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The Lotus Smiles
- Thread starter messaline
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RacingRodent
Consul
Episode 1 of Venetian voyages upon a sea of intrigues
Marco Polo had accompanied the Emperor Kublai Khan in his Grand Progress to the East of his realm gladly. It had been hinted that he might at last receive permission to return home. Home how he longed for those canals and the cries ringing out in good Venetian Italian. Yes the cities of China thronged with busy trade under the wise rule of their Mongol overlords but it was not the same.
Besides here he was but an exotic foreigner back home was where glory awaited. He was satisfied by now that if those pernicious, untrustworthy, grasping, deceitful, brash and boastful Genovese had sent an embassy it had come to grief somewhere in the trackless and lawless wastes that marked the long miles between Christendom and this the richest and eastern most of the Empires of the Horde.
Yet as he made his way, smiling and genuflecting at senior court officials and smiling and nodding gracious at the lesser ones who genuflected to him, he felt a rising tension in his belly. So many times had he been promised that soon he might return home, so many times had the Khan changed his mind or some turmoil, be it disease, famine, storm or war, sprung up to block his journey back.
Marco’s anxiety mounted as he realised he was being led ever deeper into the lower levels of the grim Imperial fortress that allowed the Khan and his cavalry to maintain a tenuous grip on mountain and desert country not noted for its obedience to any man’s orders. His guide led him far away from the normal haunts of court. Past the levels of the treasury and counting rooms, past the stores rooms with their stockpiles of dried foods and preserves against long siege, down, down into the dungeon levels.
Here the moans and groans of the prisoners, many driven mad by years of incarceration gave a disturbing inkling of the music of hell. If there was no sulphur on the air there was a very real smell of human ordure and human despair. Finally a long piercing scream gave Marco Polo shivers and almost made him jump out of his skin. It did not help his nerves any that the guide now opened the very portal through which this scream had sounded and bowed Marco Polo, Merchant and Emissary Extraordinaire through.
“His Majesty awaits.”
Yet it was not the squat muscular figure of the Khan that drew Marco’s eye. Like any Italian male he prided himself on the fine appreciation of the female figure and it was a fine female figure on the rack. Breasts that were pert heaved on a chest that hinted at the ribs beneath but was smoothed by strong but not over strong muscles, her belly was taut with strain and quivering with tension but that only made the more alluring, her legs and arms were stretched out twisted rope and her skin was a fine golden field with only the well groomed thatch between her thighs guarding the site of the most intimate parts.
A whip struck and the woman screamed.
“I do not know this woman” Said Marco.
“No reason you should,” Rumbled Kublai Khan, “She is, was, the personal maid to Princess Mingyu an heiress of Song but of normally reliable family. She was carrying secret messages to our enemies, I would know who for but even without that knowledge she present me with a problem.”
“How so Your Imperial Majesty?” Asked Marco.
“The finger of suspicion now falls on Mingyu, yet if I have her executed, then Chinese custom requires that for treason three generations of her family must die and her family is far too useful, likewise if she were to commit suicide or suffer an accident,” The throat slitting gesture indicated that such an accident would be quite deliberate, “Then I would face rebellion from the very people who currently ensure so much of South China remains pacific.”
“So what do you aim to do Your Imperial Majesty and how may the House of Polo be of assistance,” Marco was already dreading some long and tedious, not to mention dangerous, mission as envoy to the South Chinese who were as alike to the Northern Chinese as Italians were to Germans.
“Well you shall merely alter your travel plans a bit, I am sending you south my Guest from the West,” Marco’s heart sank, “I am having a ship outfitted for your voyage home,” His heart rose at that news, “All I ask is that you take the Princess Mingyu along and keep her safe, I shall send some funds for her maintenance but I feel your Venice should be nicely distant from our Imperial politics.” Marco’s heart sank like a rock into his boots.
“Your Imperial Majesty is too kind,” He said bowing low.
“I know,” Beamed Kublai Khan, “I was going to give you the great fat stone Buddha in the courtyard as a gift but a nice Princess is nearly as plump and much more fun.”
Some days you could really do without the Great Khan’s sense of humour.
