by Peter Loaf
Lady Emi stumbles barefoot through the cobbled streets, the knotted rope
between her legs hurting her worse with every step, with every breath, with
every pounding beat of her terror stricken heart.
They are forcing her to march, completely naked, through the city streets, her tender young body sexually bound and exposed for all to see. She is the enemy of the Shogun and so no man dares to speak for her.
She has tried reasoning with them, but they punished her by jerking on the knotted rope tied up between her legs and then told her to be silent or she would suffer worse punishment.
Bare, her arms lashed to a long bamboo bar that passes between her back and elbows, she cannot resist her captors. She is marched between two of them, one holding each end of the elbow bar as a third samurai walks in front, his official scowl and half unsheathed sword clearing a path through the crowd. Behind her come the rest of the ten-man goon squad, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords, their warrior faces set in stone.
Lady Emi knows that her public humiliation is intended to do two things, to cow the people into submitting to the rule of a paranoid and bloodthirsty madman and to break down her proud resistance.
The point of terror tactics is that they terrorize. She has known that, intellectually, since learning it at her mother’s knee. But now that it is her being dragged naked through the streets, it is no longer a thing of the mind alone. Her helpless body, the hemp ropes biting her in all the wrong places, her slave lust raising its ugly head, she knows in her very vulva that they will discover even her most cherished secret.
She sees faces in the crowd, faces of people who once were her friends but who now see her as one who might well turn them in.
She wonders how long before she will be screaming out the names of these people. She knows that it is only a matter of time. She knows that everyone talks in the end.
The elbow bar gives them complete control because it gives them so much leverage, so much power. They can, if she struggles too much, simply lift her feet from the cobbles, letting the tight and hurtful ropes bite into her tender body. When again they let her toes touch she knows that she will do anything she can to keep that from happening ever again.
And she isn’t even to the Shogun’s castle yet.
Suddenly a samurai wearing the livery of the Shogun’s southern army stops them. “You there, squad leader, who gave you your orders?” barks the stranger, half pulling his sword and blocking the narrow street.
The squad leader shows another two inches of his steel and replies, “Who are you to interfere with the Shogun’s orders?”
“This lady’s future husband and your last mistake.” Says the man, drawing the sword and smoothly moving into a classic attack position.
The prisoner is dragged back out of harms way while the rest of the squad draw their swords and take positions. She watches helplessly as the lone warrior faces ten well-trained swordsmen. The street, crowded until a moment ago, is now empty save a mongrel dog sniffing the corner of a tenement building.
Realizing that the narrowness of the street gives the lone man an advantage, the squad leader orders, “Hio, Genda, Naga, go around and get behind him.”
The three rearmost guards say “Hi” and run off, looking for a path between the buildings. Finding a way to the right, the three disappear down it, only to reappear a second later, stumbling back, screaming like gut-shot rabbits and studded with arrows.
The stranger laughs and says, “Never split your forces in the presence of a superior enemy.” as he strikes down the squad leader with a blow that nearly removes the man’s head. And then, before the bloody mist can settle, he spins and strikes a second man on the wrist, chopping off his sword hand as if living bone were dry kindling.
The remainder of the squad forgets their training and attack en mass, each getting in the way of the others, never noticing that the ones in the rear are dying under a hail of arrows and tiles from the roofs of the buildings on both sides of the street.
Suddenly it is over, Lady Emi lies face down on the cobbles, her body held flat by the bamboo bar which is in turn held down by her two now dead guards, one with his head caved in and the other with an arrow in his eye.
She looks up at her future husband and asks, “Who are you?”
He wipes the blood of several men off of his sword and says nothing.
Several more rebels join them and lift the dead guards off the ends of her pole, allowing her to struggle up to a sitting position. She wonders when they plan to untie her but sees no indication of that happening just yet.
Twisting against her bondage she looks up at her blood spattered savior and sees in his dark eyes a terrible purpose.
“Ok, let’s get her up and moving.” He orders, re-sheathing his sword and taking the squad leader’s position at the front.
Lady Emi squeaks in protest as two of the rebels pick up her elbow bar, forcing her to scramble back onto her feet. The man on her right reaches over with his free hand and takes a hold of her nipple, pinching it and thus getting her undivided attention. “Stay quiet and don’t worry, you will be fine.” He says, his tone soothing if his actions are not.
The reconstituted squad starts forward, still moving toward the castle. She looks from rebel to rebel, searching for answers, for reassurance, for some sign of what is happening to her.
