• Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.

Night-time in China (the Mission)

Go to CruxDreams.com
Well, that story of a french christian Mission assaulted by Boxer's uprising starts the day where begins the "55 days of Pekin".
Warning, you guess what Boxers did to women...not for fainted hearts.
I got a big push from Eulalia who polished my rough translation to obtain a more idiomatic text.

You'll get a new chapter each day of the next 2 weeks and the complete story with illustrations at the end

Night-time in China (the Mission)

Chap 1: Along the Yang tse Kiang

The river lazily unwound its curls in the quiet torpor of the afternoon. Its peaty waters seemed to digest the slightest rustle of the drought-streaked leaves, as if waiting for the next monsoon to awaken.

A burst of mischievous laughter, fresh as the dew of dawn, ran through the rushes, swayed by the languid current.

Mademoiselle Sentis lifted a cautious head over the fringe of the bulrush-beards. She was very hot in her tight corset, which highlighted more than it concealed her abundant bosom of beautiful « plant of Provence ».

She rested on her elbow, seeming to think for a moment, then she began to undress with a determined air. She giggled as she threw her panties at Keiko's face, who looked at her in amazement. She saw herself two months earlier saying, "Yes, my Reverend Mother, I promise! I swear! I shall be very careful to keep my distance from the natives. Yes, they cannot understand everything. Yes, I know, I shall take care of myself too, that's a promise,” before, balanced on the footboard of the train, she planted a quick kiss on the forehead of Mother Superior Aldeberte, who had practically brought her up in their small community of Jouarre.

There was a smile on her face, fragile at first at this recollection of her youth, then warm, turning to Keiko, the young novice she was in charge of catechising. Her friendship for the young Chinese girl orphan with the opal forehead had turned insidiously into something more sensual, something she that had already been experiencing for two years already - in a platonic way - with her best friend, ever watched as they were in the oppressive enclosed life imposed by the discipline of the sisters.

Today, she felt free from all these taboos, a dizzying disruption provoked by a feeling of power and freedom had seized her.

Keiko's puzzled look at the top of her thighs irritated her for a moment. Without emotion, she her big, thick, dark bush, which only thinned out just her navel, with the barely pubescent fuzz of her new friend.

She crossed her legs and continued reading aloud. From the "infernal cupboard" of the library of the Oratorian Brothers in Juilly, in Seine et Marne, she had helped herself to the Handbook of Behaviour for Little Girls by Pierre Louÿs, before her departure for this Mission in distant China.

She resumed the verse, humming:

“I don't like how Alice when she's on heat lifts up her lingerie,
Showing her dark red, hardened clitoris, ”

Without her realising it, her hand had landed on Keiko's thigh.

The beige linen tunic had been yawning open for a long time, and it seemed to Mademoiselle Sentis that the long tips of the small but very well-formed breasts were protruding ever more under the blouse.

Keiko set her forehead tenderly on the top of Martine Sentis' thigh, chasing away a butterfly that was gorging on her friend's pearls of perspiration.

Mademoiselle Sentis gently stroked the long braid that had curled over her thighs. She resisted the urge to tighten it between her legs as if it were something else, that thing about which the maidservants of the Mission talked with giggles, and of which she had even seen drawings that made her blush and tremble all at once.

She continued her chant:

“Long as a dog’s prick, straight as a monkey’s,
And sighs - Ah my dirty dyke! Give us a lick here! ”

She felt Keiko's hand slip slowly drop down her thigh, and a sharp contraction siezing her. Keiko straightened up, vaguely frightened and ashamed, but Martine reassured her in a soft breath, placing a finger on her own mouth. She took the back of her neck in the palm of her hand and slowly brought their faces closer.

They gazed at each other for a long time, making sure to engrave on their memories this moment of perfect, forbidden happiness, far from the world. Their virgin lips clumsily sought each other for a few moments then swiftly traversed their burning bodies, swept by brief but intense convulsions. Their hands sank into the tips of their young breasts hardened by the caress of their hair.

At the same time, they found their flesh buds erect, but Keiko had to use her fingers to keep the access to the very musky-tasting flower at the tip of her tongue clear. Mademoiselle Sentis, on the other hand, could wander freely around her large, fruit-fresh lips, so delicate that she would have liked to bite them, barely adorned with a few long, smooth hairs, through which her own tongue slipped without difficulty.

They patrolled through their intimate parts with their fingers, their noses, their tongues, with all the frenzy of hungry young bodies before coming together, their sinews harmoniously plucked in an echo of their own pleasure. Then they rested, exhausted, lying side by side, hands trembling, hands that still sought one another. The awakening breeze beneath the leaves of the great mangrove tree did not cool their oozing skins. After a few moments, they straightened up at the same time, and kissed, stroking one another's hair. They fell back again, determined to take their time to soak up their feminine scents, to dart their tongues into each other's narrow slit, and - supreme audacity - to push their fingers into all their orifices at the same time.

Outside the German legation, Minister Plenipotentiary Von Ketteler was waiting with an impatient expression for the rickshaw which was to take him to Princess T'seu-hi's imperial palace. He sponged his rubicund face with a fine Baptist handkerchief and raised an impatient cane to hail his coolie. He demanded that the man practically scrape against what served as a sidewalk before stepping up onto the footboard and barking his marching order, like the former Prussian soldier he was.

The coolie fought his way through the teeming crowd, which showed no willingness to make way into in this very busy trading area where the market stalls spread out into the middle of the roadway. Two naked-chested Chinese, with very long pigtails down their backs that proclaimed their membership in the “Justice and Concorde” society, or "Closed Fist" sect, had imperceptibly drwan near to the rickshaw, which they were now following very closely. Von Ketteler did not see them at first, overwhelmed by the excellent pheasant his cook had prepared for him, the cries of the moving, colourful crowd, and the pestilential pong of the open sewers.

He didn't wake up until he suddenly heard the yells of the crowd being harangued by the Boxers. He felt a small shock when the coolie dropped the shafts of the rickshaw and fled away. There were more than fifty in front of him now. He instantly understood that he was doomed, and curled up in the back of his seat, hiding behind his top hat, in a ridiculous attempt not to see the sabre that was looking for his soft belly.

Mother Superior Marie Arou gazed with almost maternal tenderness at the freshly shaved neck of the young seminarian. Brother Rémi Isore looked up from his scriptures and said, “No, Reverend Mother, don't say anything. Don't tell me yet that I work too hard.”

“But no my son, I'm not going to scold you. But still, look at our Martine, how happy she is, how she found her way among us by edifying these creatures of God. Sometimes it seems like the world scares you a little?”

The young man, with fine features but of a manly beauty very unlike that of most of his classmates, whether sickly or feigned, blushed discreetly. He was very sensitive, without admitting it, to the charms of the mature woman as desirable as was the Reverend Mother Marie. When she got started on lecturing him, inflating her proud maternal bosom, he had to turn away like a child caught in mischief, not because of what she said to him, but because ungodly thoughts risked painfully provoking his member.

To get a little break, after tugging his very thin little blonde goatee, which irresistibly evoked a Christ painted by Caravaggio, he went to the telegraph which linked the little Mission of Tchou-Kia-Ho to the rest of the world.



Top
 
Chapter 2 - A Night of Anxiety



Hand in hand, Martine and Keiko skipped under the leaves to the rhythm of a childish nursery rhyme that they hummed in their clear voices with contrasting tones. In this luminous twilight the multicolored flowers stood out which they had sprinkled on their hair to match the disorder of their costumes, and to conceal the scent of their young, full bodies.



At the end of a shady clearing, as they took a left turn towards their village, they saw above a hill opposite a thick column of smoke rising, it was from the direction of their little sister Mission, of Ou-Y.



Slightly taken aback, they exchanged a worried look for a brief moment, before speeding up their pace.



