【Pearl Coast - Unknown Return】(Part 4)

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【Pearl Coast - Unknown Return】(Part 4)
There really wasn't anything wrong with their behavior. They were affectionately licking their mother to show the beauty of kinship.
They didn't do anything more.
Author: Yang Yixing
2015/06/30 First published on:
Word count: 6428
Part
4 When the head female slave came to our table that time, she knelt down at Pig Head's feet, standing tall and graceful. According to her
status, she didn't have to kneel down in front of guests for every service. It was like a thoughtful reminder that she was going to
convey something somewhat special. By then it was getting late, and the head female slave of Unknown Return
calmly told Pig Head that an official wanted to issue a hunting permit. He wanted Little Pig to run the hunt. He would
pay 10,000 taels of silver for the right to use her.
You can imagine that Pig Head was actually a little frightened. But he calmed himself down. "Hmm. I
am a cultured merchant," Pig Head said. "I don't say unpleasant things to people. You have to tell him no."
Now our gaze naturally followed the head waitress as she walked back, looking towards
the table of guests three tables away from us. The guests of honor were dressed like commoners. But Pighead and I almost immediately realized
he was a completely different person. I even suspected Pighead might die. The head waitress had already knelt down
to relay Pighead's reply, and then a servant, presumably, rose from his seat. He struck with a leisurely air,
but each slap to the head waitress's face looked incredibly heavy.
The head waitress, barely managing to maintain her composure, knelt on the ground and received perhaps ten slaps. But her face
couldn't withstand such blows; in fact, her head spun rapidly like a child's rattle,
making a crackling sound. Her tightly bound hair at the back of her head loosened, becoming a cascade of loose strands flying over her shoulders.
The man finished by kicking her, sending her flying under the countertop of an empty table next to them. The woman, clutching
her stomach, lay prone for a moment before slowly crawling out. She knelt upright again, respectfully listening to the guest's
new demands.
After the price reached 100,000 taels of silver, Pighead's face began to flush. He asked the head waitress to bring him wine. Although the head waitress, kneeling
before him, was disheveled, bruised, and bleeding, she still called over a young
girl and ordered her to do it immediately. Pighead calmly poured himself a bowl of bright red wine, not spilling a drop
on the table. No, no. He muttered to himself, "Little Pig is good, I like Little Pig." No.
The setting sun cast its rays. I noticed that Tong and her daughter were no longer in sight. They seemed to have
quietly left sometime earlier. The entire terrace under the palm-leaf roof seemed to suddenly fall silent. There were still a few scattered
tables of guests. They might not have shown any particular interest, but they were all listening. Later
, the main figure spoke up himself. He said to the foreman, "I know who you are, and I know
who your sons are. Call all your children here.
A person has to live with a breath of life. Sometimes when someone smashes a cup in the shop, then another, it
means I'm still here, alive and breathing. Even after everything's smashed, no one says a word.
You have to think about the consequences." The foreman, having just been beaten, sounded genuinely hoarse and exhausted. She still
called to the maids to fetch the dog slaves, saying, "All of those dog slaves."
The dog slaves had a deep-seated innocence and docility in their delicate features, like the eyes of your pet dog,
gazing at you with a captivating gaze. There was even a hint of alluring pleading for affection. We'd seen these two silver-clad boys by the horse-tethering fence
. The boys, side by side, clasped hands intimately, their joined hands pulling on
the silver chains connecting their three younger sisters' necks: one around ten years old, one around five, and two... These young slaves, so tender they
resembled naked fledglings, hadn't even been chained to their limbs. Besides their bare bodies,
flat-chested, small buttocks, they wore only a silver ring around their necks and a chain for restraint.
The little girl at the end of the chain wobbled up the deck of the dining room. She could barely walk, but
was captivated by the novelty of the outside world. She tried to stand on her legs, but instead landed on her bottom with a thud. The little one
simply sat there, waving her arms and legs, giggling.
The slave woman, her hair disheveled and head bowed, seemed oblivious to the changes around her.
But her steps were unsteady and unsteady. The head waitress waved away the young waiter, then moved the chairs aside one by one
, pushing the adjacent tables further out to clear a space for the official's feet. When the woman
knelt there again, she would be able to control herself. Her face was pressed against the floor, and
behind her other, soft, white buttocks, which were raised high towards people's faces, her thin, white sons, their faces docile and gentle, were
beginning to manipulate the beaded rings and penises hanging from their crotches. They were preparing to publicly engage in a
pleasurable act, to let a joyful crowd witness it. Her three daughters, some squatting, some kneeling, and some crawling on all fours
, gathered around her. The two smallest ones, huddled together like little balls, could even hide under her breasts, touching
, hugging, and sucking on her hanging breasts. The slightly older one already knew how to help her brother; she could crawl
up from behind and hug her thighs, her little tongue working diligently, sure enough to wet her mother's large vulva.
