Ling and the Temple Raiders: Part 2
by T. Prince, tk_prince@hotmail.se
A tougher, more experienced Ling takes on a new batch of temple raiders.



A year and a half after the notorious defeat and humiliation of Lena and her 
gang of mercenaries, Ling had managed to turn busting temple raiders into 
a highly lucrative business. Her office was full of lovingly framed souvenirs 
she had collected from treasure hunters she had vanquished: a cowboy hat,
a gold-buckled belt, a pair of sunglasses, a coat rack filled with 
undergarments with the names of their previous owners labeled underneath, and 
-- right above her desk -- her most prized addition: a pair of flimsy, 
see-through black Armani panties with the name "Lindsay Whitehill" 
custom-embroidered in golden cursive along the hem. Underneath there were a 
series of photos showing the young, wealthy Texas heiress bent over Ling's 
knee with her well-spanked nude bottom cat-arched into the air.

Refreshing as it had been to give the spoiled millionaire brat a much overdue
trip to the woodshed, Ling had soon come to discover the consequences of
meddling with the rich and powerful. As soon as Miss Whitehill had been flown
back to the United States, and daddy had installed soft cushions in every
chair in their million dollar villa to make sitting possible for his
tender-bottomed daughter, she had hired an expert legal team and filed a
lawsuit against Ling.

This was the reason why two smooth-talking Harvard lawyers had flown directly
to Xi'an and were now sitting directly opposite Ling, flashing their insincere
smiles. Both women were in their late 20s -- well-tanned, well-groomed, wearing
stylish, body-hugging black pantsuits, and with their hair tightly pulled back 
into sleek business-casual ponytails.

"We have very strong evidence that you caused significant pain to several
parts of Miss Whitehill's body," the younger one, whose name was Lauren, said
while flipping through an ominous-looking file, "it would be hard for you to
deny that."

"I can't deny that I spanked the wits out of that thieving little bitch, no."

"Well, apart from the spanking, which of course caused our client the most
distress," the other litigator, Andrea, continued, "a physical examination 
revealed that she had been slapped and pinched on her breasts, that her hair
had been pulled, and that, um.... a boot at some point made repeated forcible 
contact with her vagina."

"Right, those things happened too," Ling said, smiling at the recollection,
"I think if you made a proper examination you'd find a lot more places where
that boot made forcible contact."

"Miss Ling, all of this is more than enough for a lawsuit."

"I told you: little Miss Whitehill was out to plunder an ancient temple!
If anything I let her off easy by just spanking her, according to Chinese law
she should be in prison."

"And we told you: You have no convincing evidence to support that story. Our
client clearly states that, uh, hold on a minute," Andrea filed through her
papers, "here we go: she simply has a keen interest in archaeology, and
therefore wanted a closer look at the murals in the mausoleum."

"What murals? What mausoleum? She went straight to the treasure chamber and
said to her friends: 'let's plunder this shithole!' I was right there, I
heard it with my own ears!"

"That won't hold up in court, Miss Ling," Lauren cut in, placing her hand
on Ling's with a condescending display of fake compassion. "We have three
witnesses that claim she said nothing of the sort."

"But those were her own goons!"

"That shouldn't be a problem, and either way, it's still a lot more than 
you've got in your corner. If we take this to court you'll lose everything," 
Andrea said. "But if you'd be willing to settle out of court, we could get 
it down to, oh I don't know -- one or two million dollars?"

"One or two million WHAT!?"

"Oh believe me, Ms. Ling," Lauren filled in, "that's if you're lucky."

Ling was fuming. As she led the two attorneys to the door, she quietly 
picked up her gold-embroidered paddle which she had left against the wall.

"We're just offering you a alternative to being crushed in court. You should
consider it," Andrea said, unaware that Ling was taking careful aim at the
hotshot lawyers' well-shaped bottoms, both of which were located at about 
equal height, and were nicely propped up and showcased by their custom-fit 
linen pants.

"I have considered it, and my answer is no. Now you two consider THIS,"
Ling snapped, whacking the paddle across the two lawyers' protruding butts
with a deafening SMACK, and sending them flying out into the corridor with
high-pitched squeals. Ling had time to see Andrea landing on her small
breasts and Lauren falling flat on her bum, and hear one of them squeal
in outrage: "That's sexual harassment!" before she slammed the door shut
and walked back to her desk.