A few moments later, they rejoined the road which linked the two villages and gazed with amazement at a long column of refugees who were pulling or pushing cattle and wagons. The tearful women mostly had their clothes torn, especially those who were young, the men had serious faces and tight jaws. Even the children, looking exhausted and lost, were not playing. The cohort walked silently through the swirls of dust, which the sun no longer fully penetrated.



Keiko grabbed the arm of one of the ghosts, an old woman who seemed to have kept some resources. She began a long story which Keiko partially translated for Martine.



“After a real bombing, the Boxers have taken over the Mission. Having killed people in the streets, the attackers entered the church, full of Christians. At the sound of gunfire, the women had started to panic: Father Mangin had shouted "Stay in your places, a little more time and we shall all be in Heaven!" Fathers Mangin and Denn remained seated at the altar, facing their Christians and exhorting them to die well. The Boxers were shooting into the crowd. "



“A second panic was about to break out when Father Denn, in his powerful voice, sang the 'Confiteor' ('I confess ...' in Chinese, and everyone responded admirably. When the voices died down, Father Mangin repeated the general absolution, under fire. A woman, the wife of administrator Chou, separated from Père Mangin by the communion rail, had stood to make a shield for him with her body. Shortly before ten o'clock, a bullet hit this courageous woman at the communion rail, Father Mangin was soon hit too, Father Denn was injured in his turn. But the two Fathers were to perish in the fire ”.



“Around eleven o'clock the reed mats which formed the roofing-thatch ignited. Soon the church was filled with thick smoke that was suffocating the survivors. The men jumped out through a window in the sacristy. The enemy was waiting for them, and they perished by the sword. At that time there were some who apostasised: it was enough to shout "Pei chiao! I renounce my religion!" and they were spared. But then all the young women were raped in front of their children and their husbands, those who resisted were cut to pieces with swords.”



The troop of refugees entered the little Mission. Martine and Keiko confirmed to Mother Marie the message that Brother Isore had just picked up on his telegraph. After having ensured that the column of refugees could be properly accommodated in the shelter on the premises of the Mission, she called all the faithful to a "vespers of the dead" , except the women whose state of shock required that they stay resting in the infirmary.



At the end of the service, she invited all the pious regular communicants, with the most challenging words of encouragement that she had ever uttered, to return to their homes in anticipation of the terrible events they were to experience the next day.



She inspected for one last time the solid oak doors of the last bastion of Christianity in the region, and enjoined her little escort to pray with her, before returning to the administrative office of the Mission accompanied by Brother Isore.



Martine and Keiko went towards the sisters' dormitory on the far side of the cloister enclosure. When they passed beyond the glow of the great torches that were to light the courtyard all night, just beyond the fruit press, Martine suddenly grabbed Keiko by the wrist and pulled her aside. Gesturing, she pointed to the belfry of the church, and went on pulling her. Despite the dramatic tension that had set in recently, Keiko giggled and nodded. They went around the church, majestic enough to receive five hundred faithful, the fathers who founded it had grand visions. Martine had the key to the sacristy to make all the preparations early for the daily mass.



She did not fumble, although in complete darkness, in finding the door which led into the bell tower, but playfully sought out the secret slot of Keiko, who was terribly afraid in the sepulchral darkness, and she made her climb the staircase with gentle pressure on her wet lips.



They settled just under the shutters, and lay down ready to be bathed by the full moon. Their bodies, quickly stripped naked, glistened in the almost dazzling light. They were not satisfied with their bodies, they gazed at each other for a long time before embracing.

In the office of the small Mission, Marie Arou leaned over Brother Isore's shoulder to read aloud the message she had given him to telegraph.

“The events happening here are bound to alarm you, so I do shall not hide them from you.
The telegraph must have informed you of the massacre of two of our Fathers in Ou-Y, 6 hours from here. Everywhere north of the Mission is in flames and blood; unhappy fugitives are arriving whose houses have been burned; the dead are numerous and who knows how many missing!“

The feeble glimmer of the candle forced her to lean more than she wanted on the young catechist's shoulder.

“If we lack human help, we still have God and our trust in Him. We came here for His cause: our foundations, all our works, exist only to make Him known and to serve this people. Will He allow the loss of so many men and so much work? Even if it is so, we shall bless Him. And those of us who escape ruin, or those who will come to replace us, will start again with the same courage, and the with same confidence in God. ”

She realized that her generous bosom, which she was so often ashamed of, was resting on Brother Rémi's shoulder and arm. She resisted her first instinct to pull back suddenly, fearing to attract his attention when he seemed to have noticed nothing, and she continued reading, in a less confident voice:

“In this village, in addition to the five Christians who live here, we have at least three hundred refugees. We are building a bulwark; we are going to buy stocks of food, gunpowder and other ammunition for an attack which, humanly speaking, cannot fail to take place. We will defend ourselves as long as we can; if God does not give us the victory, we shall end up slaughtered or burnt to the last one of us.”

The friction of her breasts had increased imperceptibly, and she realised that Rémi had indetectably moved his arm to ease the placement of her chest in the hollow of his shoulder. She closed her eyes, and her breath quickened as she dared not move. She cleared her throat before continuing:

“May God's will be done! I offer the sacrifice of my life for the salvation of souls and for the good of all my family. If you learn of my death, pray for me, and thank God for deigning to choose our family, for asking us to make this sacrifice.”

A warm moisture, which she had practically forgotten existed, began to ooze insidiously between her tightened thighs. Fearing to have her trouble revealed, she continued abruptly:

“My beloved brothers and sisters, I thank you for the affection you have always shown me. I beg your forgiveness for any troubles I may have caused you. Whatever happens to you, remain good and faithful Christians, worthy of our beloved parents.

I bid you farewell, embracing you with all my heart, and blessing you all in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

Fiat !



Wholly yours in Our Lord,


Marie Arou ”​



Almost tipping over the candle-holder, she withdrew to the back of the room, without managing to lose sight of Brother Rémi's frantic look of despair.
 
Chapter 3 - The fall of the Mission

Martine blinked under the bite of the sun. But that wasn't what woke her up. Nor the foul stench of the pigeons' droppings. She was searching her misty mind for what had roused her when she heard a huge clamour beneath her. Keiko was already on her knees when she lifted herself on one elbow and put her head under the shutters that completely concealed them from the assailants.

Boxers were still to entering the courtyard, stepping over the big gate that had been thrust down by battering rams without even waking them up. They were massing in front of the veranda of the main building.

Marie Arou came out with a slow but determined step, ahead of Brother Rémi and the three young Chinese maids who looked after the small Mission. She seemed to be trying to protect them under her wing, standing erect, very dignified in her immaculate habit, as if she was ready to undergo her martyrdom without faltering. She was the very embodiment of civilization in the face of the deep darkness, posed proudly on the carefully polished wooden floor, the little gingham curtains on the windows forming for her a kind of halo.

Martine took Keiko's hand and huddled instinctively against her, although the sun had begun to heat the zinc of the shutters and the copper of the huge bell dedicated to Saint Fiacre.

One of the most terrifying of the Boxers stepped forward. With his skull shaved, except for his very thick long pigtail, very muscular from the practice of his martial arts, he emanated an incredible aura of cruelty from features made even coarser by a thick moustache drooping into fangs.

He had nothing special to say that Martine didn't already know. He turned to his men and harangued them in their language, evoking a cascade of loud laughter. Six of them came forward with their antediluvian carbines slung over their shoulders. Other barbarians climbed the steps of the porch, pushing back Brother Isore [query, Isidore? I only find Isaurus as one of a group of Greek martyrs, obscure even in the Orthodox Church], and falling upon the Mother Superior.

Marie Arou was immediately seized and her veil and tunic torn off her. She was thrown on her knees and her hands tied behind her back, completely naked, her ankles tied and her thighs, clenched together in a desperate attempt to rob all these savages of the sight of her femininity. She was promptly put back on her feet and brought to the foot of the telegraph pole in the centre of the courtyard. A rope already thrown over the gallows was awaiting her. It was wrapped around her wrists, and two Boxers brutally lifted her off the ground, her arms pulled back in an extraordinarily painful contortion which made her full, firm bust stand out astoundingly.