The boys, like dogs, crawled forward, using their two thin, silver-inlaid penises to take turns inserting them
into their mother's soft, hairy vulva, which was exposed against her white skin. The twin boys, innocent and intelligent
, took turns thrusting and resting, filling their mother's time with an almost endless flow.
The dog's sons, trained from a young age to arouse their dogs, showed no mercy when teasing their mother
. Lust, like a stamen blooming beneath layers of petals, swayed and trembled, witnessed by the joyful crowd
.
We heard the headwoman's swaying moans gradually turn into piercing wails. In a place of extravagant luxury and
decadent debauchery, to glance at such a peak moment—could that not be considered
immoral? The battle between the twin boys and the two generations of mother and daughters, intertwined and inseparable, was displayed before the eyes of the crowd, divine...
The serene, simply dressed guest looked around, pondered, and then turned aside to give an order.
This time, it was a scholar who rose. If we are witnessing the bearing of a king, then he is the courtier at the king's side
. The scholar leaned under the table and scrutinized
the mother who was being gang-raped by her two sons and three daughters. He inserted a folding fan under her chin and demanded that she look up at the entire room.
Her face was wet with tears, snot, and saliva. Her face was contorted and twitching violently, making it impossible to distinguish between
laughter and tears. "The people of a conquered nation can only obey the conquerors. When a chaste woman violates virtue and rebels against
morality, shouldn't she shout out the pleasure of depravity?"
"Fuck my cunt! Fuck my jade-like beautiful cunt to pieces!"
Thrust into my flesh hole, crush my bud, my kitten and puppy-like daughters, lick your mother's honey-sucking
lips and milk, pierce my flower heart, son, son and son, insert into my flower heart, and insert into my flower heart...
Deeper... deeper! Deeper, more ruthless, insert me, stab me, you must bestow upon your mother the deepest and
most ruthless time!
My two white lamb-like sons, put your silver-ringed, silver-beaded cocks hard into your mother
's honey pot!
If the legend is true, those women who dedicate themselves to a great thought that interprets heaven and earth
should never again taste the decadent pleasures of human desire. Rainbow's children were likely born many
years after the fall of her kingdom, not as she had wished. They were immediately sent to
the kennels after birth. They now possess, and only possess, the intelligence of dogs; they
live for, and only for, all kinds of physical pleasure. But in a world defined by blood ties, they are forever her children.
Now she uses her own body to bring her children ecstasy. Should she herself, like a dog, like a horse,
like any ordinary woman engaged in sexual intercourse, strive towards the highest peak of ecstasy?
The impact of flesh against flesh spun and slashed wildly like a boomerang, returning to strike the human
heart. It was a riddle about where we came from, where we are going, and who we are—a metaphysical question
interpreted so crudely yet so magnificently by two penises and four vaginas, through nesting, thrusting, rhythm, and ejaculation.
The head slave girl was always interrupted by sobs when she tried to speak later. Sometimes she would suddenly stare wide-eyed and fall silent,
and a undulating sensation would spread from her lower abdomen across her entire body. She would always wait, her expression dazed, for
the turmoil to slowly subside. Finally, the woman was granted permission to crawl along the floor and perform her duties .
Her face, now raised again at our feet, was deathly pale.
The latest news Pighead heard was that a high-ranking official had brought a fleet of ships anchored at Nalan Harbor.
This official wanted to hunt Piglet. Piglet could run as fast as she could. The official proposed a wager
: for every hour Piglet survived, he would give Piglet's owner a large sailing ship.
That evening, the sky was ablaze with crimson sunset clouds. The shipping magnate went to the covered bridge to find Piglet. Piglet
sat idly in the dirt, legs spread wide. The chain binding her feet had been carelessly locked,
connected to the buckle used to restrain them in their fight. Old Pig said to his girl, "For every hour you run, I'll pay an extra thousand taels of silver." The boss slowly
revealed a strange smile. He said, "I think you can definitely run until tomorrow morning."
The little pig looked up and saw the other man following behind the old pig. She also revealed a
strange smile. The man had a composed demeanor and sharp eyes; even the little pig could tell he was a very
important person. The little pig should be afraid of him, but now she seemed to have no fear at all. The little pig sat with her legs spread and asked him,
"I just want to know… can I beat your dog?"
The man coughed, as if he hadn't swallowed properly. But after a pause, he regained his composure and,
feigning cheerfulness, burst into laughter. Ha, ha, ha. His voice was deep, resonant, and magnetic; to the woman, it sounded a bit
deep, a bit chaotic, but actually quite pleasant. The man said yes, of course.