Marco Polo had accompanied the Emperor Kublai Khan in his Grand Progress to the East of his realm gladly. It had been hinted that he might at last receive permission to return home. Home how he longed for those canals and the cries ringing out in good Venetian Italian. Yes the cities of China thronged with busy trade under the wise rule of their Mongol overlords but it was not the same.
Besides here he was but an exotic foreigner back home was where glory awaited. He was satisfied by now that if those pernicious, untrustworthy, grasping, deceitful, brash and boastful Genovese had sent an embassy it had come to grief somewhere in the trackless and lawless wastes that marked the long miles between Christendom and this the richest and eastern most of the Empires of the Horde.
Yet as he made his way, smiling and genuflecting at senior court officials and smiling and nodding gracious at the lesser ones who genuflected to him, he felt a rising tension in his belly. So many times had he been promised that soon he might return home, so many times had the Khan changed his mind or some turmoil, be it disease, famine, storm or war, sprung up to block his journey back.
Marco’s anxiety mounted as he realised he was being led ever deeper into the lower levels of the grim Imperial fortress that allowed the Khan and his cavalry to maintain a tenuous grip on mountain and desert country not noted for its obedience to any man’s orders. His guide led him far away from the normal haunts of court. Past the levels of the treasury and counting rooms, past the stores rooms with their stockpiles of dried foods and preserves against long siege, down, down into the dungeon levels.
Here the moans and groans of the prisoners, many driven mad by years of incarceration gave a disturbing inkling of the music of hell. If there was no sulphur on the air there was a very real smell of human ordure and human despair. Finally a long piercing scream gave Marco Polo shivers and almost made him jump out of his skin. It did not help his nerves any that the guide now opened the very portal through which this scream had sounded and bowed Marco Polo, Merchant and Emissary Extraordinaire through.
“His Majesty awaits.”
Yet it was not the squat muscular figure of the Khan that drew Marco’s eye. Like any Italian male he prided himself on the fine appreciation of the female figure and it was a fine female figure on the rack. Breasts that were pert heaved on a chest that hinted at the ribs beneath but was smoothed by strong but not over strong muscles, her belly was taut with strain and quivering with tension but that only made the more alluring, her legs and arms were stretched out twisted rope and her skin was a fine golden field with only the well groomed thatch between her thighs guarding the site of the most intimate parts.
A whip struck and the woman screamed.
“I do not know this woman” Said Marco.
“No reason you should,” Rumbled Kublai Khan, “She is, was, the personal maid to Princess Mingyu an heiress of Song but of normally reliable family. She was carrying secret messages to our enemies, I would know who for but even without that knowledge she present me with a problem.”
“How so Your Imperial Majesty?” Asked Marco.
“The finger of suspicion now falls on Mingyu, yet if I have her executed, then Chinese custom requires that for treason three generations of her family must die and her family is far too useful, likewise if she were to commit suicide or suffer an accident,” The throat slitting gesture indicated that such an accident would be quite deliberate, “Then I would face rebellion from the very people who currently ensure so much of South China remains pacific.”
“So what do you aim to do Your Imperial Majesty and how may the House of Polo be of assistance,” Marco was already dreading some long and tedious, not to mention dangerous, mission as envoy to the South Chinese who were as alike to the Northern Chinese as Italians were to Germans.
“Well you shall merely alter your travel plans a bit, I am sending you south my Guest from the West,” Marco’s heart sank, “I am having a ship outfitted for your voyage home,” His heart rose at that news, “All I ask is that you take the Princess Mingyu along and keep her safe, I shall send some funds for her maintenance but I feel your Venice should be nicely distant from our Imperial politics.” Marco’s heart sank like a rock into his boots.
“Your Imperial Majesty is too kind,” He said bowing low.
“I know,” Beamed Kublai Khan, “I was going to give you the great fat stone Buddha in the courtyard as a gift but a nice Princess is nearly as plump and much more fun.”
Some days you could really do without the Great Khan’s sense of humour.
To Be Continued
RacingRodent
Consul
Humour ? I had made "Crux'Humour", now I will be obliged to do "Rack'Humour" .....