She gets nothing but a couple of winks and a leer in return.
As the squad approaches the castle they are challenged, “Who comes?” asks a gruff voice from top of the wall.
“A traitor for the Shogun’s interrogators!” shouts the man who she’d thought was saving her. She tries to fight her bondage but her two escorts end that foolishness by once again lifting her feet from the ground.
In the massive gate before them a small shot window slides open and a second guard looks out. “Do I know you?” he says, his voice muffled by four inches of iron bound hardwood.
“We have come from General Iso, fighting the rebels in the south.” says the leader of the rebels. “He sent this traitor here so that the Shogun will know of a plot against his life.” He holds up a warrant, signed with good forgeries of the general’s chop and seal.
The eyes of the guard flick back and forth between the squad of men, all wearing the shogun’s livery and the tightly bound young woman in their midst.
And then the shot window closes and the door swings open, the guard saying, “Is she expected, or can we do a little “questioning” of our own, before we send her dow . . .n” His sentence dribbles to a stop as he feels the edge of the rebel’s razor sharp blade against his windpipe. And then he is crumpling to the floor, a ball of testicular pain, uninterested in events outside his own body. Long before he regains this interest his throat is cut and darkness falls, ending his pain forever.
The gatehouse is theirs; hopefully soon the Shogun will be in their hands as well.
The leader and her two guards march Lady Emi across the courtyard to the keep, leaving the other seven with orders to hold the gate house until relieved by the main attacking force.
Beginning to understand her roll in what is happening, Emi begins to fake distress, as if she still believes she is being taken to her doom.
At the door to the keep they are relieved of their weapons, then passed through, with directions to the dungeon.
Their next challenge comes as they are leading the bound girl into the Shogun’s throne room. A wave of the forged warrant clears the path however and the four continue deeper into the Shogun’s inner sanctum.
The Shogun’s Ideas Taster sits on his cushion at the foot of the throne platform and reads dispatches. Above him the Shogun sits, guarded by four huge samurai, armed and armored for battle.
Seeing the naked prisoner being brought into the throne room, the Ideas Taster shouts, “Guards, show these idiots the way to the dungeon!”
The leader of the rebels bows deeply and offers a sealed scroll to the
first guard to reach them. “Sir, General Iso says you alone should hear
this traitor’s confession!” Behind him the other two samurai push Emi down
to a seated position on the straw matting, forcing the pussy knot deeper,
making her grunt with the unexpected pain.
The shogun gets to his feet and motions the guard to bring him the scroll. Glancing at the seal and then breaking it he unrolls the rice paper and reads. “This woman is the Lady Asami, political follower of Lady Sugita. She was caught carrying messages in and out of the besieged city of Nagasaki. She is considered to be one of the leaders of the rebels. I am sending her to you because I consider her information to be too important to do her interrogation myself.”
Emi looks up at the shogun and then quickly looks down, afraid of the lust she sees in his eyes.
“You three have done your duty, leave her with me and go back to General Iso tomorrow with the message that I am promoting him to chief of staff for this victory over our enemies.” The shogun says, squatting before Emi and touching her nipple with a hand as cold as death. “Tell him he has earned an extra one tenth of all the rebel territory he has re-conquered.”
“We will obey your commands.” Says the rebel, backing out of the throne room, deserting Lady Emi to the mercies of the Shogun.
“Guards leave us.” The Shogun says, meeting eyes with his Ideas Taster. “No one is to enter, no matter what you might hear through the doors.”
The Ideas Taster gets up from his cushion and joins his Master standing over the helpless prisoner. “Its hard to believe. The infamous Lady Asami, coming to this end after all she has done to us.”
Lady Emi wonders if telling these men the truth will save her. She decides it will not, for her name too has been connected with the rebel cause, though in a much lower degree.
The shogun inspects Lady Emi’s bondage and says, “I have an idea how to make this little bird sing.”
He toys with her bound body letting his fingers discover her secrets, filling his nose with her scent. He pushes her over unto her back and forces her legs wide apart, enjoying the sight of her passion-swollen labia split by the hempen knot nestled between them. He bends down over her and suckles on her nipples, drawing the pleasure flesh up into hard and aching points.
“You will tell me everything you know and then die happy knowing that you have served your Master well.” He whispers, caressing her helpless body, noting with pleasure how it is responding.
