Floating World Bitten Peach Ch. 10

Niu paused, buried inside Tang's channel, and then began to pump again, slowly at first and then faster and faster, working out all of the anger he felt at the loss of Xiu. Tang lay under him, inert, no longer struggling, and when Niu let loose of his throat and moved a hand to cup the young man's chin and arch his head backward, Tang took Niu's thumb inside his mouth with no more than a whimper and gave it suck.

By the time Niu had given the erstwhile virgin his seed, Tang was moaning and sighing and his hips were moving in rhythm with Niu's thrusting pelvis.

Rising up from the tub, Niu declared, "That was satisfying, but nothing will substitute for the loss of the dead Xiu."

Ping looked up sharply. Tang wasn't dead, and it seemed that the pirate was finished toying with him. But, more important, Xiu wasn't dead. Niu apparently thought Xiu was dead, but Ping knew he wasn't. And Ping had been in the nanleshijia when Niu had been here as baoan and had lost his position because he was randy for Xiu, who had not been through the clouds and rain ceremony yet. After Niu had escaped north from the nanleshijia with the current zhaoguzhe, Shun, as his servant, Ping knew that Xiu had pined for Niu.

Ping had experienced his own lost love. The son of the cotton industrialist, who had claimed to love him but who had deserted him when he found out Ping was a jinan—and had been his father's jinan.

When he was sold back to the Cut Sleeve Nanleshijia, Ping had repeatedly been told that he had violated one of the key rules of the world of the jinan—he had made the mistake of loving a man. But Ping, even though he had been deserted by his love, rebelled against this "rule." The life of a jinan was rough and tragic and they all either died young or were turned into old, bitter men with nothing but the most servile duties ahead of them. Ping would take any chance at love rather than never having loved at all.

He knew that Xiu loved Niu. Xiu had pined for Niu for months after the baoan had left. The lives of so many of the jinan turned to tragedy, as Ping well knew, and he wished that one—just one—of his fellow cut sleeves could receive happiness.

The zhaoguzhe returned to the pavilion. "I hope that our precious servant, Tang, has satisfied your needs, sire," Shun said, his eyes downcast. He didn't want to look at the unwitting servant who he had given to Niu, although in his heart he was relieved that the young man still was breathing. Tang was silent, only half conscious and exhausted, still draped over the edge of the tub where Niu had left him. But he was alive. Shun looked at the young man with distaste, realizing that Niu had bitten his peach in the position of the dog, which was almost sacrilege in the nanleshijia. This was demeaning for Tang, but Shun hoped the young man would never know what could have been his fate.

Shun took another look at Tang—and was rewarded with another pin prick of slight disgust—when he saw Tang lift his eyes and look dreamily at Niu. A slight smile formed on the spent youth's mouth. Despite the demeaning way his peach had been bitten, the young fool wanted more from the pirate. Yet another fool to have lost his virginity to Niu, Shun thought, and roughly so—but who would gladly open his legs to Niu again if given the chance.

"He does not suffice for Xiu, no," Niu said gruffly. "But I have changed since you last knew me. If a virgin has pleased me, I will lay with him again. If you give Tang to me to take back to my ship and dally with, I will not further show my displeasure for the loss of Xiu. But I am still wild with grief that he is beyond the pale."

Fearing the pirate captain's wrath, Shun reluctantly agreed to give him Tang. He tried his best not to look at Tang, but he could not help doing so, and, as he knew would be the case, Tang was now looking well pleased.

The zhaoguzhe left the pavilion to summon Wangan to prepare Tang for travel.

This left Niu and the semicomatose Tang alone with Ping.

Understanding that Niu loved Xiu as Xiu loved Niu—and that Niu would not reject Xiu just because Xiu was no longer a virgin—and driven by his bitterness over how a jinan was supposed to see love of a jinan for a man, Ping stopped singing and said softly, not even meaning Niu to hear him, "Xiu is not dead."

But Niu heard him. "What is that you have said, singer?"

"Xiu is not dead. He is here in this nanleshijia—and very much alive. I can take you to him," Ping said in a stronger voice.

When they reached the storage room in the west wing, Niu still naked, not having robed in his excitement at being taken to Xiu, beat down the door that locked Xiu away. Ping stepped back, as the two lovers, in instant recognition, rushed into each other's arms like two bulls fighting over a cow. They kissed wildly as Niu tore at Xiu's robes. Still standing, Niu pushed Xiu's body against the wall, Xiu climbed Niu's hips with his legs, and Niu quickly was fucking Xiu in long, insistent, deep thrusts.

Ping returned to the pavilion where Tang had been ravished. Wangan was there, drying and clucking soothing noises at the trembling body of Tang, no longer in the tub.

"The pirate is not here," Wangan said sharply to Ping as he reentered the pavilion.

"He is gone, back to his ship," Ping said, knowing for a certainty that this would be true as soon as the two lovers had reached their initial explosion. And Ping knew that Xiu would be going with Niu.

"Back to his ship?" Tang raised his head and plaintively whispered. "But he said he was going to take me with him."

And, looking at the crushed expression on Tang's face, Ping too now knew that the mystique of Niu continued. Every virgin he conquered wanted more of him.

Shun entered the pavilion at that moment, and upon hearing the news that Niu was gone, his face showed the same utter disappointment as Tang's did.

The zhaoguzhe, Ping thought, even he remains under the spell of Niu.

* * * *

Not more than an hour later, the alarm bell was ringing at the entrance of the nanleshijia. Shun, Rong, and the jinan and servants were slow to react, as they were still reeling from searching for Niu and not finding him—and then discovering that Xiu was gone as well. It would not have mattered if they were on full alert, though. The nanleshijia was quickly overrun with the crew of the Jin fighting ship.