The crowd was mute, Remi Isore's throat was tight, as he stepped forward and received a rifle butt in the belly that doubled him over before he collapsed in the dust.

For a game, her executioners had left the Reverend Mother wearing the pendant in the form of a cross around her tall neck, and now the chief grabbed it, saying in bad french, "And now we'll see how your sacred amulet protects you from our bullets!"

Mary murmured very quickly as she closed her eyes, "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit. May my death be swift."

Meanwhile, some men were ready with muskets. The chief had said he would not compete with them, he would go and stand in front of Marie to judge their shots. The boxers selected for the competition lined up fifty paces away. One of them, at a signal from the chief, moved away from the group by about ten paces. It was he who had the honour of beginning the shooting contest. The unfortunate Mother Superior offered him her right flank as his target. Slowly, the barbarian raised the barrel of his ancient musket and shouldered.
Not one of his muscles moved as he aimed.

Then it was like a cannon shot, preceded by a little puff of smoke as the flint-spark found the fuse.
The low-velocity muzzle bullet grazed the swollen point of the right breast. A scream. A drop of blood.

Already the Boxer had recharged and aimed again. But this time he missed the goal completely. A third time he was not much luckier. The lead ball went under the breasts, slightly abrading the woman's torso. Furious, he left his place.

Another one came along. This one first carefully chose his wad and wick, charged the gun, took aim, lowered the weapon, moved a step, and finally aimed again and fired. Marie uttered a loud cry of pain. The top of her right breast had been seriously torn. The second bullet slightly increased the size of the furrow already dug, proof of the skill of the shooter. Marie shuddered violently under the second impact, turning like a spinning top, splashing the ground with a small shower of blood.

The third bullet went deeper into the breast, which it penetrated from side to side, distorting it for a brief moment. Marie threw out a roar of anguish as she twisted in her bonds. She was beginning to sob and groan, trying to press her shoulders forward as she tucked her bust in, in the vain hope of protecting her fragile mammaries.

Six more Boxers had still to shoot. The third and fourth each found the base of the right breast once, and the nipple of the left breast once, which was carried away in a small geyser of blood. Marie Arou was immediately convulsed. She intoned an incoherent psalm, her chin drooping to her chest. The sensual rocking of her body had become a dance of jerky agony.

The fifth was evidently a well-known marksman. He contemplated without taking aim the magnificent body that was trembling in the overwhelming sun. He waited for Mary to raise her head to look at him before stepping back and firing, almost without aiming, and his bullet passed through the delicate organs that jumped together on impact.

At the second shot, having moved one step to the right, the bullet passed through the exact centre of the already damaged left breast, which opened like a ripe fruit. A pool of blood began to spread out at the feet of Mary, who was in a state of shock. Her plaints rose piercingly, and the remains of her mutilated breasts, lifted by each sob, hung miserably.

The last Boxer stepped forward. His first two shots found their target. The unfortunate woman's blood ran abundantly over her chest and stomach, dripping down her thighs and legs. At times she was twisting in pain, the tension and strain in her nerves and muscles could be seen, tearing her. But the ropes that tied her up were strong, and she remained sagging ever more after each effort.

The last bullet gone, the Boxer had aimed exceptionally well, and the two already badly damaged breasts were pierced through and through, seeming almost literally to explode on impact. A lava of raw flesh mixed with white and yellowish secretions now remained in place of what had been a proud and opulent bosom.

Brother Isore cried out his sorrow, a cry that mingled with Marie's howl of suffering. The chief came forward to the body in pain. He raised the tip of the barrel of his revolver to raise the tear-washed forehead. He stared for a few moments at the beautiful green eyes of the Mother Superior before pulling the trigger. The nape of her neck seemed to bounce back before the pacified face of an admirable servant of God fell for the last time.
 
Chapter 4: The martyrdom of Brother Isore - Pleasure

Martine and Keiko both had put their hands to their mouths to stifle the cries that could not have failed to reveal their presence.

Below, the three young maids were consoling Brother Rémi, whose desperate sobs echoed strangely on the walls of the enclosure, amplified by the silence of the crowd of Christian refugees.

The Boxers gazed in amazement at this man's desolation for a being who was worth far less than a horse in their eyes. One of them, scarred, thin and small, came over to whisper a few words in the chief's ear. The latter responded with a big guffaw before nodding. His second-in-command quickly relayed his orders with a few guttural, chopped sentences.

A group of Boxers walked around the courtyard to find beams strong enough to erect crosses, while ten or so mounted into the porch of the veranda.

Martine threw herself back while Keiko had suddenly closed her thin hand on her wrists.

The Boxers extracted Brother Isore from his defensive wall of maids with slaps and belts. In a concert of high-pitched screams, the pretty young girls pulled back, crying, and huddled together against the railing. Shan and Tiu, the two youngest, were orphans and sisters, sturdy peasants aged eighteen and nineteen, who had lived since their childhood in the Mission which had saved them from certain death. They were not strictly speaking beauties, with their oddly flat noses, but their fresh complexions and graceful, slightly chubby, young bodies made them desirable, very much lusted after by men.

Ging-li, the oldest, with a very long plait which betrayed a bourgeois origin, was a tall, mature and very beautiful woman, with a large, aquiline nose, big deep black eyes under long eyelashes, who was still nursing her child that she was raising alone. They had been saved from wolves during a trip thanks to the sacrifice of her husband, and they had been hosted by the community for the past two months.

The Boxers all together gave a roaring cheer. In a barn at the back of the dormitories they had discovered wood as well as the carpenter's workbench. In a few minutes, they had made coarse crosses under the resigned gaze of the crowd of Christians, who needless to say were praying silently.

Carrying four crosses, two by two at each end, the Boxers reached the center of the courtyard where four holes were deeply dug in the ground by their brothers-in-arms.

When the sinister instruments of torture had been erected, the chief of the rebels gave a curt command.

The four rebels who were holding Brother Rémi firmly by the waist and the wrists, suddenly lifted him up in the air and took him on his last trip.

Despite the resolutions of courage and firmness that he had forged to prove himself worthy of Mother Marie, his body rebelled briefly at the idea of the torture that awaited him.

He was, thank God, too solidly supported for his tremors to be noticed, and he calmed down very quickly, aware that his attitude has to help strengthen the courage of the small community.

He allowed himself to be stripped entirely without resistance, while his executioners hoisted him on to the most solid cross, his wrists and ankles bound with coarse rush twine in the exact position of Christ.

A slight murmur ran through the crowd, because Brother Rémi exhibited, in the glory of his nudity, an athlete's body whose apollonian vigor underlined the exceptional dimensions of his virile member.

Not even the Boxers best endowed by nature could compete with this astonishing appendage, the cause of so much embarrassment for Brother Rémi, who sometimes had to wear compression bandages in the spring.

The Boxers were unhappy to be mocked in their warlike virility by a man in a monk's habit, but at least the torture chosen by the chief would prove to be well chosen and extremely spectacular!

Martine and Keiko were breathless at the sight of the impressive member, both of them wondering how they would have felt if they'd experienced it. Imperceptibly, their naked bodies had moved closer together, and Martine's thigh passed over Keiko's.

Brother Rémi was enduring a real ordeal, not so much because of the cruel biting of the leather ties, which digging deep furrows in his ankles, but because of the utter shame that was overwhelming him. He was nailed naked to this cross, to exhibit his secret parts in front of the women and children whom he had taught the catechism every day. In his feverish mind, he imagined the crowd could detect on his belly the trace of the nocturnal pollution which had assailed him after his so fleeting carnal contact with the Reverend Mother Marie.

He was writhing in his bonds when he heard the Boxer chief give a brief order to his men. Regardless of their frightened cries, the insurgents dragged the maids in front of Brother Rémi, while stripping them of their tunics. They threw the girls onto the ground like sacks of grain, where they remained prone for a few moments, sobbing, trying in vain to conceal their poor nudity with their hands, while trying to shake off the dust that coated their backs and their limbs.

