Maik-lings on Assignment
Her performance during the first of the two weeks she has been assigned here has been admirable. She can haul more than Chyou, in fact almost as much as the men, but that is due to her larger size and greater strength (and not being thrown off balance by large breasts). Unlike the others she can load the carts herself. Her bare feet and lack of clothing allow more agility at such moments. A few of the workers probably envy her nudity while they sweat in their uniforms and boots during these hot days, though of course none dare say so. They also probably envy the short swims she takes before and after, even though the creek, fed by melting snow off the mountain, is icy cold. On the other hand they are glad of their boots when treading the crushed stone on the ballast, though a Maik-ling finds that to be no ordeal even though shoeless. All are continually impressed by these girls’ stoicism even though at times by any objective measure they are overburdened.
All Maik-lings are reticent but Fenfeng is more social than her predecessors. She freely chats with the men during lunch break, which she spends doubly impaled on the apparatus which has been installed on one of the tables. (Given the importance of this precision machinery, with each change of Maik-ling it is disassembled and cleaned and, if need be, recalibrated.) Her lunch has to be sparse, given the unsettlement of her innards. A couple of the guards are learning English and she seems to be doing her best to help them despite enduring what the average female would consider an unbearable distraction. The men have learned the rhythms of her body’s responses, and they withhold their words during what the ancient texts call the “sacred moment”, which she experiences on the average eight times before break is over. After the first, regular contractions, her mind is clearer and she can re-engage.
Exposure of so much bare skin to the hot overhead sun normally requires extensive protection but with their lifelong nudity spent in the sunny mountains the Maik-lings do not need it. The remarkable tan which covers their exquisitely formed bodies without interruption -- their bodies seem to glow at times -- is evidence of this acclimation. Nor do rough surfaces require them to wear shoes. Their feet appear normal (though broad and with widely spread toes) but anyone who feels their soles can vouch for their toughness while being soft as nubuck. As you know any Maik-ling can be freely inspected as to any part of her body and when a new one arrives the other workers immediately go to her feet in wonderment.
As a side note the Maik-ya has been seen marching with the Young Pioneers in town so one assumes changes next week.
Evaluation: Fenfeng can clearly handle more. We recommend the loads be increased by 15% for the remainder of her assignment. Meanwhile her performance is to be marked “excellent”.
The initial resistance of our military to the presence of Maik-lings has apparently eased. On my visit I heard nothing but praise. Quiet as they tend to be, these girls always win people over. Also winning is their striving for excellence no matter how harsh the conditions. Surely a naked girl cannot be comfortable spending most of the day in a chilly hanger in this high altitude, mending the uniforms of airmen. But with Qinyang, as with the others, there is no sign of distress, just the natural bodily reactions of goose pimples and stiff nipples, and the occasional rubbing of her arms and wiggling of freezing toes on cold concrete. Despite being surrounded by racks of clothing, and having clothing passing through her hands at all times, she never seems to envy the covering that everyone around her enjoys, or evinces any desire to try it on. Instead she concentrates on being an excellent seamstress, which she is. There is no lack of work for her, given that with the shortage of Nomex due to sanctions the men must use cloth suits which routinely rip with the stresses of flight.
Admittedly some warmth is provided by her body’s natural responses to the intrusions she sits upon, three in number, the first a flat bristly pad that presses against her clitoris, other two of considerably greater size than the male member they ostensibly imitate. During her five-minute “respites” (I believe this is the proper term), of which there are six daily, the hangarmaster flips a switch and a distinct hum is heard which echoes against the corrugated steel above. Shortly after takeoff her breathing becomes heavy, one hears girlish moans, and finally the girl ascends to orgasm. After a few seconds of no doubt unbearably intense discomfort, she relaxes, the throttle easing up; then begins her ascent to another orgasm, before cutting altitude again. This pattern of climb and descent, which repeats perhaps six or seven times before the switch is turned off and she lands, naturally attracts attention and any men who are free tend to stand around her to watch closely.
Airmen start their day at 5:00 a.m. and end it at 3:00 p.m. For her last two hours the Maik-ling stationed here is brought to the airfield club where she joins the one who has been driven from the Exhibition Hall. (Incidentally, in the five months the airfield has been operational there have been no complaints received from Hall personnel as to aircraft noise, despite being only three miles away. The airfield is apparently safely here to stay.) The two girls hug and then climb onto the pedestal, where they apply their tongues to each other in the position known as “sixty-nine”. At this time one sees real affection, as they drop their usual emotionless mask. The two naked girls caress, lick, suck and playfully bite each other tenderly, oblivious to the soda-sipping crowd of clothed adults standing around in rapt attention. They are in their own world. To my surprise one girl sometimes gets on all fours and has her buttocks spread by the other who inserts her tongue into her partner’s anus. From what I understand Maik-lings are trained to reach orgasm in several ways, including anally. Though the recipient of the tongue seems to be making eye contact with the officer in front of her as she cries out, it is apparent that her eyes are actually fixed on a faraway place, a place perhaps only Maik-lings know.
