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  • Writer's picturedonnylaja

the bottom, interviewed

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.

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