“You will scream and scream but you will not die until you have told me everything.” He continues, pinching her labia tight around the knotted rope, making her suck air in reaction to the intense pain. “You will know total defeat and you will watch as I destroy everyone you love.”
Emi watches with pinpointed eyes as he unties and removes the arm bar while leaving her hands tied down to her torso harness. Working with the speed and efficiency of a lifetime of practice he then lashes her feet out to the ends of the bar, keeping her legs widely spread.
Working together with his servant he then hoists her feet into the air
and leaves her swinging, head down and helpless to resist as they retie
her arms, this time out of their way, behind her back.
The exposure of her new bondage is twice that of her old. She cannot close herself to anything; protect herself from anyone. She knows that from now on resistance will cause her pain, direct and immediate. She looks up into the Shogun’s mad eyes and knows that she will resist as long as she can, then try to give him false information. It is all she has left to give for the cause of freedom.
Behind her the Ideas Taster slides open a rice-paper screen and twisting
around, Emi finds herself looking out through an open window across rooftops
of the city.
She knows that her captors intend that her screams will be heard far and wide. She watches as the Shogun strips off his loincloth and limbers out a small whip, made of many small thongs each tipped with a diamond, his eyes locked on her helpless body.
At first it is not pain but numbness that the whip paints onto her hanging body. But the numbness fades after a moment and the pain remains, the diamonds biting into her flesh like birdshot, not piercing her skin but marking it. She begins to scream, knowing herself close to orgasm, the passion coming to shelter her from the fear and pain.
Suddenly there comes a huge tooth rattling explosion, followed by a volley of musket fire and the sounds of screaming wounded. The alarm bell begins ringing only to cut off as suddenly as it began. Emi hears shouts in the hallway outside the throne room and then the desperate silence of hand to hand combat. After a moment the doors swing open, revealing the three samurai who delivered the prisoner, now covered in blood and filled with a terrible resolve.
“Guards!” Squeaks the Shogun, caught naked and armed with only a diamond tipped pussy whip.
The Ideas Taster throws himself to the floor at the rebel’s feet crying, “I was only following orders!” even as the rebel leader’s sword whistles down and removes his head from his shoulders.
The Shogun takes refuge beside the hanging captive, ready to dodge the gore-covered blade but is careless enough to let his still hard cock get within lunging reach of her teeth. His high falsetto scream cuts off in a sputtering cough as the rebel’s sword severs his windpipe.
They are letting Emi down when the rebels come pouring into the throne room, their victory flushed faces relating the wonderful news.
“Who are you?” she asks again, looking up into his now kindly face.
“I am, as I told that squad leader in the street, your future husband.” He says, untying her and giving her the Shogun’s discarded kimono. “The day you were born your father and my father promised us to each other. You were never told because your father died that very night, murdered by the Shogun’s men.”
“Have I ever met you?”
“No, I thought it too dangerous to you. I have been fighting with the rebels in the south, but when the Lady Asami asked for me to help her come here and kill the Shogun I jumped at the chance, thinking that I might have the blessing of seeing your face once more before I died.”
“I never understood why my mother was so protective of me, so unwilling to talk to the match maker.”
“Your mother is a wonderful woman, the rebellion could not have succeeded without her.”
“My mother is a rebel?” But I thought she was with the Shogun!”
“She was a spy, Emi, able to get us some vital information that turned the tide. General Iso doesn’t know it yet, but his supply trains have been stopped. His army will have to either disperse or starve. The siege of Nagasaki is as well as broken.”
“You said Lady Asami has come here to Kyoto?”
“Regrettably The Lady Asami died on the way here, killed by the Shogun’s men as we ran the blockade. She had planed to be one being brought in, naked and shamed. But an unlucky arrow ended her life before we ever got out of sight of Nagasaki. Being the senior man, I decided to press on with the plan she had died trying to implement.”
“Oh, I get it! All you needed was a captive traitor to get you into the Shogun’s castle.”
“We had the documents and livery, we planed to use some gagged tavern serving girl as the bait, but when we got here we learned from your mother that a warrant had been issued for your arrest.”
“It was too good a chance to pass up. With you playing the part of Lady Asami our chances of success were much higher.”
“But how did you bring so many fighters here to the capital city? Who is left to defend Nagasaki?
“Only my squad and I came from the south, The rest of these rebels were organized and led by your mother.”
“It was a desperate chance but I am glad you took it.” Emi says, trying not to show how sore is her body. “Now maybe there can be some peace.”