Now a word about last week’s mishap. The investigation has been completed. As you recall Qinyang was the only one in the hangar when Lt. Chen entered at 10:15 a.m. and heard distressed sounds, and suddenly screams. The findings were simple: As Sgt. Cho was leaving the hangar at 9:35 a.m. he mistakenly switched on the “apparatus” under the impression he was activating the runway radar. Fortunately the craft landed successfully without needing that assistance; but the mistake went undetected except of course by the girl herself. It was clearly impossible for her extract herself from the apparatus while it was “operating”, and she was too obedient to protest until she lost conscious control of her voice. It was approximately forty minutes before Lt. Chen happened to arrive. Fortunately a physical exam of the girl revealed no internal damage, as attested by fourteen personnel who used a makeshift speculum and a makeshift anoscope. According to the black box located inside the rear “dildo” the girl reached orgasm seventy-three times during those forty minutes. The only ill effects were weariness and temporary mental disorientation; after two hours’ rest she could once again identify her name and the day of the week. This is not to understate the seriousness of the incident; one shudders to think of the result had the girl been abandoned to ceaseless stimulation for hour after hour. As a result of the investigation the switch to her apparatus has been moved to a dedicated location.
Evaluation: Qinyang is an asset to the airfield and it will be much regretted when the Maik-lings have to leave for school.
According to Dr. Min, the Dean here, the new therapy is succeeding, in spite of its experimental character. Further, faculty and students have all taken well to the Maik-ling involved. Mey-yin, small and self-effacing as she is, would scarcely be noticed in these halls but for her nudity and the care students now take to avoid possibly stepping on her bare toes.
This school serves the prominent and well-to-do who, as most of them grudgingly admit, tend to produce spoiled offspring. Discipline has been a chronic problem here, despite the high academic reputation, and it is the students worst in this regard who have been required to attend this summer term. It has become clear that getting into the minds of these young people is the only solution: they have to be taught to give rather than take, and to pay attention (and careful attention at that) to someone besides themselves. There was some opposition to therapy being compulsory for all 90 summer students but the marked improvement in behavior has quieted any misgivings. As the term goes on the students are acting more and more like responsible adults and the tone of the entire campus has changed.
The therapy in question is done in group sessions, typically six students, a mix of boys and girls. The physiological responses of each Maik-ling have been carefully recorded and studied in the laboratory, of course, though instead of the scholarly articles we are familiar with, the handbook the students are given beforehand contains only a watered-down version. Every two weeks there is a new handbook specific to the new Maik-ling. I was allowed to attend one such session, conducted by Dr. Shin. She led them into her office in the middle of which was an exam table. Mey-yin, whose title is “Therapy Assistant”, was sitting on it demurely, legs crossed, bare feet hanging down.
Dr. Shin led the initial questioning. “Which of my assistant’s nipples is a more direct route to orgasm? Qing?” [names have been changed to preserve confidentiality]
“Uh . . . the left?”
“Correct. . . And which structures on my assistant are unusually large? Ko?”
“The . . . clitoris and . . . the cervix?”
“Correct. . . You are doing well today. . . Miq, can you point out the proper direction of the tongue to elicit anal orgasm? Remember, this is different than it was for my last assistant.”
It was up to the boy to position the Maik-ling. “Please get up on all fours, and display your anus.” The naked girl got up on the table and did as she was told. Miq, a little tentatively, then said, “Spread your buttocks.”
“Mr. Jang!! You should always say ‘please’!”
“Sorry . . . um, please spread your buttocks?”
Mey-yin placed her forehead down on the crinkly paper and brought her hands back to spread as told. The room suddenly smelled of strawberry, the flavor of this morning’s enema. Miq pointed his finger at a place below the pink little asterisk, then swept up at a 45-degree angle. He accidentally flicked the tender flesh and the naked girl suppressed a flinch.
“Yes, very good!” Dr. Shin was apparently surprised at how well her patients had studied.
The questioning went on for about ten more minutes, during which time Mey-yin’s body was turned and spread and stretched as needed to demonstrate various parts of her anatomy and how they were to be attended to. Her nudity contrasted with Dr. Shin’s business suit and the full coverage school uniforms of the students.
The first “hands-on” therapy was done on Miq, who was instructed to bring Mey-yin to orgasm anally. He stood next to the table as she turned around for him. Gently spreading her buttocks, he laved her anus with his tongue, then massaged her buttocks, then gently penetrated into her rectum. A girl and a boy stood to the other side of the table to watch the naked girl’s facial reactions. Apparently no other part of her was to be touched. Miq hummed, sending vibrations into the girl’s sphincter, then apparently made a trilling-r sound, then a “v” sound with his teeth pressed against his lips, seeming to play her entire body like an instrument. His tonguing became more vigorous. Mey-yin, moaning, put her head down onto her crossed arms so as to make herself more accessible. Orgasm arrived about two minutes later.
Dr. Shin made a note. Each student’s “performance” was being graded. Ji was then instructed to manipulate and then tongue Mey-yin’s clitoris. I took this to be an easier assignment. My guess is that Dr. Shin gives each student what he/she can handle and has them advance from there. Mey-yin lay on her back and spread her legs. Qing and Ko grasped her feet to each side, intertwining their fingers with the naked girl’s toes. This orgasm took about one minute to achieve.
The session went on like this for a while, singly and in combinations of two or three bringing Mey-yin to orgasm cooperatively. Not only does this therapy teach selflessness, it teaches teamwork. In the process Mey-yin’s body was spread and twisted and contorted in new ways. Dr. Shin explained to me later that grading was on four “axes”: time to orgasm, intensity (Maik-lings are instructed to either moan, cry out or scream accordingly), number of contractions, and post-orgasmic response. I am told that a Maik-ling having an especially intense orgasm will shed tears immediately afterward which is a bonus point.