So if Apple made a rack would it be an iRack?
Naraku
Draconarius
If Apple made a rack, it would be over priced, in short supply, prone to breakdowns, incompatable with other torture devises, bendable & have rounded corners.
And Samsung would have already made one that was better & cheaper.
If Apple made a rack, it would be over priced, in short supply, prone to breakdowns, incompatable with other torture devises, bendable & have rounded corners.
And Samsung would have already made one that was better & cheaper.
and while torturers queued in the street to buy one from the Apple store, you'd be able to go round the corner and buy one from Racks-r-us, no problem.
A man after my own heart
RacingRodent
Consul
A man after my own heart
You need a scapel and pincers for that and only once you have given up your confession to high treason
.
RacingRodent
Consul
Episode 2: Being the meeting of a Princess and a Princess and a problem.
“His Excellency Marco Polo of the Republic of Venice,” Announced a servant.
“Oh, my new gaoler,” Sniffed the most beautiful woman in the world, “So come to gloat?” She pouted and the effect was somewhat dispelled. Yet there was no escaping her dangerous allure, her body was tall for a Chinese but not that tall compared to Marco and thin but thin like a whip or a snake is slender. The movement is sinuous but full of power. Her features were each delicately turned as if not by the hand of nature but some divine sculptor yet there was that hint of dangerous poise. Those were not pins in her elaborate hair but fine sharp pointed dagger all too like the stilettos Marco was familiar with from his homeland.
He bowed low to the woman and swept off his hat in the finest manner of a Venetian gentlemen and obviously Venetians were the truest gentlemen the world over. “I prefer to think of myself as your Highness’s escort.”
“To exile,” Growled Mingyu putting Marco instantly in mind of the tiger that had so often appeared in his Grand Mothers embroidery and the same powerful beasts he had seen in the Khan’s menageries.
“Perhaps it would be better to think of it as adventure? After all I have made the same long journey the other way,” Marco suggested.
“You were coming to civilisation I am leaving it,” Mingyu sneered
“Ah, I see, a challenge Your Highness, well then I will take this mission as an opportunity to show that the men and the City of Saint Mark are quite as civilised as your own people, the Lion stand tall with the Tiger,” Marco smiled and for a moment something about him seemed to arrest Mingyu’s wandering gaze but then she looked away and turned to regard her room and her serving women.
“Before they took my swords away I could cut both tigers and lions into cat food, I am faster enough I can slice a lotus blossom in half as it dangles on the wind, I am not impressed by your posturing,” Mingyu sniffed.
“Give me your word of honour to come with me and I will see that you have new swords,” Marco offered.
“I could cut off your head and keep it with me if you did,” Challenged Mingyu looking him straight in the eye.
“I doubt you would do anything so discourteous, after all who else but you is there to teach the barbarians civilised decorum?” Marco smiled.
“True,” Mingyu tilted her head, “Okay I shall promise you not to cut off your head unless you really annoy me but you had better keep your promise of adventure.”
“Oh I think that can be arranged,” Marco smiled, bowed and left…well a flighty woman but they had plenty of those in Venice he could surely handle one of them.
A few days later he had plenty of chance to regret his hubris as his heart sank. His Imperial Master Kublai Khan had sent a rider instructing Marco Polo to join up with another party also bound for the West though no further than Persia.
Princess Cocacin was of high Mongol blood, a distant relative of the Khan and bound to marry a cousin of his who ruled that part of the Horde that had conquered West Asia. She was beautiful, elegant, surrounded by armed retainers and also impossibly stuck up and conscious of her status.
“I will not share a cabin!” She roared.
“There is but one royal cabin on the ship, I could give up my own cabin, I have examined it and it is quite well appointed maybe one of your Highnesses…” Marco began
“I am not taking a lesser cabin than this upstart, my blood is thousands of years old, hers is probably sired by a horse,” Sniffed Mingyu.
“Horses are strong, that is why we conquered you pig peasant people and now it is the glorious Yuan who rule,” Shot back Cocacin.