Women who were prey were most afraid of dogs. Where else could they find someone hiding in this mountain forest without a dog's scent
? Conversely, a good hunting dog can catch you in half an hour, and
you never know where you can escape its nose. Fun and play should be a little challenging, a little dazzling.
The hunting grounds, though seemingly untouched, don't specifically forbid girls from fighting with dogs. Otherwise, if guests can't touch them, and dogs and horses aren't allowed,
being prey would be too stifling. The prey piglet now has a favorable position because the sun is setting and
it's getting dark. The high-ranking official hasn't mentioned this variable at all. He probably thinks he's
important enough and clever enough that he doesn't care about such trivial matters.
Even when traveling incognito, the official still maintains a certain pomp and circumstance. That night,
ten other people and eight dogs went into the mountains with him. The men held torches to light their master's way, but the light
couldn't reach beyond a radius of ten feet. The official trusted his dogs, letting them all charge wildly into the forest
.
From the depths of the night, faint commotions and whimpers drifted out. Their origins were unknown. An
hour, then two, passed quietly. The dogs that emerged were covered in dust and dirt, blood dripping from their teeth, their tails
tucked behind their hindquarters. The piglet wore black iron shackles on both sides of its paws. The dogs had been kicked in the face, flesh and bone
mixed with iron, several teeth flying out; their mouths and noses were stuck together.
This was only because the piglet had exercised some restraint, not killing them outright.
He wouldn't let the dogs out, letting them lead the way, slowly driving the wild animals out little by little.
The piglet, naked, suddenly leaped from the bushes, almost touching the dogs' noses, but the
dogs hesitated, not attacking. They had witnessed the fate of their predecessors and were somewhat traumatized. The high official
proudly dismissed his attendants, leading the way alone on horseback. It was stipulated that only he could draw the arrow; no one else
was allowed. The official wasn't just a figurehead; his arrows were faster than a dog's. The little pig's body was even faster than his arrows.
Missing his target, the little girl had already darted more than two zhang away. The official chuckled confidently, his Ferghana horse...
Understanding perfectly, the pig leaped forward, its four hooves flailing, then somersaulted, throwing the official to
the ground where he rolled several times.
To insist that the knot of grass tied between the two tree trunks was intentionally placed by the pig, jumping and squealing, accusing
the young girl of cheating and insisting on calling her back to stand still for another chase and another shot—that's hardly something
a man would do. The official, dressed in plain clothes, crawled out of the mud, calmly standing still, letting his servants
and followers frantically clean up. But from that moment on, until dawn, for three
or four hours, the incense burned and the water clock ticked in the pavilion, a light breeze and thin mist covered the entire forest slope—but no
one, no dog, ever saw the pig again. "Your archery has improved considerably, 　　" the official instructed those around him. "
Go and look around. If you see one, shoot it ."
"And what about the foreman?"
Even though I'm a veteran of this club, I'd never known a female slave foreman could
ride so skillfully on horseback. Her long, bare legs were chained to one side of the horse's back by a short, thick silver chain, and despite having
just suffered repeated beatings and gang rapes, she still managed to
maintain her balance amidst the jolting ride by using only her upper body turned to the other side. Some pots and cups, along with a low lacquered tea table,
were brought by the mounted servants. There were no more young girls serving wine and meat; the official had only ordered the foreman woman. The woman's
disheveled hair was hastily tied into a ponytail, with a clear
bamboo comb inserted from the back of her head towards her neck. The woman's face now resembled a female pig's head, but she remained composed and tidy, kneeling
beside the guest, lighting a red clay tea stove.