Finally Dr. Shin said, “Now the full team effort. Elicit from my assistant six sequential orgasms, one each from the station I will assign you.” The stations turned out to be left nipple, right nipple, clitoris, right and left labia, and anus. The room was humid by now with Mey-yin’s secretions and it was apparent that Miq, Rij and San, the three boys, found themselves with stiff penises. I assume Dr. Shin’s three female patients had stiff nipples, hidden under their blouses and bras. What I saw then was like a symphony, or maybe a concerto, all six working on Mey-yin’s body, and when an orgasm approached the others drew back while one student “played” the body part assigned, like musicians standing up to do their solos. Sequential orgasms (in which there is only a slight valley between climaxes) are well suited to these group sessions. Very few women can achieve them, but it is a faculty all the Maik-lings possess.
The session lasted 45 minutes after which the students and Dr. Shin left the room, leaving Mey-yin lying on the table to recuperate. There are three sessions a day at which Mey-yin assists. (Dr. Shin does three others which are just straight talking therapy.) I have been told that sessions such as this are not only held in Dr. Shin’s office but outdoors on the quad, weather permitting. There is talk of getting parental consent (these students are not yet 21) for a public demonstration in the auditorium at the Qinghai University School of Psychology.
Interestingly, confidentiality is not enforced when the students talk among themselves. I found this out when I ate with Mey-yin in the cafeteria. She was, as usual, silent over her sparse salad, so we could easily overhear the students in the next table talk about the way they had brought her to orgasm that morning, or yesterday; the techniques they had used; how the naked girl’s face reflected her responses; ideas on how her orgasms could be extended; and so on. I even heard a girl imitate Mey-yin’s cries at climax, followed by another girl imitating a stronger one. To my surprise there was no boasting. These students had been profoundly changed and were, if anything, expressing wonderment.
I understand Maik-lings are expected to “give” forty orgasms per day, if their assignment makes it possible. They usually employ an apparatus, but Mey-yin has no need for one, since she meets that quota in her work as a therapist assistant. The same is true of the Maik-lings who preceded her, and will be true of her replacements.
Evaluation: Once the summer ends the continuing use of Maik-lings as therapy assistants should be looked into. This is a modality that should be more widely used, without impinging on the importance of their other tasks.
The spread-eagled, tied up girl was clearly uncomfortable, twisting and twitching, but she was being attacked by ants crawling all over her, and not likely to leave their girl-shaped paradise of sticky syrup. Greater numbers invaded the crease between her buttocks, and her vulva, and her armpits, areas onto which the substance had been laid especially thick. Ants congregated between her toes and all over her face. She could keep her eyes and mouth closed but invasion of her nostrils was unavoidable. Sharp exhales were necessary to expel the tiny invaders. Her agonized whimpering was good acting but probably also genuine.
If I have painted a graphic picture, it is only to illustrate the effectiveness of the scene wrought by the director and his film crew. On the monitors I could see the benefits of the bright, unforgiving klieg lights in extreme closeup: the shadows of Chyou’s large, fear-stiffened nipples were starkly visible, as were the shadows of her individual pubic hairs, even the shadows of the ants. I am told these are harvester ants, which bite! This is only a semi-classified shooting so there were about twenty of us viewing from afar as the beleaguered girl writhed on the brightly lit, elevated table. She was re-tied to spread her legs more widely so that ants could be seen entering the dark space between her labia. Then she was placed in a prone position and her anus opened up with a short tube through which ants were poured into her rectum. More whimpering ensued.
Chyou is bearing up as well as the other Maik-lings have on this assignment. Though no doubt unpleasant, being attacked by ants was not the most difficult thing they have been asked to do. A normal girl would in short order be screaming, driven out of her mind, but little Chyou endured the ordeal of the ants for over an hour as the director took advantage of every angle. An actress who can perform such a scene is a rare treasure. The Maik-lings have given a great boost to the shadow economy as well as making contributions to Guanxi which frankly stun our visitors.
Of course, the producers make sure Chyou is not harmed; physical damage to any Maik-ling is a capital offense. After this scene was shot Chyou, her legs shaking, sticky arms raised away from her body, was led outdoors, where ants and syrup were meticulously scrubbed off her by the four-man crew. Then the rest of the “supporting cast” was flushed out of her with a douche and an enema. The many bites (which would soon disappear) were soothed with lotion.
The rest of the day was taken up with a trip to the mountain where Chyou was filmed climbing rocks. It is quite cold up there but this is of no concern to a Maik-ling. Nor are rocks a trial for her tough bare feet, or the steepness of the climb (she ascended about a hundred meters) for her remarkable stamina. In post-production they will cut it so that it looks like she is climbing a ledge over a bottomless pit. A scene was also shot for use in another film, with two men in full-coverage climbing gear portraying her companions as they scaled the heights together. Apparently this is a film with a plot, where she is leading a commando team in a combat situation. It is interesting that she seems to climb with bare feet more comfortably than the men in their climbing shoes. Why she is the only one naked, I am told, is never to be explained, but her character is nude the entire movie, including a scene where she is addressing a legislature of some sort. Chinese pornography is getting more inventive to the point where some say we are pulling even with the Japanese.