The Boxer chief harangued them with crude words that made them blush. Martine didn't understand, but Keiko whispered a few words to her that made her eyebrows rise in disbelief.

As none of the maids stood up, the Boxer chief took a whip from his belt and whisked it across Ging-Li's shoulders. The beautiful young serving-maid stood up, staggering a little, her hands first arranged in a conch around her breasts and on her vulva, before releasing them hesitantly as she realized the futility of her instinctive behaviour.

With a heavy step, she slowly approached Brother Rémi, until she touched him. She hesitated for a few seconds, when brief orders followed by a new whiplash struck her.

She knelt in a slow motion, as if her will no longer belonged to her. In a touch that electrified them both, her hands found the hips of Brother Rémi, rediscovering the ritual of love that she had so loved to lavish on her dear husband. She tilted her head and discovered, huddled in the hollow of her broad breasts as a nurse, a life with youthful beauty, but much more developed than that of her husband. She pulled back slightly, now less certain of being able to welcome it into her mouth. She held pressed a few moments between her breasts the glans, whose velvet foreskin pleasantly tickled the long tits on her very brown breast.

Martine took Keiko's hand to put it on her mount. Her heart was beating wildly at the sight of this swollen sex. She wanted so much to be in the place of the servant, to be able to touch the huge club of flesh, so strongly that her projecting clitoris was hurting, she felt the need to be relieved by an orgasm.

Ging-Li circled the warm, pleasantly smelling glans between his lips. Her head swung up and down for a few moments, very gently, while the crude, salacious laughter of the barbarians broke out, in the midst of an dumb-struck crowd, among which the women were modestly looking away out of respect for Ging-Li.

Ging-Li's tongue soon added its delicious torment, slowly encircling the gaping meatus, then wriggling along the plump neck.

Brother Rémi came very quickly with a long spray that surprised Ging-Li, used to her husband having better control.

Brother Rémi was divided between the ecstasy that this woman's caress had given him, which he thought was a secret that only the prostitutes frequented by some of his fellow seminarians possessed, and the profound humiliation of having revealed the excitement of his senses to a congregation of Christians.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Chapter 5: The Martyrdom of Brother Isore - the suffering

Martine had orgasmed at the same time as him.

When she straightened up, she was surprised to see that the Boxers were kicking Shan into the exact spot Ging-Li had moved away from.

The two virgins' romantic experiences were limited to a few touches, and only their willingness to do so could help them perform the mind-boggling act that was now imposed on them. Curved forward to conceal their busty shapes and pubescent slits, they had watched Gin-Li do it with fascination. It was the first time they had been shown what the girls in the village whispered about with a mixture of laughter and disgust.

Shan also knelt, gazing in disbelief at this much larger cock than the boys she'd seen bathing in the river. At least they were clean.

Westerners all smelled of sweet pork, and the smell of that creamy cum dripping down the penis added to her profound unease.

A whiplash on her shoulders threw her forward. As if in spite of herself, her tongue scanned the proudly erected pole, bringing back filaments on her tongue, the taste of which she was surprised to appreciate immediately. She was even more surprised to find pleasure in browsing with her fruity lips this stick that she could only clean by tilting her head to the side. She had now forgotten the crowd, so much did her confusion lead her to seize ever more this column of palpitating flesh.

She raised her head and looked at him for a few brief seconds with a resolute air, before swallowing it.

Brother Rémi had not had time to recuperate, and his discharge took longer to come this time. Shan took it in completely and almost choked, not so much for lack of practice as due to the astonishing generative capacity of the Brother, almost never exhausted.

Shan was pulled back ruthlessly by the Boxer chief, to be replaced by Tiu.

Martine had just orgasmed twice. She looked at Keiko in dread and horror. She had just realized that Brother Rémi was destined to perish by the torture of love-making, an old oriental punishment about which Keiko had spoken to her one day, giggling. She could not believe that what she had taken for a fantasy could actually happen before her eyes. The heat reflected by the bell on to her own nudity, in contact with the rough floor of the belfry, added to the derangement of all her senses.

Tiu was crying, because she too had understood that forcing Brother Rémi to a similar ejaculation again was going to be anything but pleasant for him. She turned to protest, but saw that a Boxer with a deep hairy chest had raised his saber above her, mimicking a beheading, as a horrified murmur rose from the crowd.

Defeated, she reluctantly carried out a task that would have excited her so much otherwise, because she found Brother Rémi very handsome.

Her head swayed mechanically around the glans, without her being able to do otherwise. She was pretending, she might as well have been sucking a bone. She was only maintaining the erection of Brother Rémi, who was beginning to feel impeded by the sliding of her dry lips along his penis, and was suffering in the depths of his testicles from the forced production of a thin liquor of semen.

He had regained a modicum of awareness of his situation, and out of irritation and a return of modesty, he began to protest:

"Stop, Tiu, stop, please".

Tiu looked up as if she wanted to apologize. As if to be forgiven, without realizing that she was going to make Brother Rémi's condition even worse, she impaled her mouth on the point swollen with blood, and began to pump with ardor, deepening her cheeks without thinking of her teeth, in the hope of quickly delivering the catechist. Despite the awkward bites, the young Christian came with a groan of anguish, the ejaculation had been very painful, and his cock was burning horribly now, an hour after his first discharge.

With horror, he saw that Ging-Li had also taken a stand, her face bathed in tears. She grabbed his poor scarlet dick, still as hard and gorged with blood, and cupped her hand under his curled up testicles. The soothing freshness of this contact was quickly replaced by an irritation of his scrotum as the manipulation continued.

Martine thought she was failing when Keiko explained to her that the first one who could not make the priest cum was to be crucified and atrociously mutilated. Her heart was beating madly with emotion, she sought a moment of tenderness to escape from this day of horror and laid her head on Keiko's thigh.

For half an hour, Ging-Li had been trying to get something other than moans. She was perfectly aware that even such a well-mounted man could not orgasm so quickly, but she could not bring herself to climb on the cross erected at his sides like a scarecrow. She had enclosed the swollen mast between her breasts, the milky fullness of which favored the sliding of the superb stake, on which glided relentlessly her lips and her tongue.

The chief of the Boxers watched carefully for any swelling in Brother Rémi's scrotum.

"Enough, Ging-Li, enough, enough, it's enough, you're killing me"

When he finally expelled a couple of drops in a rattle that even impressed the Boxers, they directed Shan with a slap under the cross.

The young peasant was enraged, because she thought that one of their two lives, and perhaps both together, would very quickly be played out. The crowd had now been standing and gathered for almost three hours, some women had fainted, but the savages had nevertheless made them sit in the front row so that they did not miss anything of the awful and disturbing spectacle. Gradually, the men had gathered under the western wall, their wives seated in front of them, while the Boxers had spread out on the sides so as to form a U which surrounded the crosses.

Keiko let a brief orgasm invade her before pushing away Martine's head, because Shan was his best friend. She heard decreasing groans of agony from Brother Rémi, who was shaken by uncontrollable tremors. Shan was forced to hold his purple sex firmly between her fingers to block the blood in the corpora cavernosa.

Brother Rémi had felt his heart racing gradually ever faster throughout the past hour, and he no longer had the capacity to reason and even less to express himself.

Aware of his gradual weakening which heralded a stampede, the leader of the Boxers advanced and enwrapped the throat of the martyr with a leather strap. He inserted a thin bamboo rod between the skin and the strap to form a tourniquet. Three twists later, the convulsed face of the monk was as purple as his penis, and close to rigor mortis.

He felt the rhythm of his palpitations suddenly slow down, as if all his vital energy was being drained out of him by his poor dick, excruciatingly dilated.

