Huang the Hunter
Part 1


Old Huang drew his bow and released the nocked arrow in a single fluid motion. He might have been fifty years old and his hair tinged with gray but he was still strong. The imperial pheasant's call was cut off in mid-cry as it dropped out of the air in a burst of blood and feathers, dead even before it hit the ground.

So intent was the hunter on recovering his kill that he failed to see the little stone pig at the edge of the trees. It marked the boundary of the Boar Duke's private game preserve. Not that Huang would have given up the bird if he had noticed it, however. The pheasant was a plump prize and he hadn't eaten anything more than a skinny rabbit the day before. Besides, its long tail feathers were worth quite a bit in T'unyin, the large military town down the mountain.

It was Huang's bad luck that the Fifth Royal Duke's gamekeepers found him only after he'd picked up the bird. There was no way he could deny his crime. Or get away. The ducal wardens might have been smaller and shorter than him, but they were well-armed and well-trained soldiers who normally defended Langang's northern borders against the budding Han empire. In addition, they were also accompanied by the Beastlord's huge, specially trained hunting boars. The beasts would have brought him down in seconds if he'd tried to run.

Observing their prisoner's thickly muscled torso and powerful arms, the keepers bound him with braided leather cords dipped in the juice of green wuchi fruit. Each time the hunter strained against them, they shrank back even more tightly. By the time they prodded him to his knees before their youthful commander, the wicked ropes were cutting into his flesh like knives.

True to their military traditions, the Duke's gamekeepers had stripped Huang of everything but his threadbare loincloth and the thin, sweat drenched fabric stuck to the hunter's manly jewels, outlining every inch of the long, meaty manhood and large, heavy balls which dangled between hi's strong legs. Even kneeling, Prince Sui could see that the luckless poacher was a splendid specimen of matured manliness. The Duke's youngest son licked his lips as he rose from his seat.

The gamekeepers smiled behind their sleeves. It would have been too dangerous to do otherwise. Their captain might have been only eighteen years old but he had a reputation for exquisitely refined sexual cruelty. Nor had the royal soldier been given his post because of his family connections. The Imperial Boar Prince had an unparallelled grasp of military sciences and was known to be expert with sword and lance. He had already fought and won six skirmishes and two outright battles since being posted to T'unyin, a scant eleven months ago.

"If you wanted to please your father, you would send that to him for his medical hall," Tutor Lui spoke up from where he sat. Of all those who lived in the border city, he alone had the privilege of speaking to the prince without ceremony, for it was he that taught the would-be ruler the most important lessons in life and court politics.

"I should make sure that he won't be a disappointment first, shouldn't I?"

"Most certainly," the imperial mentor agreed, "Besides, we have to get his dragon milk flowing properly before he'll be any use to those crazy shamans. You wouldn't want to entrust that particular task to any of your ham-handed underlings, would you?"

Prince Sui's smile was all the reply he got but Tutor Lui was satisfied. His young charge understood how potent the manly juices from such a massively muscled and generously endowed man would be for brewing elixirs. That the hunter looked to be about fifty was even better. In the ancient empire of Lanfang, a young man's essences were considered to be green like unripe fruit whereas blood and semen extracted by sexual torture from a man of matured years was like fine wine and invaluable to the medicine men. And if their victim were strong and virile enough to produce copious amounts of both in spite of his age, then his bodily fluids were worth their weight in gold.

The prince turned to his men, "Take him to the yamen."

He didn't have to tell them what else they needed to do. No citizen of Lanfang was ignorant of their doctors' strange practices. The bewildered hunter was a simple tribesman, however, and knew nothing of such esoteric matters. When his captors stripped him naked and hung him by his wrists from the thickest beam in the yamen's dungeon and then made sure to force his legs wide apart before chaining his ankles securely to two of the many stone pillars, Huang the hunter suspected that a most painful time awaited him. He did not have long to wait.


1




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