The next day was another arduous assignment for Chyou, again tied down as wax was dripped onto her from candles held by masked men. Wax cools swiftly and does no damage. She was told to struggle in her bonds and scream with every fiery drip. She did that well; in fact all the Maik-lings are good actors. That afternoon was another outdoor shoot, where she portrayed a girl being stripped in the middle of what was convincingly depicted as a public square, with just enough “extras” to make it look crowded. Of course Maik-lings are not allowed to be clothed so another woman, facing away from the camera, played the character as the clothes were being ripped off. Then the totally naked Chyou was told to act embarrassed, hiding her breasts and her pubic area with her hands, cringing and squatting. This was indeed a difficult task for a Maik-ling, a stranger to bodily modesty, and Chyou was not quite convincing. None of the Maik-lings would be, one imagines.
Chyou’s breasts have developed markedly over the past couple of months and this change has been taken advantage of. Much of her “oeuvre” seems to involve her breasts hanging down, bouncing around, tied up in various ways, being jostled or squeezed, or her nipples clipped with clothespins or attacked with ice cubes or jelly. For one pose her breasts were wrapped with coils of ribbon so that they protruded amazingly far away from her body. Of course all this is done within limits so that no marks are left, or rather, any marks created disappear in a few hours.
There was one shoot where I was really concerned. Chyou was on all fours on a pedestal to which her hands and ankles were cuffed, while an immense dildo was being pistoned into her rectum. It pierced her from a 45-degree overhead angle and was driven by a cam. Her large breasts hung down to the pedestal base on which was glued rough sandpaper, and as they swung ponderously to and fro her nipples, proportionally just as large, were scraped over and over. Sandpapering nipples over such a long period of time -- the shoot lasted over an hour -- has to cause damage. However I was shown later that the “sandpaper” was actually burlap. It provided stimulation, helping her achieve (it turned out) four orgasms, while being harmless.
Perhaps it is important to note that I noticed Chyou run into the Maik-ya. Through the window I saw her waiting outside to be driven to the mountain and the Maik-ya was there, waiting to be taken to one of his many assignments. Each was of course surprised; likely it was the first time either had seen a naked person of the opposite gender. Being strangers to clothes and shoes, neither was fazed by the chill wind or the rough gravel. Chyou’s gaze was naturally drawn to the Maik-ya’s considerable genitals, the output of which is as important to the People’s Struggle as the activities of Maik-lings. After a no doubt awkward silence I could see them talking, in the way that age group does, though I could not make out what they were saying.
Evaluation: In strictly economic terms this is perhaps the most important summer assignment for a Maik-ling. It is also the most demanding and efforts at improvement should be focused not on what the girl does but how it could be most extensively exploited.
It is difficult for a smallish girl like Jing to accommodate penises of such dimensions, though that is probably an effect of the Taoist regimen. The fourteen monks in this shrine strictly observe their discipline; as a result their members, always erect, are veiny and distended. So too are their testicles, bluish and bulbous, with a network of veins that seems almost to pulsate. To them these are symbols of the strength of their essence, their emulation of Shiva who maintained an erection all his life and never once succumbed to orgasm.
Jing is treated kindly, of course, and in this respect her assignment is not onerous. Though, consistent with their philosophy, she does “subordinate” female tasks like cooking and cleaning, these are not difficult because the monks are tidy by nature and eat sparingly. She has her own room in the shrine with a beautiful view of the valley. It is always cold up here but the sun is warm and she likes hiking the trails in between her tasks, despite the snow being slippery under her bare feet. She seems to enjoy her few periods of solitude.
Typically she participates in four meditations a day. They might not seem to be “meditations” as far as she is concerned, because her role is to be brought to as many orgasms as possible. She climaxes very loudly so the shrine is not a quiet place as one would think, particularly since the prescribed position, where she straddles on top, allows greater lungpower and projection. The monks believe her orgasms draw her “yin” essence into them and as one watches each man almost motionless below the spasming girl, holding onto her buttocks so as to carefully control movement, eyes closed and breathing evenly, he really looks like he is meditating.
They themselves have no “yin” to spare; a man supposedly wastes it in orgasm. Consequently the practice of the monk is to stay on the very brink without going over, making himself maximally receptive to the yin when the walls of the female convulse around his erection. He has learned to press and slide his hardness against the clitoris to provoke as many climaxes as can be coaxed out of her in two hours. At the level these monks have achieved, one ejaculation wastes several years’ worth of yin, or so they tell me, with the resulting loss of vitality and life force. When he feels orgasm becoming imminent, he “pulls himself back” by stopping all motion and taking rhythmic deep breaths. Inside the girl the erection enlarges and hardens and then subsides, though only slightly. In the space of two hours a typical monk pulls himself back perhaps a hundred times.
Nor is the building up of yin limited to the meditations. The monks’ penises are always erect, as one can plainly tell, and their robes are made of rough cloth that provides friction the entire day. A type of miniature hammock below frictions the testicles. Pre-ejaculatory fluid is an expected consequence, which is collected in a cup hung from a string tied behind the glans, which with the constant tumescence, never slips off. At bedtime the bloated, aching testicles are tied back to prevent ejaculation during sleep.
