Peter managed a nod and a smile and melted into the crowd, peering between the heads of two onlookers as Lincoln jumped the railings of the pen and pulled the girl over to the man who had enquired of her purchase.
"Have you put a reserve on her?" the man asked.
"Now I'm not going to tell you, am I?" grinned Lincoln. "If you want to keep her out of the sale, make me an offer."
The man ran his hands up and down the young Chinese girl's legs as Lincoln held her out. Satisfied, he next checked her feet and then her teeth.
"She looks in great shape," he said. "I could do with an Oriental piece for my house, it gives the customers a bit of variety." He bent the girl over and checked her genitals were clear, then he ran his hand over her tits, squeezing her nipples as if trying to make them stiffen.
"They're awfully small tits," he told Lincoln. "Most of my clients like a girl big up top."
"She's a Chink," said Lincoln. "What do you expect? Tell you what though, she's great to beat, so sensitive, you should see how she reacts, plenty of your customers would enjoy beating her, I'll bet. Or you could put on a show."
"Once a week?" said the man scornfully.
"Twice nightly," said Lincoln. "She's tougher than she looks, believe me."
He took the girl into his arms, smacking her pert little arse none too gently and ignoring the new tears in her shining black eyes.
"Well?"
"You sure she can do a show twice nightly?
"No sweat!"
"She better be good!"
"You can take it out on her if she ain't."
"You better believe it!"
"Stand back, then, and I'll show you."
Chapter 12 – An Artistic Beating
Contributed by Rex Saviour, author of our book ERICA, PROPERTY OF REX and the story ROBIN, PROPERTY OF OGOUN (in the 3-in-1 special BOUND FOR GOOD) and BALIKPAN 1 (њ10 – mail order only)
The first thing Lincoln did was to clear a space around himself and the girl. It wasn't easy, for they all the assembled Drivers wanted a good grope of her: they were all thoroughly aroused by now and knew she would feel good: the way she shrank from their touch was an added turn-on. She seemed to have a dread of being pinched. It was not one of Lincoln's more endearing traits so far as women in his power were concerned.
"Stand back for an artistic beating."
There were plenty of cheers, but someone shouted: "Artistic beating? What the fuck's that? Artistic? Sounds like crap to me!"
"What do you mean, crap?" Lincoln was getting angry.
"Sissy, like. Namby-pamby. No big deal."
"Namby-pamby it ain't," replied Lincoln with a coarse chuckle. "I'm not bullshitting. It's where some chick what ain't done nothing wrong gets a damn good thrashing – a damn good thrashing. Just because it's artistic don't mean it can't be hard! Difference is, she don't have to have earned it, it's just for the hell of it, for fun, to make a show and give everyone who watches a good wank off."
"What, we don't get to fuck her?"
"Afterwards, maybe. If you haven't shot your load already! There'll probably be a queue, mind."
"OK," said the doubter. "Sounds good. This one done no harm but you gonna beat her, right?"
"Right."
"Then there'll be a chance to fuck her?"
"You catch on fast," said Lincoln mockingly. "Matter of fact she's right obedient these days. As good as gold she is." He shook the girl, who was struggling like a wildcat in his arms. "Just like a pussy-cat she is usually, if you like that sort of thing, she'll rub up against you and purr, but all the time you can tell that she hates it. Yes, good as gold, except she still tries to get away if she's in trouble!"
He set her on her feet, but she sank to the ground and buried her tear stained face in his crotch, her fingers frantically at work on his flies.
"She often tries to get round me that way," he laughed, slapping her hands away. "Take no notice. She knows enough English to know she's going to be beaten, that's all, and she's had plenty before, it scares the shit out of her. Like I said, she seems to be more sensitive than most and the more often you beat her the more she howls next time."
He turned to the brothel keeper. "That'll suit you," he said. "What you're going to see is what she's like after a few weeks with me. A twice nightly beating show for a month or two and she'll likely be a real stunner as a turn-on, absolute best ever, I guarantee it, and you know me, Mister Honesty."
There were plenty of sniggers at that, and the brothel keeper looked sceptical.
"Not what I heard! I reckon mostly you oversell."
Lincoln glared at him. "Shit!" he said, "I'll fucking well show you what this one's worth." He looked round. "Give us more space. She used to be in a circus, I wanna show what tricks she can do first."
Soon a little arena in the middle of the throng of eager onlookers crowding round and reaching out for her was marked out, and bright lighting set up, dangling from a couple of cranes.
"Anyone got a few bags of sawdust?"
"Sure," said one of the Drivers. "In my load."
"Spread it around," said Lincoln. "Make it more genuine. Authentic. More like the real thing."
There were jeers at his long words, but soon the sawdust was spread, making it more like a circus ring, with spectators crowding round closely. It was not very big, but very very intimate. Everyone had a great view.
Now Lincoln shoved the girl away, so that she fell in a heap of sprawling limbs in the middle of the ring. He came away from the centre of the circle, leaving the girl there. She scrambled to her knees and stayed there, alone, bowed and kneeling, naked, with her head between her knees and her long black hair down on the sawdust. Her whole body was trembling, and she was making little whimpering noises.
Lincoln clapped his hands, and slowly she raised her head, shaking out her long black hair so that it shone in the lights, then she knelt up straight and clasped her hands behind her back, straining her shoulders back to thrust out her perfectly formed breasts, which Lincoln pointed to.
"Some say these are too small," he said. "Me, I reckon they ain't half bad. They sure feel good." He twisted the nipples in his large hand, making her jump. "Anyone not tried yet?"
Several shouts of 'yes' and 'me' came from the audience.
Lincoln clapped his hands again and the girl rose gracefully to her feet, standing on tip-toe with her legs wide apart and her hands on top of her head, elbows and shoulders still strained right back, making a pathetic little keening sound.
Lincoln went up to her and hit her on the cheek, jerking her head to one side.
"Shut up, bitch!"
Immediately she became silent. She closed her eyes, but tears could be seen welling from under the lids and overflowing.
Lincoln struck her on the other cheek.
"Open your eyes."
They were very dark brown, almost black, shining always, this time with tears, in a slanted setting with long black lashes. Her features were fine, classical, very Oriental, her nose and mouth small. Her lips had been painted red, as had her nipples.
She raised her head to stare out over his head, her body stiff and fearful, the lights shining on it, displaying her beautiful smooth satiny skin glowing with a slight sheen of sweat, her shaven sex was painted gold and thrust out.
Again he slapped a cheek.
"Look at me!"
Ever so reluctantly her head came down and she flinched away as her eyes met his. His were full of sadistic pleasure, hers overflowing with fear and horror and loathing.
"There are some men who want to feel your breasts, girl. Do not move away. Look at them whilst they examine you, OK?"
Another slap to reinforce his instructions and Lincoln turned back to the audience.
"Let's have a queue," he said.
Six of the Drivers lined up, grinning and joking. The others must have felt her up before, when she was tied to the pillar.
"What you grinning about?" asked Lincoln. "This is a serious matter. There's, money involved, it affects her price. Now that's real crucial! We need your opinions about whether her tits are suitable for work in a brothel and for shows like I am making up now. So let's have a little respect, gentlemen… OK, first one, please…"