A table and a stove. Carried deep into the forest, they sat on the grass, waiting for the dawn. For a 　　man named Wang,
born with a silver spoon in his mouth, granted five hundred miles of land, supervising officials and observing the people in the name of the royal family, training troops and building up power based on the royal surname to protect the country and the state, 　　to lose a large ship every hour just for the life or death of a naked wild woman—how melancholy and sorrowful, how idle and indifferent! 　　The idly placed porcelain cups have cooled, and the kneeling naked woman in silver shackles picks them up and gently splashes them. After 　　the third time, Wang says, "I know where she is. Let's go." 　　Last night, a guest went down to the terrace to choose a bow and horse for himself and glanced at me. He said, "Brother Luo, 　　shall we go down and take a look together?" He and I did know each other when we were in the capital. Ah, and our 　　friend… this time he was referring to the boss, Pighead. All sorts of people, Pighead and I, rode all sorts of horses for a 　　night and a morning, and now we set off together, following a king in disguise to find Pighead. This time, we 　　walked all the way to the outermost edge of the hunting grounds' perimeter wall. The log wall was densely covered with inch-long spikes, making it 　　impossible to climb. There should still be people patrolling on horseback with dogs outside. The stream meandered down to the flat ground, 　　slowing its pace slightly, half of the stream becoming a shallow bay. There were trees here, but they were sparse; the reeds and rushes were 　　loose and narrow, not particularly suitable for hiding. Moreover, this place had been searched countless 　　times. 　　Wang and his horse charged out of the woods, their speed gradually increasing; he showed no sign of stopping. Ten horses spread out on 　　either side of him, already subtly forming a formation. Eleven warhorses swept across 　　the bay in a single line. 　　The rushing water beneath their hooves and chests surged like a waterfall. As soon as they reached the shallows, Wang changed direction. Both men and horses stopped 　　their charge and stood still. The man said, "She's inside." 　　It was already morning when the little pig stood up from the water. The girl was covered in mud and gravel, 　　obscuring her once smooth, dark skin. A reed tube dangled from her mouth, and she was slightly hunched over. 　　Both her hands were clutching her left ribs. She had limped slightly when she emerged from the water. 　　The piglet must have covered herself in mud and sand, used the hollow reed to breathe, and waited at the bottom of the river until 　　now. The horses had trampled her legs and broken her bones when they charged, leaving her with no way to 　　run. 　　The piglet was clearly in pain as she walked. She dragged herself a few more steps before hitting the final wall. The man 　　remained expressionless, and no one moved their arrows. Only the remaining four dogs seemed eager, 　　barking and lunging, gradually forcing the girl against the wall. The piglet tried to straighten herself against the wall, but her back was surrounded 　　by nails. The dogs drew closer, and she couldn't kick anymore. Perhaps the man would simply let the dogs 　　eat her instead of attacking. The little pig was still a bit hunched over. She twisted her waist, trying to grasp 　　the meaning of that twisting and turning motion. On the third thrust, her left shoulder had already extended forward most of the way. This time, she swung back like a hammer 　　, smashing her shoulder into the nail in the wall. Her arms crossed over her chest, her right elbow 　　swung outward, the force from her waist and abdomen rotating to the right, nailing her right shoulder into the nail again. 　　The little girl's bare arms, covered in cuts, were raised high. Above her head, she 　　gripped two small nail tips tightly. With that fulcrum, she could lift her legs off the ground. She 　　angled her legs slightly outward, thrusting her knees forward, then folding them back towards the wall, forcefully pushing her feet into the nail. 　　She forced both feet into the nail. Her shoulders, back, and buttocks were quite muscular, as were her feet. 　　She used her own flesh to nail herself firmly to the wooden wall, her knees raised, 　　legs spread wide to the left and right. 　　When the little pig first emerged from the water, she probably just wanted something to lean on. To put it more fantastically, 　　perhaps she unknowingly walked to the furthest point and bumped into a wall, and that was it—the end of the road, 　　right? She hammered her shoulders and back into the nails probably just to keep herself standing; she didn't want to lie on the ground and 　　be bitten in the stomach by dogs. But the two times she lifted her legs to force them apart seemed without reason. 　　The little pig's face convulsed, blood trickling from her mouth. She finally managed to speak, hoarsely pleading, "Help me! 　　Help me, my hands!" She was almost out of strength; she couldn't hold onto the nails anymore. The man's two attendants 　　approached from both sides, taking her arms and pulling them left and right, flattening them as they pressed them against the wall… the nails were actually too shallow.

The third attendant took a longbow and pressed it tightly against the girl's wrists. Perhaps in his entire life of archery practice, he had never
shot anyone at such a shameless distance. The little pig spread her arms wide, each wrist impaled with a long arrow.
The arrow shafts fully supported her weight, so she couldn't possibly fall any further. The little pig gritted her teeth, managing to utter
a few words. "You…it's…your turn," the little pig said, "you won't…let…a…
little wild beast like me go.
" This was a gamble wagered by a native girl who only knew how to fight and kill. She used self-destruction to seduce men. Her
tricks in matters of love were so simple, direct, naked, and bloody. Her
innocence and ferocity were a provocation a man faced. Can you imagine that with every thrust, you might
encounter a nail driven in from the opposite direction within her dark, jade-like opening?
In the following half hour, we saw male organs bearing his surname as proof. We must say,
he was exceptionally gifted, graceful as a dragon in flight, elegant as a phoenix in flight. He must have a head the size of a goose egg, a penis as thick as a child's arm,
radiating red light, surrounded by the glow of dawn and purple mist. He could, of course, make a village girl squirt wildly countless times, her vaginal fluids flowing freely,
her eyes rolling back, her consciousness blurred, falling into delirious, extreme pleasure many times.
The fifth hour was for tea, the sixth for sex. After all this, he pulled up his trousers, mounted his horse, and
left. Pighead could now approach the little pig on the wall. He said, "Six hours, six thousand taels of silver
, I'll double it for you… Remember this before you die, I will definitely give you twelve thousand taels of silver."

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