The raiders of the Jin ship had arrived earlier than expected and had arrived randy, having heard the tales of pleasure their hungmao captain and gold-haired first mate had told of their visit to the Cut Sleeve Nanleshijia.

The gold-haired monster grabbed Shun by the wrist and threatened his life if he did not reveal where Bolin was being kept. Out of fear for his master, Rong, told the gold-hair where he could find the jinan who was still recovering from the kueilo's last visit.

The gold-hair handed Shun over to two burly sailors, with another set taking Rong, and both were floored and double fucked where they had stood. Both Wangan and Tang were back in the tub of water, one draped over one end and the other over the other, each with a sailor pumping their asses.

The hungmao was standing before Ping who had returned to his tatami mat and his song and lute while the others of the house had been frantically and unsuccessfully searching for Niu and Xiu.

The Jin boat captain smiled cruelly at Ping, shrugged out of his clothing, and grabbed his massively erect yang chu in his hand.

Ping had played his music for the hungmao and Xiu during Xiu's clouds and rain initiating ceremony and had seen the foreigner's body and yang chu in all of their magnificence. He had heard Xiu moan for the hungmao as he had moaned for no one else when Ping was playing for Xiu while he entertained a client. And Ping knew how deeply Xiu had fantasized about this foreign devil's prowess when he had returned to his ship.

Resigned to his lot in life and how few useful years he had left in his profession—and already torched by love—Ping smiled back at the hungmao, opened his robes, took up a pillow, and laid back on the tatami mat, with the pillow under the small of his back. He lifted and spread his legs.

The hungmao came to him quickly, reached under Ping's legs and spread his buttocks cheeks, at the same time turning Ping onto his belly but elevating his pelvis and putting the singer on his knees. Mounting Ping's hips in the position of the dog, the hungmao placed the bulb of his staff at Ping's opening, and began to push.

Ping panted and moaned, wondering how Xiu was able to endure this, knowing that he couldn't. But then he could, and the hungmao was plowing him deep. Ping groaned and cried out in pain melding into pleasure, the most possession he'd ever felt, and began to move his hips in consort with the hungmao's thrusting pelvis and to work the hungmao's yang chu with the undulating muscles of his channel walls. The hungmao gasped and laughed and began pumping in earnest.

Ping could hear the plaintive wailing of Bolin in his faraway room, having been found in his sick bed, still there from the last brutal assault on his body by the gold-haired kueilo. But Ping didn't care. He was receiving the clouds and rain of a lifetime. If he were to die now, he would not care.

But Ping was not to die now. The debauchery coming to a close, the sailors were choosing their captives. The gold-hair was striding toward the nanleshijia's entrance with an unconscious Bolin slung over his shoulder.

The hungmao gave the command to fire the pavilions, and sailors had already started doing that. The hungmao, however, fucked on. Ping had come twice for him and had maneuvered the kueilo into the position of the beaten dog, the hungmao still penetrating him from behind, but Ping taking his weight on his chest, spreading his arms wide, and hanging his ankles on the hungmao's shoulders, while the kueilo captain stood between his thighs and thrust downward. This gave both more pleasure and the hungmao even more depth inside Ping.

At the last possible moment, after lathering Ping's insides with his cum, the hungmao laughed and rose stepped back from Ping, causing the singer to collapse into the pillows. For an instant, Ping thought he'd be left there to burn, but then the hungmao reached down, picked Ping up—with Ping reaching out and grabbing his lute as he was being raised—and slung Ping over his shoulder.

The crew of the Jin fighting ship was gone from the burning nanleshijia compound as quickly as they had appeared.

Shun and Rong were both among those left behind. They struggled up and stumbled out of the burning pavilion. Pulling themselves together, they began organizing an effort to save whatever of the other pavilions could be saved.

The next morning Shun was standing out on the deck on the cliff overlooking the bend in the Yangtze. He had his back to the smoldering remains of his compound. His mind was assessing what he had left in terms of jinan, servants, and pavilion space. The raiders had not found the house's treasure store. It obviously had been other treasure they were randy for.

Rong had been sent to the prefecture capital at Yangzhou to inform the Duke of Shi of the debauching by the foreign devils. But for the Cut Sleeve Nanleshijia, at least, any military response to the foreign raid would be too little, too late.

The Jin fighting ship was out there, taunting the people of the Middle Kingdom. Shun could see the masts of the giant ship near the mouth of the Yangtze. Not wanting to look to where who knows what was happening to his lost jinan, Shun looked up river. He saw that the pirate ship of Ming Lei, who he knew as Niu, was sailing back down the river toward the mouth of the Yangtze. By now Shun had guessed that Niu had found Xiu and had taken him away to his ship. Shun also surmised that Xiu had gone willingly. He could not fault Xiu. If Niu beckoned to Shun, even now, Shun would go with him too.

With a jolt, Shun realized that the pirate ship was headed for the Jin fighting ship. His first thought was to descend to the dock and to try to signal Niu's ship somehow that he was sailing into the arms of a foreign fighting ship of immense size and power. Shun had no idea who would win in a battle between these two.

He started to move toward the top of the stairs down the side of the cliff, but then he stopped. He realized that he really didn't care. All he really cared about was the welfare of his jinan—and most of them were beyond his help now. He sighed, thinking of the old saying that jinan were lucky if they died young, because their glory came early, flared for a few short years, and then it was all emptiness after that. So, the lucky jinan died young. Most of them died tragically.

Shun turned his face away from the river and walked slowly back into the ashes of the nanleshijia. Whatever drama was about to be played out at the mouth of the Yangtze was beyond his control—or his care.

-FINI-