrilling as a drug and just as addictive. Zhang rapped the sliding door with a knuckle and beckoned.
At the very same instant, the apartment's entrance burst open behind him and his steward stuck his head in the room. "Excellency?" he quavered in Mandarin, "I implore you. It's time to dress."
"When do we gather?" Zhang grunted.
"Within the hour, Excellency. It's very important. You must ablute. And the female must go."
Go? He'd just reached an understanding with the young round-eye. Zhang looked over his shoulder, face turning beetroot red. "Outside! I have business to attend to."
"But, Your Excellency." the steward pleaded, "You must not commit-"
Zhang sucked a huge breath. "INSOLENT DOG! GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE I HAVE YOU EXECUTED!"
The steward bowed deeply then withdrew, ruing the day he'd signed up for the gig. He thought back to how his squad-mates had all urged him to go, but it wasn't until he reached to the island that he figured out why. The joke was on him. Now, if the angry Chinaman turned up sullied from breaking the protocols, and the seers cottoned-on, then he, the steward would pay, not the VVIP.
By the time their exchange had come to a frosty end, Ally had flicked the pebbles aside and opened the door. Zhang stepped back as she edged into the room, fondling his hard on, already breathing hard with expectation. Ally swiped her fringe then jammed her fists on her hips. "Okay." she growled. "I don't give a fuck if you get off on it or not, but one false move and I'll kick you so hard in the balls you'll be wearing 'em as earrings."
Zhang almost swooned. She'd just used the words, 'kick', 'hard', and 'balls' in the very same sentence and he could hardly contain himself. This glaring young female was both angry and physical, she knew how to hurt and didn't pull her punches. A pitiless angel straight out of heaven. Bowing and scraping, he led the way to the walk-in wardrobe and pulled a beaten, brown leather suitcase out of storage. Dumping it on the bed, he snapped the catches and threw the lid open.
Ally moved closer in spite of herself, the better to see the contents of the well-travelled case. Inside she saw a collection of devices, from industrial tools to surgical instruments; pliers, clamps, haemostats and staplers, hammer, nails, handcuffs, a whip. A miniature taser with a fixed pair of tangs, chili oil, a funnel, a fifty-mil syringe. A ball gag or two, a few rolls of duct tape, crocodile clips, torniquets, a black fabric hood.
"Jesus Christ!" Ally whispered. "Were you in the boy scouts or something?"
Zhang turned away, then picked up a padded chair and placed it emphatically at the end of the bed. "You tie me." he said, "Quickly! Here! Here!"
"Tie you?"
Zhang leant past her and picked up a roll of heavy-duty duct tape. "You tie me."
Tie him up? The proverbial offer too good to be true. "Aren't you meany to be going to dinner?"
"You tie me first." Zhang said, desperate for a taste, even just a little one. Then, after dinner... hammer, nails, chili oil up the ass. Nipple cramps, cock slapping, maybe the taser. His penis began leaking at the very idea. "You beat me, short time."
Ally looked around, weighing her options. She'd been planning all along to bust out of the gymnasium and just take her chances in the desert, not yet aware she was out in the gulf, miles from the mainland. But a different solution had just presented itself. This place was an insane asylum, the whole country in fact, and there was only one sure fire way out of there. "Okay." she nodded. "You want to play?"
Zhang proffered the duct tape, nodding. "You beat me."
Ally gestured at Zhang's expensive boxers with the big, wet stain over the top of the tent pole. "Take 'em off."
Zhang dis-masted his boxers. Like passing a car crash, Ally couldn't resist taking a peek, at the short, fat slug with a big mushroom head, sticking straight out under the overhang of the billionaire's gut. His scarred, wrinkled ball sac was black and blue from recent beatings, some of them served up by Ally herself. Ally ripped a meter of grey plastic duct tape from the roll. "Sit!"
The sweating VVIP did as he was ordered, and sat, squirming with arousal at the thought of what was to come. Namely a beating. Followed by him. Kneeling at his feet, staying as far away from the dribbling erection as she could, Ally taped one ankle first, then the other, to the legs of the chair. She straightened, surveying the results, her face a portrait of concentration. Then, forearms on the armrests, Zhang watched Ally bind his wrists. No token effort, either, but wrap after wrap of the heavy-duty tape, till not even a lowland gorilla could have torn free. Next, for good measure, several more layers around his chest and the back of the chair, promising quite the ripoff once playtime was done.
Hyperventilating fit to pass out, Zhang watched Ally bend over the toy chest and rummage around inside. She returned a moment later with a length of parachute chord, and a big red ball gag, pocked with teeth marks, souvenirs of some livelier sessions. Working quickly and methodically, Ally tied the chair legs to the carved wooden foot of the bed, then took a step back, admiring her handiwork. "That should hold you." she nodded, brushing her hands.
Zhang looked up, his eyes brimming with tears. It took a special kind of woman to physically hurt a man- to really hurt him. He called them diamonds, and while this one was still un-polished, she was a gem.
"Comfortable, Buddy?" Ally asked, ticking Zhang under his trembling chin. He nodded, eyes burning with ardour. His cock was sticking straight up, while his balls lay expectant and vulnerable on the seat between his thighs.
In no apparent hurry, Ally wandered back to the suitcase and rummaged around. No knives, she noted, and probably just as well. To expose himself like this was a true act of trust, but such unbridled faith did have its limits. He was a billionaire, after all, and subject to the all-consuming envy of mere, poor mortals. She picked up the stapler, turning it this way and that, before popping off an exploratory round. It would sting, there was no doubt, but do little in the way of actual damage. Unless shot into an eye, no mean feat, especially with a moving target. Hammer? No. Once again, too blunt an instrument, both physically and metaphorically, in a situation best served by surprise.