Before this summer the monks had difficulty finding women to provide them yin. Chinese women, as we know, tend to be sexually prudish. Also they probably fear the stigma attached to counterrevolutionary activities before the regimen was modified in line with Party teachings. The monks are unanimous in saying the Maik-lings have been (as one put it) “sent from the heaven worlds”. Jing, in particular, can work her inner muscles in a manner sure to force quick ejaculation in the average man. Further via the “sizing” system they use, her tight vagina (“deer”) fits very snugly around their penises (they are all “whales”). The monks appreciate this quality greatly; it allows a quicker and closer approach to the brink, perhaps right on top of it, the long-sought-after “knife-edge”. In fact in their first encounters with Jing it took great willpower and extreme muscle tension to prevent sudden ruination. The effect is most pronounced on Hadji, the youngest monk, who was taken in by the monks as a child and at age nineteen has never known what an orgasm feels like, and I assume he never will, despite always being on the edge of it. He has to empty his cup several times a day; his penis is always twitching and he seems to have difficulty walking.
And what about little Jing? She seems tired from all the yin being wrung from her. I am told the same was true of the Maik-lings who preceded her. One must remember that the monks are continuing a male supremacist tradition and their practices can be seen as vampiristic.
During the school year Maik-lings have no problem giving the required forty orgasms per day. This is well exceeded in Jing’s case. The monks keep careful count and last week she contributed three hundred ninety-seven. While the monks all taken together, of course, had a total of zero.
Evaluation: One might ask whether in this case the physical limits of Maik-lings have been overstepped. Whatever one might think of the benefits of yin essence, this assignment is clearly exhausting. Furthermore the utility of Tao to the People’s Struggle was long discounted and even with the new modified ideology is still hotly debated. It may be questioned whether gifting their many orgasms to these monks is a worthy use of the girls’ time. I recommend the Headmaster reevaluate this assignment.
In spite of her nudity the young teacher controls her class tightly. As I sit in the back observing I notice there is no fooling around. Today she is putting them through their paces as to Spanish verb declensions. Now she gives them a five-minute writing assignment as she goes behind her desk for a short spell on her “apparatus”. She keeps her moans muffled so as to not disrupt the students’ concentration. It is perhaps impossible to have these devices inside her while keeping control of a class, which is why she then rises off the apparatus to teach in simple nakedness. The classroom is cold; her nipples are erect and some of the students, already in full coverage school uniforms, have put on sweaters. Her hard bare feet pace the floor as she calls on a girl in the back row to use the pluperfect subjunctive in a sentence. She calls on a boy in the first row, turning so that not only her eyes but her stiff nipples are pointing at him.
Given their level of academic excellence, it is not surprising that each Maik-ling, on her rotation here, can teach a full day of classes in five different subjects. Most interesting is the fourth class which is orchestra. Most of the students are not very skilled (yet) but as a conductor Liena is top notch. Up on a podium that exposes her nude body to anyone looking, music stand raised up in front of her, she waves her baton in strict time, her breasts bouncing, giving cues with her right hand, at times emphasizing the beat by thudding the podium with her tough bare heel. Observing from behind I see she even flexes her tight gluteal muscles in rhythm. Yet she is patient with those of lesser ability. She stops the music and helps the trumpeter fix that cracked note, corrects the snare drummer with the improper grip. She seems to specialize in strings and gives the second violins a little lesson in vibrato. It is quite enchanting seeing her play, her breasts quivering ever so slightly as she gives soulful expression to a low note on the G string.
Another interesting class is art, for which she is the figure model. She poses on a pedestal for five minutes then goes behind the easels to examine the results. “You didn’t get my breast quite right . . . see here . . .” In showing a student how to “render” she fashions a few left-handed strokes on his newspad; they are skillful. Maik-lings can do anything, it seems, and do it well. Now she poses again, this time stretched out in an “X”. Amusingly, the principal comes by and asks her to sign off on a test score. She quickly looks down at it, signs her initials, and lifts her arms again. Another teacher, an older woman in business attire, arrives to set up the final pose. Liena spreads her legs on the pedestal as the woman applies her skills to Liena’s vulva. A student stands in front with a smart phone. It is less than a minute to orgasm and several photos are snapped. Liena picks one of them and via transfer to a laptop it is projected on the blank wall to the side. The students study it carefully, then set their pencils to their own interpretations of Liena’s face during orgasm, her mouth contorted, eyebrows angled crazily, her eyes opened as if in surprise, or maybe fiercely admonishing her students to do a good job.
Sitting at the rear wall, I see right next to me a sketching of the Maik-ya. He must have been here recently. The face is not too clear but looking at the slight body, the narrow waist and the genitals which are done in detail, the identity of the model is obvious. Also the pose, which is of someone who is used to nudity yet still somehow shy.
Then there is the gymnasium class where Liena leads the opening calisthenics. She hardly breaks a sweat as she does the jumping jacks and squat thrusts, her breasts jiggling or pointing depending on her posture. The slap of tough soles can be heard amid the thudding of sneakers.
The Home Economics class today is on the history of fashion. The naked girl, who lives without clothes, is very knowledgeable as to shirring patterns and the use of rayon and other synthetics in the years after World War II. She even reaches into the closet and fetches a rayon work dress from 1953. She holds it up on its hanger, pointing out the seam design. It is side by side with her body and it’s her size, and I try to imagine her wearing it, but I can’t. It just would not seem proper.