Shan felt a flood overwhelm her mouth, the taste of iron reminded her of something quite different from that of sperm. She threw her head back violently, hearing cries of horror from the crowd. She wiped the liquid from her lips on the back of her hand.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Chapter 6 The torture of the maids - Shan

Martine gasped in shock mixed with fear when she spotted the scarlet hand brandished against the sun at its zenith. Brother Rémi's chin had dropped to his chest, he couldn't hear the fierce struggle between Shan and two particularly ugly and muscular Boxers. They had tossed the dice and won the right to inflict on her the Death of a Thousand Cuts.

Shan kicked, tugged with her sweaty arms every time they grabbed her, she managed to free herself in an attempt to escape, but each time she ran into a wall of bare, fierce chests. She was pulled down like a chicken whose mad rushing around ends up inexorably under the chopper. Without worrying about presenting to the crowd the spectacle of her generous bosom bouncing wildly, she ran to the four corners of the enclosure to the jeers of the Boxers, who were betting on how long she'd evade capture. The two Boxers were at first amused by her resistance, and especially when she slithered in the dust, offering everyone a stunning view of her deep vulva, but then they got bored. One of them grabbed a log and threw it between her legs.

As Shan moaned on the ground massaging her knee, her tormentors grabbed her by the shoulders and carried her to the cross, her heels dragging on the ground left a furrow in the dust.

She was manhandled down hard onto the cross set immediately to the left of that of Brother Rémi. Her wrists were tied above her head, forcing outwards her full, firm breasts, and her ankles pulled back, bound off the ground to spread her legs and fully expose her vaginal lips. The whole weight of her body was borne painfully by her wrists. At first she gained some relief as her arms were tied with a large, soggy leather thong. Her torturers then wrapped it very close around her body, but so tightly that the cruel compression quickly became terribly painful. When the thong was tied tight around her chest she could barely breathe, and her podgy, misshapen breasts were hurting her severely.

She was now tied up like a mummy, hundreds of pieces of flesh protruding through the bonds, which pressed ever more as the fiery rays of the sun dried out the leather.

The two Boxers had each drawn a slender, very sharp knife, the edges of which they carefully ground on their sharpening stones. Having observed that the leather completely retracted and grown hard, they positioned themselves on either side of the cross to perform their office in the view of the whole assembly.

Above them, Keiko bit her lip so as not to scream at the same time as Shan, when the blades dug lightly into her fleshy shoulders, cutting free a piece of epidermis no wider than her thumb, and no thicker than her little finger.

The cord had drawn several rectangles of skin on her collarbones, which was quickly scraped away, there being little flesh under the epidermis. After a short consultation punctuated by stifled chuckles, the executioners palpated her plump body, gripping her voluminous breasts with both hands, as well as the skin of her stomach and the partly cellulite-specked skin of her thighs. Shan was so anxious about what was in store for her that she could not even feel the pinching of her flesh, till she let out a howl in agony when she saw one of her tormentors bring a sharp blade to her chest.

Martine closed her eyes and turned her head away at the same time as the other women of the Mission, while Shan's cries reached a high treble pitch. When she opened them again, she perceived that the Boxers, were slowly cutting Shan's breasts in a hideous trickle of blood. They had first lifted and stretched the tips of her breasts between their thumbs and forefingers to remove the nipples, taking advantage of their exceptional projection between paired twists of the leather cord. Now, they slowly pushed the tips of their blades under the areola, to twist them around gently under the bottom of the breast, which was intended to be added to a collection from which they would make a necklace.
 
Chapter 7 the torture of the maids - Ging-Li

Shan's excruciating screams of a wounded beast were beyond words.

The Boxer chief had to wait until his executioners had completed their operation, and thrown the pieces of bloody flesh to the two guard-dogs of the Mission, before being able to make himself heard.

He gestured briefly to Ging-Li first, then to the fruit press that stood between the sisters' dormitory and the church.

The fruit press comprised a large hollowed-out stone with a circular gutter, and a stone wheel fixed on an axis, which crushing the fruits placed in the hollow.


It was at the cost of an unequal and hopeless struggle that three of the rebels, not before their faces had been scratched by her sharp fingernails, managed to grasp Ging-Li firmly by the waist and legs, she was hissing more fiercely than a wildcat.

Martine and Keiko looked at each other, a bit taken aback by this change of program, not understanding how the fruit press, symbol of the sweetness and joie de vivre of the little Mission, could serve as a new instrument of torture.But when they saw that her torturers were forcing Ging-Li to kneel down right in front of the curb, they instantly understood what was going to happen.

Almost naked themselves, two of the Boxers, whose contact with the bare flesh of such a beautiful woman had triggered a visible excietment greeted ironically by their brothers in arms, weighed with all their weight on Ging-Li's ankles, while lifting her busty breasts in the hollow of their palms to better arrange them inside the edge of the press.

Ging-Li immediately understood what fate was promised to her, she struggled, begging "Noooooo, don't let them do this to me, I beg youIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEE !!!!!!". She saw with horror that the third Boxer had started to nudge the stone wheel on its axis. With a sinister crackle covered by the crowd's “Ohs”, the two hundred kilogram stone swayed timidly before approaching its target. Breathing heavily, the Boxer brought it round gradually from the left into contact with the magnificent breast, covered in goosebumps despite the ambient heat.

The leader of the insurgents addressed the crowd, raising a bowl of milk, and Martine did not need Keiko's translation.

When he put it down as a signal, the wheel moved forward, first pinching the saffron-colored skin. Ging-Li resumed her pleading, “Help meiiiiii! Mercy! Nooooooooo! Where is my husband? I want my husband!” Mad with fear, her face protected from the sun by the shadow of the menacing millstone that was slowly moving on, she felt the millimeter progression of the roughness of the wheel catch her skin until it stretched the breast. The pain was frightening, her screams chilled the blood of all the women present, but the worst was yet to come. The breast, monstrously bloated for a short time, seemed ready to burst like an overripe watermelon. When the living flesh of the fat fore-breast began to be squeezed and slowly pressed, Ging-Li passed out.

The basin was filling with blood and creamy milk under Ging-Li's chest, her half-shredded breast had almost disappeared under the gray stone. The bucket of iced water which splashed her beautiful face seemed to at the same time to rinse out the debris which was filling the inside of the basin of the debris.

Ging-Li regained consciousness in a thick haze of pain. Blood vessels had burst in his eyes. When the wheel continued to crush her left breast, she bit her tongue off without being able to control herself.
 
Chapter 8 the torture of the maids - Tiu

Tiu had forgotten her own existence during this dreadful spectacle. When the leader of the Boxers pointed to her in her turn, she suddenly peed and sat down in the soiled dust. She was dragged without resistance on her knees to the cross.

The Boxer leader wanted to see all the punishments working together. Crucified in the same position as Brother Rémi, to her right, Tiu realized with horror that two braziers, filled with red-hot irons set in wooden handles, were being brought to her side.

A Boxer emerged from the crowd. He walked directly in front of her, grabbed an iron rod and checked its brightness. It was heated red and glowing even in broad daylight. He turned to Tiu and spat in her face. Then he applied the hot iron to the spit that was dripping down his cheek.

The intense “FFFFzzzzzzzz” that resulted made this punishment coupled with symbolic degradation all the more spectacular.

The Boxer carefully returned the white-hot rod to the brazier, while another took his place. Tiu let out a long moan of pain “Why are you doing this to me? Pei chiao, I recant, I recant, but stop AAAAAAA!”. Her frightful howl continued long after the cruel bite of the white-hot iron on her right nipple soiled with new spit.

Shan joined in her desperate prayer “I too abjure, I recant, please don't HUUUURT me anymore”. But she couldn't stop the two executioners from rummaging around together inside her private parts. Her big lips, stretched out inordinately, felt the sharp fire of terrible razors, before disappearing completely into the mouths of the Tibetan mastiffs.

Ging-Li had remained prostrate, nailed to the press by the shreds of her torn breast, she could barely manage to keep her bust pressed against the rim so as not to lacerate her mutilated flesh still further. From his chest came a dull rumble, like the growl of a mortally wounded beast.