“Funny how even pigs smell more sweetly than you, your bathers are as inept as your hair dresser,” Mingyu mocked, Marco himself did not see anything wrong with either woman’s hair but it was a good job he had quick reaction, he only just interposed himself in the middle in time as the two women flew at each other.
“Enough, your Highness Cocacin in the Great Khan’s name I instruct you to return at once with your party to the Inn of the Golden Pony, Your Highness Mingyu in the Great Khan’s name I instruct you to return at once to the Inn of the Prancing Tiger,” Marco commanded firmly, suddenly well aware both women seemed to have blades in their hands and he had decided against bringing any weapon.
Cocacin sniffed and stalked off.
Mingyu however remained firmly in her place, “How dare you address her first before me?”
“She was being misbehaved so I sent her away first Your Highness,” Marco said, his voice pitched low enough he hoped Cocacin would not hear.
“Ohhhh,” Smiled Mingyu, “Oh very well, I understand the need to teach these foolish barbarians manners.”
She flounced off in her turn.
“So what shall we do your Excellency?” Asked one of Marco’s servants anxiously.
“Open a vat of wine and dip me till I stink if I know,” Said Marco Polo thumping his forehead, “But I had better think of something.”
The next day however he summoned the Princesses back to the great junk and proudly showed them the solution he had come up with. Arrayed on the foredeck was travelling yurt he had purchased from the local Mongol Governor General, he had used the Khan’s command and coin as he rather lacked sufficient substance of his own but he rather hoped Kublai would forgive him and if he did not well with luck he should be safely out at sea.
The great rounded tent would a raised pole in the centre was markedly taking up most of the deck width so the sailors had to use ratlines to pass towards the prow but if it worked he at least could hope the voyage would commence.
“Excellent, a proper dwelling for one of my estate to travel in,” Said Cocacin, “So much better than a stuffy cabin.”
“I shall of course enjoy the manifest delights of good Chinese woodwork and a proper cabin like any civilised person,” Proclaimed Mingyu, the Princesses both glared at each other but then happily led their processions to different ends of the ship.
“How many days of this?” Asked the Captain warily.
“Oh we just have to reach Persia,” Smiled Marco Polo.
“Oh Allah the joy,” The Captain rolled his eyes but at least they were on their way with the tide.
“His Excellency Marco Polo of the Republic of Venice,” Announced a servant.
“Oh, my new gaoler,” Sniffed the most beautiful woman in the world, “So come to gloat?” She pouted and the effect was somewhat dispelled. Yet there was no escaping her dangerous allure, her body was tall for a Chinese but not that tall compared to Marco and thin but thin like a whip or a snake is slender. The movement is sinuous but full of power. Her features were each delicately turned as if not by the hand of nature but some divine sculptor yet there was that hint of dangerous poise. Those were not pins in her elaborate hair but fine sharp pointed dagger all too like the stilettos Marco was familiar with from his homeland.
He bowed low to the woman and swept off his hat in the finest manner of a Venetian gentlemen and obviously Venetians were the truest gentlemen the world over. “I prefer to think of myself as your Highness’s escort.”
“To exile,” Growled Mingyu putting Marco instantly in mind of the tiger that had so often appeared in his Grand Mothers embroidery and the same powerful beasts he had seen in the Khan’s menageries.
“Perhaps it would be better to think of it as adventure? After all I have made the same long journey the other way,” Marco suggested.
“You were coming to civilisation I am leaving it,” Mingyu sneered
“Ah, I see, a challenge Your Highness, well then I will take this mission as an opportunity to show that the men and the City of Saint Mark are quite as civilised as your own people, the Lion stand tall with the Tiger,” Marco smiled and for a moment something about him seemed to arrest Mingyu’s wandering gaze but then she looked away and turned to regard her room and her serving women.
“Before they took my swords away I could cut both tigers and lions into cat food, I am faster enough I can slice a lotus blossom in half as it dangles on the wind, I am not impressed by your posturing,” Mingyu sniffed.
“Give me your word of honour to come with me and I will see that you have new swords,” Marco offered.
“I could cut off your head and keep it with me if you did,” Challenged Mingyu looking him straight in the eye.