When school lets out Liena can be seen in the teacher’s lounge. Despite being so much younger (and lacking clothes) there is a conversation about the voyages of Zheng He in which she is holding her own, albeit respectfully. Afterwards she goes outside for ground crew work, today mulching the community garden, heaving clods of peat and patting them down to an even level with her skilled bare feet. Around her men and women toil in their work uniforms, mowing grass, emptying out recycling bins, watering shrubs and flowers.
Evaluation: The Maik-lings must enjoy this assignment the most. Much of it could be done by others, but it serves as a “breather” between their other labors. Liena is very good at it and is a natural leader.
The Exhibition Hall is huge and can hold thousands, but it seemed almost vacant when I first visited. Above the stage at the far end Zhenzhen’s body was suspended in mid-air, ropes pulling her apart by the wrists and ankles. Red-clad matrons turned windlasses on each balcony which stretched the girl out to the limits of her elasticity, emphasizing the concavity of her tummy under her ribs. She had her eyes closed, as if praying, while businessmen and women from around the world circled around, some with drinks in their hands, some even carrying food from the buffet.
Guanxi Exhibition activities have been described in detail elsewhere so I will be brief. Besides being stretched by ropes Zhenzhen was viewed by me in one other position, when she was being mechanically pounded from behind by a motorized dildo which was made to thrust far up her rectum. She was up on a padded platform, on her knees, with her arms grasping an overhead bar. Her nipples were squeezed by clips on telescoped struts which allowed them to rotate half a turn one way and then the other. The combination of pain and pleasure resulted in unusual screams which the visitors enjoyed greatly. On other occasions she was exhibited in various corners of the hall lifting weights, doing a gymnastic routine, swimming and tumbling underwater in a glass tank of icy water, and even just reading a book while sitting in an open bottomed chair. This last was a great sensation for some reason. Even more so when in the same position she urinated into a bowl set below.
This was the one Maik-ling I was allowed to interview, which I did on three occasions, but only the last was of any length. On the first, she was stretched out on the ropes, but her attention was distracted in many directions. Through inventive use of chairs and platforms, she was being attended to by ten matrons: one on each nipple, one on her vulva, one behind spreading her buttocks to noodle into her anus, two on each foot (one sucking the big toe, the other on her other toes), and two more standing and teasing her sides and her buttocks with gigantic feathers. There was so much in the way of red matron uniform that there was very little of the girl visible. I had to shout my questions and needless to say she was not able to carry on any kind of conversation while being so licked and sucked and teased, though she tried valiantly. Her muscles being stretched by the ropes results in more intense orgasms, a fact which about a minute later was well demonstrated.
The second setting was much quieter, though she was in another suspended position. She and I were alone in a side room. For some reason the ropes on her ankles had been pulled so as to split apart and raise her legs so that her face was half hidden from me, eclipsed by her crotch which was at my eye level. Her eyes were just above the line of site of her anus, so that I was conversing with the pink puckered orifice as much as with her face.
She spoke first, her mouth hidden behind her nether parts. “Good afternoon, Mr. Zhu.” Maik-lings are always respectful, just as everyone else respects them in return.
“Good afternoon, Zhenzhen. I have some questions, if you don’t mind. . . Do you enjoy your summer assignments?”
“We are doing our part in the People’s Struggle.”
Unfortunately this was the answer I was expecting. Trying to look at up her eyes and not her anus, I said, “Do you mind being so totally exposed?”
“I am a Maik-ling. Maik-lings do not wear clothes.” This, of course, did not really answer the question.
“I understand your part in the People’s Struggle is to have orgasms while on display.”
“I have . . . ‘come’ . . . thirteen times so far today.” Her anus twitched, I am sure unconsciously.
“You must experience a great deal of pleasure.”
“Pleasure is not something we think about. It is our part in the Struggle.”
I feared I was getting nowhere, hearing just Party boilerplate. I was formulating another question when the interview was terminated by a matron coming in with a photo crew.
It was only the third time when I got some real questioning in. I had to get up practically in the middle of the night, given the three-hour drive. Shortly after daybreak I emerged from the car, took a deep breath of the freezing Gobi Desert air, put on my gloves and hat, watched an airplane fly off from the nearby airfield, and walked to the rear loading dock. Among the men in work garb was the naked Zhenzhen, hefting garbage bags into a dumpster. At one point she even jumped in to rearrange something, her hard bare feet making a metallic thudding sound as she landed. It must have been disgusting work.
When they were all finished the men went back into the building and Zhenzhen hopped off the dock and walked over to me. I looked her up and down as she approached. She was stained all over with leaks of garbage. Her pubic hair was caked with gray dust. Her toes were smudged with whatever vile black goo was at the bottom of that dumpster. So was her left hand. I knew that she would soon clean off with a hot shower inside the Hall -- with visitors watching of course -- but to see such beauty tarnished was disheartening.
Once again, she initiated the conversation, with a courtesy.
“Good morning, Mr. Zhu.” As she stood respectfully before me I noticed that one of her cold-stiffened nipples was marked with what looked like ketchup. With so many American visitors the crudities of the American diet here are an unavoidable presence. She also smelled vaguely of stale hamburger.
“I just have a few more questions. . . Do you take out the garbage every day?”
“Yes. Also I sweep the floors at night, and close the skylight.”
“How do you do that?”
“I climb up the ropes. There is a ladder near the top. I turn a winch which closes it.”
“Have you ever been hurt by one of those . . . demonstrations?”