A third Boxer appeared in front of Tiu. He pulled back the thick black hairs with his left hand to free the hood of her clitoris, and applied his infernal device on the delicate button. The atrocious clamor seemed to resonate inside the bell itself, behind Martine's back.

The sun was at its zenith, and now all the Christians, including the men, had sat down, resigned and exhausted, while the Boxers had begun to plunder the food store, and were feasting on some of the French products they were discovering. They enjoyed the cold cuts and bread that the Reverend Mother Mary had given as secret treats to the small community, and burps of satisfaction were sounding from all sides.

A full belly, a pleasant sun, and the prospect of being able to torture the maids through the long hours ahead filled these simple souls with joy.

When the Boxers had had enough to eat, Ging-Li's torturers came out of the shadows and approached the wine press.

Surprised by their appearance, Martine threw herself back too brutally, weighing on Keiko to regain her balance. So as not to fall into the void behind her, Keiko clung to the edge of the bell with both hands, which dragged her further first, before just steadying her. Keiko realized instantly what was going to happen, but couldn't prevent the bell from swinging back.

"DING, DONG, DING, DONG, DING, DONG, DING, dong, ding, dong, ding... ”.

Martine and Keiko, mute with shock, looked at each other with a full understanding of the catastrophe that had just occurred. They guessed that they were lost the moment the chiming ceased to stupefy them. They looked at each other, aghast, before embracing tenderly. They held hands to jump together into the void, but the floor of the top level of the belfry was far too high for them to have any hope of dying. They turned towards the openings of the steeple, but the louvres located in the exact centre of the bays prevented the passage of their bodies under or over.

They lay stretched out on the floor, their eyes in the sun, arms around each other's neck, their eyes wet with tears, reciting to each other the poem of Pierre Louÿs.
 
Chapter 10 - End of the tortures of the maids.

With a determined step, confident in their strength, their power and their rights, the insurgents continued to present themselves one after the other in front of the tortured body of Tiu. From her side, the smell of burning flesh had become more distressing than her death-rattling groans. She had broken a vocal cord after one of the barbarians managed to skewer her beautiful breasts together with the infernal rod. She had convulsed excruciatingly when her labia majora seemed to melt into steam under the bite of the iron. Several Boxers were satisfied to quickly pass the irons over her cracked skin in several places, on the stomach or buttocks, but the last ones no longer found any flesh intact.

Ging-Li thought she would die when the wheel grabbed her right breast, having finished ruining the left one. She felt the first pinch on her skin as a much more terrible wound than the first time, for she knew in her flesh the immeasurable pain it heralded. She had regained some strength, and she lifted her head to scream, a short, fierce howl that drained her of all energy, "No! Leave me a breast to feed my baby", when she saw her nipple engaged under the rough edge of the grinding wheel. The crush, initially light, was gradually increased under by skilfully measured turning of her tormentor. He was alone, for Ging-Li was inexorably riveted by her body to the instrument of torture.

The mastiffs were now waiting near the cross for the small fillets of fresh meat which had been thrown to them continuously for nearly half an hour. They had pricked up their ears at the sound of the excruciating gurgles that escaped Shan's throat, since she had bitten off her tongue in a fit of madness.

Sometimes, a cry became almost audible, when her two tormentors came back to take pieces of breast or vulva, cutting into the pink flesh, or lifting the well-fuzzed skin to wrinkle it and limit the tearing of the highly sensitive tissues with a simple scratch. . They took all their time slicing off the thin shreds of flesh, playing with Shan's anguish, with almost sensual caresses of her skin, as if preparing her to make the offering of her flesh to the crowd, which they loudly requested with cheers of approval before each ablation.

Martine tried to get up at one point, to cry out her horror and proclaim her faith. She managed to stay on her feet just long enough to say “God is with you” to the heavenly martyrs now nearing death. A lash across her thighs made her fall back pathetically on her behind, like a little girl punished. Mad with rage, Keiko rushed at the leader of the Boxers, and clawed his nose deeply, aiming at his eyes. She even managed to spit in his face before being violently pushed back and belted.

Tiu's body no longer reacted with the same intensity to the deep burns that had irreparably mutilated it. She was now in a state of shock, in an intermediate state where each new wound no longer added the same suffering as before, to a nervous system becoming dead to pain. Her mind had gradually escaped from her body, and only a minimal thread directly linked to the synapses reacted mechanically. When the executioners noticed that the tender soles of her feet remained inert under the caress of the rod, they understood that it was time to end it.

The leader of the Boxers himself came under the cross to take two white-hot skewers. He pressed them methodically into each breast until they came out the other side, in a hideous hiss of combustion that reached the hearts of all the women in the assembly. Tiu contracted excruciatingly as her breasts seemed to deflate violently. Without stopping, the leader of the Boxers took a glowing iron bar from the fireplace and lifted it up to Tiu's closed eyes. When she reopened them, her face paralyzed by indescribable suffering, she saw, bending slightly below her belly, the Boxer chief about to introduce the instrument of his torture into her smouldering vagina. She tried with a desperate start to haul herselfup to escape the unbearable defloration, but it was he who lifted her body, defiling her hymen and then her womb. When he looked up, he saw that God had welcomed one more martyr to his merciful bosom.

Keiko fell to her knees when the two owners of Shan's body, who hadn't resumed their horrible butchering, grabbed their razors again. She begged while crying “Stop it, stop, please, her sister is already dead… .but stop now, she's recanted!!!”. Without any consideration for the sharp and hasty prayer, the rebels approached the cathedral of blood swaddled on its cross. The older of the two had the drooping grey moustache of a Zaporozhian Cossack. He could have passed for a good grandfather if he hadn't taken special care in slicing Shan's fleshy bottom into thin slices.

Small and lively, with the profile of a shark, his friend was busy sculpting what remained of the breasts and labia minora of the young Christian's sex. The edge of his blade picked up tiny slivers with the dexterity of a barber. When both began to wade through a pool of blood, their gestures became less precise and the ritual quickly turned to butchery. Emptied of blood a few moments later, Shan exhaled a bubble of blood which was her last breath.

Ging-Li hoped that a quick death would come to relieve her. She was aware of no longer being a woman, of never being able to breastfeed again, but although bloodless and in excruciating pain from her crushed breasts, she was very much alive. She felt the characteristic smell of gasoline wash over her back, before the liquid flooded her feet. She instantly realized she was going to perish from burns and desperately tried to stand up.

She wouldn't have thought that the pain of pulling out her mutilated breasts could be even more excruciating than what she had already experienced. Breathless, she slid lightly on the base of the mill, falling heavily onto the coping. A loud “WOOF” deafened her as flames rose under her stomach and buttocks. Quickly roasted alive, Ging-Li managed to lift her knees one last time. A bucket of gasoline thrown across her back turned her into a living torch that slowly consumed her, and finally brought her peace, after she had fallen again onto the stone edge.
 
Chapter 11 - Then came the time of the rapes

The dazed crowd no longer reacted. Like the damned in Hell described by Dante, for them time seemed to have stood still, frozen by such bloodcurdling horror. There was a wavering in the ranks of the Boxers, whose senses were satiated by the sight of so much torture since morning. Perhaps also a vague pity began to be born in the hearts of some. Voices were raised among the attackers to call out to Martine and Keiko "Go on, recant, you can live!"

Martine and Keiko contemplated the vertiginous circle that was dazing them, formed of baggy pants in a symphony of green, blue and red, topped with long haired male torsos, and above them terrible, cruel faces. They didn't hear themselves answer.

It was with treacherous joy that the leader of the Boxers listened to the elated reply of the young Christians,

“Never!!! We shall die together for our faith!”

Martine and Keiko replied with one voice, while almost immediately regretting their bravado, which would compel them to assist in each other's ordeal. This was more unbearable to them than the idea of their own death, and after exchanging a long look of love, they realized their mistake. Before they had time to change their minds, they were firmly seized by a whirlwind of hands that pinned them to the ground.