Almost as soon as she had turned around, the phone on Ling's desk rang.

She answered it. "Hello?"

"Ling!" a shaky voice on the other end said, sounding as if the person had 
just run a long distance. "I have information about a team of temple raiders 
planning to hit the Heavenly Mountain Temple in the Nanling region! They're 
trekking through the jungle and will reach the temple tomorrow!"

"Slow down, Zhang," Ling said, reaching for a pen, "Who are these people?"

"Military, I think, but I'm not sure! Most of them were wearing some sort 
of uniforms or something, but-"

"All right, that's good enough. Stay strong, Zhang. I know the shortcuts
around the Heavenly Mountain Temple -- I'll take the flight and be there 
before they reach it."

"One more thing, Ling. I think their leader, um..."

"What?"

"...is some kind of powerful person. There's a lot of secrecy around how they
got into the country, and it seems like she has a lot of people pulling 
strings to cover it up. It's just a gut feeling I have from asking around."

Ling's heart took a leap, and she felt excitement spread through her body
like a jolt of lightning. "Well, the bigger they are, the harder they fall,
right? Whoever the bitch may be, I'm sure that her butt will be just as sore 
as the others when I'm done with her!" She hung up, and hurried off to prepare 
for her journey.

***

The ruins of the Heavenly Mountain Temple were located about two thousand feet 
up in the Nanling Mountains in Southwestern China, hidden deep inside the rain 
forest. Ling trekked her way through the dense jungle and reached the imposing, 
moss-covered ruins after only about four hours.

She was dressed as she always was when trekking through tropical regions --
in a pair of khaki shorts, a green top, black sunglasses and a black baseball
cap. Although not carrying any firearms, she had brought a small backpack 
full of useful items, among which were a roll of thick rope and a small blowgun.

After about thirty minutes of lounging around the temple exterior, Ling heard
voices and quickly crouched behind a half-destroyed pillar. A moment later,
five Caucasian women came walking up the hill with slow, exhausted steps,
huffing and panting.

"That darned hill sure did take a lot of effort to get up!" one of them said 
in what struck Ling as a somewhat goofy accent.

"Well, we ARE in the mountains," someone else cut in.

"Well, they should think twice then before buildin' these... these... these
golly-darn temples way up here in the mountains, then!"

Ling surveyed the company. The first two women were obviously some sort
of contract mercenaries. The tallest of those two was a buxom, freckle-faced
redhead with big lips and a vacant facial expression, wearing a white tanktop
with the word "ARMY" written in capital letters across it, and combat trousers
hanging slack around her curvy hips. The shorter one was probably of mixed
latin or Italian ethnicity, with silky black hair, plump curves and her chin
held high; she, too, was wearing semi-military clothing, as well as a pair
of amber-colored aviator sunglasses.

The third woman was noticeably younger -- maybe even in her teens. She was
a slender little blonde who moved with a clumsy coquettishness that made it
painfully clear that she was unused to being outdoors. She had dressed in an
orange top and a pair of tiny jeans cutoffs, looking as if she had expected
to go shopping in a California beach town rather than exploring the South Asian
jungle. Her purpose in this company seemed a mystery to Ling.

The fourth was by far the fiercest-looking woman in the quintet: a brown-haired
commando, perhaps in her early 30s, with a black eyepatch covering her left eye
and with a massive machine gun slung over her shoulder. She was wearing a grey,
skin-tight bodysuit, which emphasized her rough, athletic physique, and Ling 
could spot at least five different knives dangling from her belt.

Finally, the fifth member of the team was the oldest -- and the oddest. This
woman, whom Ling took to be in her 40s, was a buxom brunette wearing an 
olive-colored military pilot jumpsuit, and was walking with long, confident
strides. She had a round, compact face, wore glasses, and her hair had been 
styled in a strangely ornate updo, forming a massive bun behind her head.
Suddenly, it struck Ling that she had seen this woman's face many times before,
although she could not for the life of her remember where.