“Of course not. Nothing can hurt us Maik-lings. Though sometimes it is uncomfortable.” This must have been an understatement. I remembered her nipples being twisted and her cries of what must have been pain.
“What do you think about, when you are stretched out in those ropes?”
“Mostly school things. When you first saw me I was conjugating French verbs.”
Though her face was smudged and dirty I must note that Zhenzhen is stunningly beautiful. All the Maik-lings are pretty but this one is mesmerizing.
Again I asked, “Does being so exposed ever bother you?”, hoping to get a different answer this time.
Alas, no. “I am a Maik-ling. Maik-lings do not wear clothes.” She thought for a second and elaborated. “We do not need clothes. Or shoes.” I have to admit, this appears to be a true statement.
“Did you talk to the American girl you replaced?” Uniquely among the Maik-lings, Zhenzhen had been yanked from school early for this purpose. This two-week stint was her second.
“We met once, when I was first brought into the Hall, but we couldn’t talk. She was onstage giving an orgasm and we spoke only with our eyes.” (Maik-lings never speak of “having” an orgasm; it’s always “giving” an orgasm, to the cause of the People.) In a concession to the cold, she hugged herself.
I longed to take off my coat and drape it over her delicate shoulders but she would have been much insulted. “Do you Maik-lings share your . . . impressions about this summer’s assignments?”
She looked down at her grimy, freezing feet, as if wondering if she should answer. Then she looked up at me, the rising sun shining in her eyes, and said, “We talk at home on weekends.”
I decided to chance it. “Have you met the Maik-ya?”
“No. Only Chyou has. We’ve heard of him though.”
“What did she say?”
“He’s a nice boy. Shy. He’s invited to our place anytime.”
“I understand he’s very busy.”
“Yes.” Again, she looked down. Then she said, “If he visits us we will let him rest.” This in fact is a widely shared sentiment.
“I understand he’s a very good cook.”
For a moment I thought she was going to smile. But she didn’t. Maik-lings are disturbingly humorless. I wondered if I should pry further but decided against it. She would say as much as she thought she was allowed to. After rubbing her arms again, she finally gave in to shivering. “I’ve g - got to g - go. Have a g - good day, Mr. Zhu.” And with that she scampered off on her tough bare feet, over sandy soil and rocks and the occasional patch of frost. With a running jump she hopped onto the loading dock and disappeared into the rear entrance.
Evaluation: This, of course, is the assignment dedicated mostly to Gaunxi. The Maik-lings are worthy successors to the American girl they replaced, and it is perhaps more appropriate that the center of attention be a Chinese girl. Zhenzhen knows this assignment backwards and forwards and it is recommended she again be released from school when possible.
Saturday Morning, 8 a.m.
“Hee hee hee!!” Zhenzhen’s giggling was uncontrollable, echoing through the clear mountain air against the rocks down in the grotto. She tipped over from her cross-legged position on the table. “Oh damn!!” She wiped off the dressing that had dripped from her celery stick onto her stiff nipple. In the process she tipped over further and to avoid falling off the table, kicked her leg out the other side.
“Hey! Watch out!” Zhenzhen’s bare foot had almost toppled Liena’s plate. Liena was spread out too, one foot propped lazily on the wooden table, the other extended underneath to Jing’s knee, who was sitting opposite. In a minor concession to the cold air, Jing shivered slightly, then continued with her breakfast, vegan except for the poached spiced eggs, savory steam rising in the cold. Then she gulped down more of the orange juice.
“You’re really shoveling it in,” Qinyang observed.
“I have to, after those monks,” Jing said. “They really drain me.”
“Oh -- they’re horrid!” Qinyang said, making a show of closing her legs and wrapping her arms around her breasts. She was at the head of the table, which she and Mey-yin had constructed and polished a few months ago. “When they plow those huge -- things into me, it’s like I’m a butterfly impaled on a pin.”
“They sure know how to pull those O’s out of us, though,” Chyou said. The girls nodded.
“They’re not really bad guys,” Jing said. “I feel sorry for that young one though.”
“Yes, him . . . His whole life has been spent on the edge of orgasm. And he’s never ‘come’, not once.”
“They think that’s good.”
“But -- does he think that’s good?”
“He might not know any better.”
“He’s like the opposite of the Maik-ya.” They all nodded.
Chyou chewed her celery thoughtfully. “The Maik-ya . . . is bigger than the monks.”
“Really?” There was general astonishment. Chyou, eyes wide open, slowly nodded.
“Another reason he has a rough life,” Liena said. General agreement.
“If we ever can invite him here, we’ll let him sleep in the loft, just eat and sleep, walk around, hike on the trail, just let him be alone,” said Zhenzhen, who was back to sitting up cross-legged, drinking her juice.
There was a lull in conversation as the girls ate on the patio. Behind them the snowy caps of the Qilian Mountains shone in the brilliant morning sunshine. Above was deep blue sky. It was only about seven degrees Celsius, but that does not bother Maik-lings. Soon it would warm up.
The patio abutted their house, a simple three-room structure largely constructed by the girls themselves on the weekends. It had a kitchen, an activities room, and a small bedroom taken up mostly by a huge communal futon with no blankets. There were no doors between the rooms. The house had a somewhat vacant look due to the absence of any clothing or footwear. On the walls the girls had painted various creations, mountains, well drawn figures (all of them nudes), abstract color schemes, mathematical equations, quotations from classic Chinese texts, a few corny juvenile jokes. The walls were pretty crowded by now. A low table held a chessboard with the pieces still where Liena had trapped Chyou into stalemate last week. There was no bathroom; the toilet and shower were in the open air, attached to the side of the house.