The leader of the Boxers himself stepped forward, first above Keiko. He slowly undid the cord that held his hemp pants, and grabbed his proudly erect phallus, pointing to it with the other hand,

"Now you'll see how love with a man of your own race is better."

He stretched out against her sides. His fingers rummaged for a few moments in the youthful vulva to dig a passage. He sank down heavily, squeezing her unspoiled virginity as her butt tensed sharply from the harshness of the assault. Her long, flexible, firm nipples were being crushed between his fingers by way of reins, he straddled the poor servant of God for a few moments, without taking his pleasure, despite the narrowness of the cunt which seemed to grab hold of his rod.

A few seconds later, Martine uttered a cry as heartbreaking as that of Keiko, which echoed the sharing of her sufferings as much as it manifested her own revulsion for the Boxers, who kept kneading her well-endowed udders savagely with their long, hard, dirty nails. Others laughed, pointing to a virgin forest in which they said they could have got lost. Some suggested setting fire to this obscene vegetation, but most preferred to play with the fur, impregnated as it was with the intimate secretions of the young virgin.

Martine felt terribly soiled when she saw these human beasts sniffing their fingers with foul comments after caressing her. However, despite the horror of the situation, she was quite aroused, the Boxers had involuntarily lubricated her vagina. She received with ease the leader of the Boxers, who felt almost no resistance when his cock pierced the thin wall of flesh. Disappointed, but confirmed in his opinion that all white women were prostitutes, he half-heartedly made his rod come and go in the sheath of bloody flesh. He didn't like big breasts, and when he sat up, it was to slap them loudly, making them toss unsightly to the sides. He pulled them up by the nipples, saying “Christian cow!” Martine felt her heart strangely siezed by these humiliations in front of Keiko, as much as by her own rape. The heat of the bodies pressed around her, and that of her rapist, was making her sweat profusely.

Disgusted by the feel and the smell of her, the Boxer leader stood up, dissatisfied. By association of idea with a prostitute, he knelt down to desecrate the virginal mouth with his bloody cock. Martine had the dazzling thought that if she gave him pleasure, he might spare Keiko. With a mixture of loathing and fascination, she let the tip of the sour-tasting spear strike her palate, while keeping an eye on Keiko - who was tossed over like a pancake and sodomized with a long groan, by a Boxer like a furious stallion, while a veil of brown dust swirled around them.

The scrotum of her rapist regularly patted Martine's chin. After a quick back and forth in her mouth of the foul cock, she felt a contraction of the testicles precede a phenomenal ejaculation. As the manly seed ran down her throat, she heard an order, repeated in French to her attention.

" Maintenant, vous prendre servante chienne pour brûler poitrine. "
“Now you take servant bitch to have her bust burnt."

A flash of rage mixed with lucidity washed over Martine. Without any clear grasp of what she was doing, she angrily closed her jaw, clenching her teeth as she heard the savage howl that invaded her ears. She would never have imagined herself being capable of such strength, such violence. She had crunched her teeth to the point that her jaws had locked together, completely shredding the rod in a bloody explosion that erupted out, flowing over her lips, as the barbarian pulled back.

The leader of the Boxers collapsed into the arms of his companions. Martine took advantage of this lull to run and take Keiko in her arms. They stared in amazement, like the whole crowd, at the one who had been terrorising them all day, now moaning like a child as he was losing his blood.

Despite the final mutilation, he remained alive, though very much weakened, after his followers managed to curb the hemorrhage with cloths, and thanks to a ligature on the stump that would replace his manhood for the rest of his days.

He had an armchair brought, into which he collapsed, and gave some instructions in a muffled voice.
 
Chapter 12 - Keiko under the eyes of Martine

Keiko kissed Martine, “I'm proud of you! FAREWELL MY LOVE! ” even as the Boxers separated them with whips. Martine cried out at the top of her voice, “I'll see you soon - I LOVE YOU!”

The Boxers had removed the body of the Reverend Mother Marie, and nailed it to the last vacant cross, like an owl crucified on the shutter of a farm in her native Vendée.

Under the telegraph pole thus left empty, a sort of mobile cast-iron hearth, mounted on casters, had been placed at the base. Two Boxers grabbed Keiko under the armpits, while Martine uttered a heart-rending cry when she saw the one who had awakened her to love going to her death. In the throes of anguish she did not immediately see that the monsters of iniquity were digging a deep hole in front of the telegraph pole.

Keiko struggled bravely, throwing out kicks with her little feet, bandaged as was the custom in China for girls seeking a good marriage. Laughing, the two Boxers held her wrists securely as another executioner approached with two thin cords with a large hook at their end. He lifted the woman's small, beautifully formed right breast to make the long nipple protrude, that Martine had sucked so much the previous night. The nipple seemed like a sugar rose presented on a crispy honey cake. It was almost with regret that the Boxer carefully pushed the sharp point of the hook into the adorably pearly areola. Keiko's shriek of pain would have made tigers back away in the arena.

It was Martine who screamed first before the left breast was transfixed in its turn.
"NoooooooOOOOOOOO! Don't do thaaaaaaaaaaat!”

She was still unaware that the poorly trimmed, grease-coated stake the rebels had just planted into the ground was waiting for her.

The Boxers released Keiko, as they now had a safe way to lead and subdue her. Her tormentor only needed to pull a little on the thongs to make her spin around with a grimace of pain, like a horse on a merry-go-round. He paraded her for a few moments in front of the crowd, she had to hurry her steps to manage to follow him. Her little fingers tried clumsily to lift the curved tips of the hook, but it was no longer possible to remove the terrible device except by cutting it off, which was impossible to do with just her hands.

She was ultimately brought just above the cooker, where the cords were tied tightly around the post. Keiko's slender nipples now lay inordinately elongated and flattened, like fillets of beef, on the grate that covered the hearth. Keiko didn't understand why one of the Boxers was handing her his knife. She stared at him stupidly, believing that a duel to the death with Martine was going to be imposed on them. It was almost with relief that she saw her taken to be tied to the pole erected not far from her.

A few moments later she lost her composure when she understood the fate that was awaiting her. A Boxer approached with a torch, waving it under her pleading eyes before throwing it brutally into the hearth. The charcoal deposited at the bottom of the cooker, lightly soaked in petrol, ignited instantly, causing nothing but a scorching, singeing heat on the base of her young udders, which dissipated as quickly as the volatile vapor of the oil. But some charcoal had remained glowing red.

Keiko heard Martine's voice, and her love's cry was a howl of physical pain so shrill that she lifted her head, momentarily indifferent to her own plight.

On the order of their leader, the unfortunate woman, raised by four men, had been set with her bruised vagina just above the stake, on its tip that was rounded so as not to pierce her too quickly. When the point had penetrated her delicate flesh, his executioners moved aside, allowing her own weight to work. The martyr screamed excruciatingly in the terrible pain, bringing her hand to her breasts in a tragic gesture of pleading for protection. Her arms were pulled back and bound roughly behind her back. She remained there, panting, braced on the tips of her toes to relieve the unbearable pressure in her womb. She gave up struggling when her wrists were tied behind her back, for any sudden movement caused incessant pain in her innards.

Keiko, set in front of the post, her torso leaning over the hearth with a knife in her hand, was feeling an unbearable heat slowly spreading out in the hearth and rising under her youthful chest. A Boxer, who would have been a pretty boy without the scar that crossed his right cheek and eye, was fanning the embers with the blacksmith's bellows. Keiko instinctively tried to pull away, and was immediately punished by an intense tearing pain in her nipples. Mad with anguish, she implored “Untie me, it's too hot. UNTIE ME NOW, IT'S TOO MUCH PAAAAAAAAAAIN!” She was jerking in her position, trying to tug her breasts up from the hot grill, lifting them between her fingers, a tug already too painful for her excruciatingly distended nipples, her fingers were being burned in their turn,

In her start of madness, she was aware that she had to amputate her breasts herself to be able to move away from the closed hearth whose radiance was slowly starting to carbonize the silky skin of her belly. She put the weapon on the savagely nailed areola. The icy razor wire on her overheated skin repelled her and she nearly vomited. She stopped her gesture sobbing and turned to the Boxers screaming “You are monsters. I haaaaaaaaaate you! ”

The young insurgent in charge of her ordeal took no notice of his lamentations and worked the bellows even more vigorously. A surge of searing heat rose from the hearth, spreading the first scents of toasted flesh in the atmosphere. In an excruciating gasp of agony, Keiko rested the blade a little above the nipple, where the point of the hook protruded ...