"Well, ya' betcha we picked the wrong temple to go diggin' around in, Jane!"
the familiar face said in her quirkily-accented, high-pitched voice, "I reckon
it'll take, ahh, two whole days for us to haul ourselves down this cliff back 
to the spot where we came from by the time when we're don' doin', ahh, what 
we set out to do here!"

Well, Ling thought, I'll be damned.

The accent and the confusing syntax sealed the deal. The leader of the team was,
of course, no one other than Sierra Palyn, the controversial Alaskan governor
that Ling, despite all her media coverage in China, had mostly managed to 
ignore. Ling vaguely recalled photos of the kooky governor posing with machine
guns in an American-flag-patterned bikini, or shooting at moose from the safety 
of a helicopter, as well as quite a few contemptuous, ill-informed statements 
made about China and other Asian countries. But what could she possibly be 
doing trespassing on the grounds of the Heavenly Mountain Temple?

"Well, we came here for treasure, didn't we?" said the sinister, eyepatch-
wearing commando, whose name apparently was Jane. "These ruins are supposed to
be loaded."

"I still don't get why ya didn't like my idea of goin' down there in that there
underground place and stealin' some of those little terracotta fellas," Sierra
Palyn said, walking over to the stump of a pillar that Ling was hiding behind
to rest her round backside against it, "ya' betcha we'd have been out in 
much less time than it took us to get over here!"

"I told you a hundred times, those 'terracotta fellas' ain't little," Jane
muttered.

"I had my intern check 'em up on Wikidikipedia, and she says the Internet says
there are over a thousand of 'em! We could have snatched one or two and no one
would have noticed," Palyn went on, turning to the blond teen, who was hopping
reluctantly from stone to stone to avoid the muddy terrain, "ain't that what
it said, intern?"

"My name's not intern, it's Crista, but, um, yeah-" the teen said, stopping to
pick a small twig out of her well-conditioned, golden tresses.

"See? Even Calista says it's true," Palyn chirped.

"I'm not even going to respond to that," Jane said, rolling her eyes. "Let's 
just get down there, ransack the place and get out. Temple raiding in China
ain't a picnic anymore since those raider-busters started up -- didn't you
see those pictures of Linds Whitehill in Time magazine?"

"What are we looking for anyway?" the black-haired mercenary asked in a
thick Brooklyn accent.

"A bunch of relics Sierra can wave around at the C-PAC conference to show off 
her foreign policy credentials," Jane said.

"Well, what's wrong with that idea?" Sierra Palyn asked, furiously scratching 
her ankle. "Can ya' imagine the faces of all those lamestream media types 
when I (darn these mosquitoes!), ahh, become the first presidential candidate 
to have personally, in person, gone behind the enemy lines of the enemy and
carried out a super-dangerous mission?"

"We're not enemies with China," Jane cut in.

"Ya' see, Joan, it's not about politics," Sierra Palyn continued, not listening,
"it's about bein' a maverick! It's not enough to be a politician and a hockey
mom -- ya' really gotta be a jack-of-all-trains as they say. I've already
prepared my pitch to 20th Century Fox for a "Sierra Palyn, Temple Raider" movie
franchise. Ya' betcha that'll make Barack Oh-bummer look like a nerd in 
comparison!"

Ling's heart was racing with fury. Over the course of her counter-raiding career, 
she had busted no fewer than twenty-seven groups of temple raiders, and as such, 
had become well acquainted with the unique arrogance of certain pretentious 
young Westerners. Still, the anger she felt now was far more intense than ever 
before. What extreme insolence for this ignorant cow to want to reduce ancient 
relics to props in her own success story, and even worse, to see it as some 
sort of victory over Ling's people and culture to steal them! Yet Ling was also 
feeling a slight twinge of fear. This was the first time she had to confront a 
person with actual political power -- what unexpected repercussions could it 
have to take down a governor and a former vice presidential candidate? Nocturnal 
visits from the Secret Service? Or the CIA?

"Alrighty then, let's get goin', gals," Palyn said suddenly, "Joanie, why doncha
take the lead?"

"It's JANE, dammit!" Jane snapped. "J-A-N-E."

"Don't get snappy with me now, Jean! Righty, now we need someone to guard the
entrance. Intern?"