“Watch out! An ant!!” Mey-yin said, pointing with urgency at Chyou’s elbow.
Chyou jumped to her side. There was no ant. This caused a riot of laughter and made Zhenzhen giggle more. Chyou said, “The last thing I want to see right now is an ant!!”
Liena wiggled her butt. “I think a couple that went in me last month are still in there. . .” She looked down at her tummy. “How’re you doing, guys?”
“Ewww . . .!” said Zhenzhen, clutching her butt, tipping onto her side again until her head met the table. This did not stop her from turning toward the house and shouting, “Sleepy head!!” More echoes from down in the grotto.
Fenfeng, eyes still half shut, stumbled out, rubbing her head, her hair a wild mess. She idly scratched her pubic hair. The tall girl sat down next to Chyou and looked sleepily out at the mountains, squinting in the bright glare. Then she smiled and reached over to grab Chyou’s breasts as if they were grapefruit she was checking out at a fruit stand. “They grow any more last night?”
“Mine are growing too,” Mey-yin said, holding hers up for the others to look at.
“I can’t tell,” Qinyang said.
Liena said, shaking her head, “I think by this point . . .”
“You don’t want big ones,” Chyou said. “Men stare at them, and they hurt when I run. . . You wouldn’t believe the ways those film people think of torturing them. . . Poor babies!” She picked one up in both her smallish hands and kissed it, then the other. General chuckling.
Liena looked at Fenfeng, still half asleep. “You look really wiped out.”
“Maybe I’m getting old,” Fenfeng said, exhaling. “They had me pull thirty-seven loads yesterday. . . They think that just because I’m bigger than the rest of you I’m some kind of female Hercules. Lugging all the Hydra’s heads to Eurystheus.”
“Well we all are female Hercules, in a way,” Liena said. “Nothing can hurt us.”
“That,” Zhenzhen said, “is the Truth of Truths.” The girls at the table held their hands up, except for Zhenzhen, lying on her side, who put up her foot. The six hands and one foot all touched as they gave their cheer. “Go -- Maik-lings!!”
A moment later Chyou shifted uncomfortably, then drew her foot up onto the table, spreading her expressive toes.
“What’s wrong?” Liena said.
“I think an ant bit my cervix yesterday.”
“Let me see.”
Chyou got onto the table, lay on her back, and spread her legs. Maik-lings have great control over their internal muscles and can open their vaginas at will. Liena spread the labia. The brilliant glare from the snowy mountains behind her allowed her to see inside. Cold, clear mountain air hit Chyou’s cervix. “Looks o.k. to me.” Qinyang came up next to her and also looked. The atmosphere was as casual as if she was showing them a scratch on her finger. “I don’t see anything.” As Chyou got back down onto the bench again Liena said, “You probably got bit but it’s harmless. The sting will go away. It did with me.”
“It did with me too,” Qinyang said.
“Me also,” Zhenzhen said.
Fenfeng roused herself to go to the kitchen and came back with toast with jam and vegan potato salad. As she ate she said, “It’s been an interesting summer but I kind of want to go back to school.”
“It’s only three weeks away,” Qinyang said.
Liena said, “We should get that wood stove repaired in time for winter.”
Qinyang said, “We’re out of gas for the torch.”
“I can ask Ms. Qing to get us some more.” Ms. Qing, who drove the bus during the school year, came by on Sundays with clothes for the girls to mend, and in return she brought them things from town that only those over the age of twenty-one are allowed to buy.
Liena looked at the cord or so of firewood off to the side and said, “We should cut more wood too.”
“It’s already August,” Qinyang said. “It won’t cure in time.”
“I mean for next year.”
Chyou chewed and swallowed and then cleared her throat. “I got asked The Question again this week.” They all know what she meant.
“Who was it?”
“One of the film crew guys. ‘Don’t you ever want to put something on?’”
Mey-yin shuddered, and not because of the cold. “Clothes! Ughh!”
“And shoes! Akkk!” Jing said. She brought her foot up onto the table and intertwined her fingers with her toes, enjoying their freedom.
The girls cleaned up, washing the dishes in the outdoor sink, drying them with one of the four towels they owned, the only cloth they possessed except for the slipcover on the futon. Jing went down to the big yard to feed the chickens, then decided to take a dip in the creek. Mey-yin and Chyou were soon playing ping-pong on the table under the lean-to. The quartet opened their cases in the activities room but then decided to play at the table, in the open air: Liena on first violin, Qinyang on second violin, Zhenzhen on viola, Fenfeng on cello. They quickly warmed up on Schubert (easy stuff) and then got to serious work on Beethoven’s Great Fugue, Op. 133.
Later in the warm afternoon Zhenzhen climbed up onto the sturdy oak roof and lay down between the solar panels. She closed her eyes in the bright sun, feeling the warm, smooth wood underneath her butt. Chyou soon joined her. As Zhenzhen lazily looked to her side she saw Chyou’s breasts topped with erect nipples, and beyond them the Qilian topped with snowy caps. Two sets of mountains. The naked girls held hands and fell asleep in the warm sun. The best pleasures in life are the simplest.