She screamed for death as her smouldering breast was released, and she hastened her movement to slice into the other areola, so much so that the relief eased the pain of the cut.

Keiko collapsed to the ground, panting and defeated.

Martine found enoug breath to shout encouragement, "Hang in there, I'm with you, I'm with you, I'm with you, I LOVE YOU ”.

The wires of the telegraph pole had been severed in the first minutes of the assault and were hanging in the air. Cut to the right height, they were tied around Keiko's ankles. Raised abruptly from the ground, she was moaning now as thin streams of blood trickled from her punctured chest onto her mouth and hair.
 
Chapter 13 Martine Sentis, like a heroine

Two Boxers took up positions alongside the young leader to march towards Martine. They each carried an armful of thin bamboo twigs about ten centimeters long. The stems had been carefully trimmed and hollowed out during Keiko's ordeal. When Martine heard them, she opened her eyes and stopped conversing with the angels who had been calling her for a few minutes. She considered that her time on earth had just ended, and the contact with the appalling reality made her cry out, her tears had almost run dry when she saw Keiko hanging inert. She thought she was dead, and the memory of their sins together overcame her forcefully. Overwhelmed with shame, she thanked God for giving her time to repent.

Out of her desire for sublime mortification, she addressed the crowd,

“Hear me, all of you - I am a great sinner…”

She couldn't go on any further, for a sharp cleaver had found the base of her full breast, digging a deep, narrow cleft. Martine let out a heart-rending howl,
“Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh... I loved another woman ... eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee ".

A second blade made its way around the areola of her other breast. Before she could catch her breath, the young chief's minions continued to prick into the firm, supple glands, holding on to them tightly, drilling into the tender flesh like a cook piercing holes to prick a roast with garlic.

Martine was crying and sobbing now, she had never suffered so much and she could no longer resume her holy confession before the crowd of Christians, who had spontaneously stood up at the beginning of her speech.

During a short lull, she managed to stand up proudly like a cockerel on his claws, and threw out, with what remained of her feeble power, a last challenge which cut short the confession she could not complete, but which, she believed. , would save her soul:

“May my sacrifice suffice ... for you not to reject me ... Father, I die for YOU ".

Unhappy with this turn of events, the leader of the Boxers ordered his son to speed up the torture so as not to give this damned Christian the opportunity to display her dangerous bravery any longer.

The young giant himself worked with his helpers, who were working on the woman's quivering buttocks, while he took charge of incising the labia minora, after having given up on finding the others in a tangle of hair denser than the fur of a platypus.

Martine was so exhausted that the multiplicity of cuts ended up being annihilated. After struggling for a long time at the cost of more pain deep in her bowels, she had almost relaxed, taking each new cut with a short, muffled cry. She tried to renew her dialogue with the angels, hoped deliriously to see them take up the body of Keiko in their wings to carry her to paradise. When she felt that slender foreign bodies were being stuck into the incisions that speckled her body, and she felt the bamboo stalks ploughing across her flesh, she feverishly imagined herself as Saint Sebastian painted by a Flemish artist.

An unpleasant smell, which she had already smelled when Ging-Li was dead, but much closer this time, suddenly invaded her nostrils, forcing her to open her eyelids. Right before his eyes, the young colossus was holding a teapot between his fingers. He waited with a broad smile for Martine to fully realize the situation before tipping the spout over the hollowed-out end of a bamboo cane. Carefully avoideing spilling the the petroleum he had just poured into the young shoot, he successively filled the hundred stems planted vertically into the breasts, vulva and buttocks of Martine.

Immediately, the essence acted on the sharp wounds like a real acid, causing roars of suffering and convulsions of the beautiful, well-formed body of the young Christian.

But it was as nothing compared to the excruciating burn the first flaming bamboo gave her. A living fire had been set ablaze inside Martine's right breast. The flame irresistibly evoked in her eyes the hell from which she believed herself saved. With a long howl of agony she strove to resume her unfinished confession:

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH !!!! My… .my… my father, forgive us this day ... ourAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAhhhhhhhhh ”

She couldn't add another word, you Several crimson flames flickered before her eyes on all sides. When she was transformed in the rising darkness, into a living firework display, with her excruciated convulsions only limited by her impalement, the young executioner turned to finish off Keiko. He resumed his whipping, and thrashed for a few short moments the tragically mutilated rose, gradually transforming it into a bloody mush. Out of coquetry, he had wanted to tear off the particularly generous clitoris of the young Chinese girl, and a round of applause greeted this feat. That was the moment when Keiko's body, traversed by faint tremors, was reduced to nothing more than a living wound, totally ragged and torn.

In the newspaper “l'Illustration”a few months later, the beheading of the martyr was the only scene the illustrator allowed himself to reproduce in an engraving.

It was a miracle that Martine was still conscious. She was in too much pain to fully realise that Keiko was dead. She did not realise that she was still alive, she thought she was in a kind of hell that would prolong her last moments into eternity. Then she felt that the manly acorn-shaped tip was crumpling and tearing her delicate organs, finally penetrating into her entrails. Blood flowed down her bare thighs and down the shaft. The victim imagined herself bringing her hands to her face, as if to hide from everyone the terrible and horrifying pain that her eyes beheld. But she was too well attached, everyone could witness the overwhelming transformation of her face.

Her leg muscles twitching, her feet clenched, her throat gasping, everything about her was endless pain. At first motionless, one would have said that she was following the sly penetration of the stake into her flesh. And suddenly, with a shudder, she seemed to slip down, but it was the blunt end that was sinking deeper in, and suddenly the knees of the unfortunate woman touched the ground. It seemed that this contact gave her back her strength. She straightened slightly on the soles of her feet, despite the awful tearing of the pale in the opposite direction, as if trying to free herself. For a moment, she managed to hold herself, but her blood flowed abundantly and she soon weakened. The stake drove further in.

Bowed, muscles and willpower tensed, she came to a standstill, thus avoiding any further pain. Her eyes closed, her lips whispering a prayer, she seemed to have tamed the pain.

A violent whip-stroke across the bamboo stalks embedded in her flesh scorched her martyred breasts. She leapt, both her feet slipped on the ground made slimy by her own blood, her knees straightened. She was sitting now, only the stake kept her body from falling. Her arms suddenly stiffened, she was shaken by two or three massive convulsions, then she remained motionless, eyes wide open, jaws contracted. She was dead.

The Boxer leader stood up painfully, and declared to the crowd in Chinese:

“Now, let this carrion sit there to rot, as proof that nothing happens without my orders, and that nothing stops me in my mission. May all those who recant cross the courtyard and come and stand behind us! ”. He waited in vain for a few long moments, before insulting the magnificent crowd.

So the Boxers took aim at the last Christians east of the Yangtse Kiang.

Three weeks later, Colonel Renard, with a quivering moustache, stepped over the fallen heavy gate of the Little Mission. His Lefaucheux revolver brandished in front of him, he led a detachment sent urgently by the French expeditionary force. He gazed for a few moments at the courtyard strewn with corpses, from which emerged four crosses, a stake and the telegraph pole. They were supporting excruciatingly mutilated corpses that looked as if they had been sculpted by a lunatic. The stench forced him for a moment to bring a scented handkerchief to his nose, but it was not long before he let his arm rest, before kneeling down to pray. The soldiers took off their caps and bowed their heads to respect a minute's silence.
 
Back
Top Bottom