“I doubt you would do anything so discourteous, after all who else but you is there to teach the barbarians civilised decorum?” Marco smiled.
“True,” Mingyu tilted her head, “Okay I shall promise you not to cut off your head unless you really annoy me but you had better keep your promise of adventure.”
“Oh I think that can be arranged,” Marco smiled, bowed and left…well a flighty woman but they had plenty of those in Venice he could surely handle one of them.
A few days later he had plenty of chance to regret his hubris as his heart sank. His Imperial Master Kublai Khan had sent a rider instructing Marco Polo to join up with another party also bound for the West though no further than Persia.
Princess Cocacin was of high Mongol blood, a distant relative of the Khan and bound to marry a cousin of his who ruled that part of the Horde that had conquered West Asia. She was beautiful, elegant, surrounded by armed retainers and also impossibly stuck up and conscious of her status.
“I will not share a cabin!” She roared.
“There is but one royal cabin on the ship, I could give up my own cabin, I have examined it and it is quite well appointed maybe one of your Highnesses…” Marco began
“I am not taking a lesser cabin than this upstart, my blood is thousands of years old, hers is probably sired by a horse,” Sniffed Mingyu.
“Horses are strong, that is why we conquered you pig peasant people and now it is the glorious Yuan who rule,” Shot back Cocacin.
“Funny how even pigs smell more sweetly than you, your bathers are as inept as your hair dresser,” Mingyu mocked, Marco himself did not see anything wrong with either woman’s hair but it was a good job he had quick reaction, he only just interposed himself in the middle in time as the two women flew at each other.
“Enough, your Highness Cocacin in the Great Khan’s name I instruct you to return at once with your party to the Inn of the Golden Pony, Your Highness Mingyu in the Great Khan’s name I instruct you to return at once to the Inn of the Prancing Tiger,” Marco commanded firmly, suddenly well aware both women seemed to have blades in their hands and he had decided against bringing any weapon.
Cocacin sniffed and stalked off.
Mingyu however remained firmly in her place, “How dare you address her first before me?”
“She was being misbehaved so I sent her away first Your Highness,” Marco said, his voice pitched low enough he hoped Cocacin would not hear.
“Ohhhh,” Smiled Mingyu, “Oh very well, I understand the need to teach these foolish barbarians manners.”
She flounced off in her turn.
“So what shall we do your Excellency?” Asked one of Marco’s servants anxiously.
“Open a vat of wine and dip me till I stink if I know,” Said Marco Polo thumping his forehead, “But I had better think of something.”
The next day however he summoned the Princesses back to the great junk and proudly showed them the solution he had come up with. Arrayed on the foredeck was travelling yurt he had purchased from the local Mongol Governor General, he had used the Khan’s command and coin as he rather lacked sufficient substance of his own but he rather hoped Kublai would forgive him and if he did not well with luck he should be safely out at sea.
The great rounded tent would a raised pole in the centre was markedly taking up most of the deck width so the sailors had to use ratlines to pass towards the prow but if it worked he at least could hope the voyage would commence.
“Excellent, a proper dwelling for one of my estate to travel in,” Said Cocacin, “So much better than a stuffy cabin.”
“I shall of course enjoy the manifest delights of good Chinese woodwork and a proper cabin like any civilised person,” Proclaimed Mingyu, the Princesses both glared at each other but then happily led their processions to different ends of the ship.
“How many days of this?” Asked the Captain warily.
“Oh we just have to reach Persia,” Smiled Marco Polo.
“Oh Allah the joy,” The Captain rolled his eyes but at least they were on their way with the tide.
To Be Continued
RacingRodent
Consul
Princess are some of the best
but now I've hit 'watch thread' 
jacksjg89
PROCRASTINATOR
This was before the invention if gags I suspect?
Je t'aime tous les femmes, not only princessesAh les femmes !!!
It seems that you've a great experience of the females, my squirrel ; mainly when they are .....princesses ?View attachment 150987
stragg
Magistrate
Very gently.Mais toutes les femmes sont des "Princesses", admi ....
All the women are Princesses ...
stragg
Magistrate
Really?!But she will be happy to be crucified ......