"Um, I dunno, I don't really have any military experience, cuz that one time I
worked at a military base I really only had to make coffee and accept calls, 
and also it says in my contract that I only need to-"

"Oh, for crying out loud, just get Donna or Stacy to do it," Jane said 
impatiently, one hand massaging her forehead.

"Who's who again?" Palyn asked.

"I'm Donna... again," said the black-haired mercenary.

"And I'm Stacy," said the freckled redhead.

"Righty right, well, ah, Donna, why don't you come with us and let Stacy guard 
the entrance. And you, Stacy, just start a-hollerin' if any Chinesies come 
creeping about!"

As soon as the four temple raiders had gone down into the ruins, and the vacant-
looking redhead had assumed her position as guard, Ling slid quietly into action.

The white girl was standing with her legs far apart, chewing a stick of gum.
Taking up a position about ten feet behind her foe, Ling took out her blowgun, 
snapped a long thorn from a nearby wild rose and loaded it into her weapon.
Finally, she took careful aim -- and fired the needle-sharp projectile straight 
into the mercenary's round left buttock.

"Ow! What the f- ooww!" Stacy yelled, spinning around with a furious look on her
face. When she discovered no one there, she gingerly looked over her shoulder
down on her butt for some other clue. Still confused, she began feeling her own
butt cheeks, and finally stumbled upon the base of the thorn. Clenching her jaw,
she extracted the thorn and held it up for inspection.

"Hey Barbie!" a voice called nearby. Stacy spun around again, only to come face
to face with- not a face at all, but rather a pair of feet sticking straight up!
The feet promptly wrapped themselves around the stunned Westerner's neck and 
then -- with unexpected force -- lifted her off her feet and flung her in an 
arch over the handstanding Asian, so that -- CRASH! -- she fell on her tailbone 
with paralyzing force on the stone-paved ground.

"Ooh!!" Stacy groaned, and instinctively rolled over on her stomach -- which was
a bad move, since Ling immediately jumped on top of her prone enemy's back and
pushed her back down into the ground. Holding the redhead down with her bottom,
Ling spun around to face the white woman's kicking legs. With a swift tug, she
pulled the mercenary's camo pants -- they were barely staying up anyway -- to
her ankles, exposing a freckled white rear end barely covered by a pair of
camouflage-patterned panties. In one fluid movement, she pulled out the belt
from the redhead's pants and effortlessly tied up her arms, then fashioned a
makeshift knot around her ankles using the pants themselves.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you little yellow bitch!? I'm an
American, dammit, I have rights! Do you even know who I'm working for?? Haven't 
you heard of the- OOMPH!!" Here, Ling promptly shut the yapping Westerner up by 
shoving a handful of moss into her mouth.

"Oh, I've heard of her," Ling replied, as she pulled out her knife -- at which
point Stacy's eyes widened so far that Ling thought they were going to bulge out
like rockets, in the style of old Western cartoons -- and proceeded to snip off
the side of the white woman's panties. After a quick whisk and some tying, she
stepped back to admire her work: the cocky white mercenary was now lying help-
lessly on her side, squirming like a fish, carefully tied up with her own 
clothing, and gagged with her own underwear.

Ling couldn't help but note that her tiny pubic triangle was completely red, and
realized that she finally, for the first time in her life, understood what "fire-
crotch" meant. She squatted in front of the carrot-colored bush and inspected
it with mischievous interest, pulling out a single hair -- "Mmpphhh!!" -- and 
holding it up in the light.

"So weird!" she said, delighting in the mercenary's helpless annoyance at being
treated like a research specimen. But it couldn't be helped; this one was for
the archives. Ling pulled out her camera and snapped a few shots of the curious
red forest before she decided she had enough of firecrotch memorabilia.

Finally, she picked up her white captive and slung her over her shoulder;
although the woman was probably a full head taller than her and twice her weight,
she didn't encumber Ling more than a normal backpack. She carried the mercenary
to a nearby shrubbery and dropped her face first into it. Her white limbs quickly
drowned in the sea of green vegetation, until only her chalk-white derriere stuck
out. Sighing, Ling picked up a nearby branch and whacked the disembodied white
rump with it -- SMACK! -- white buns jiggling from the blow -- WHACK! -- butt
sinking lower -- CRACK!" -- until it finally disappeared out of sight below the 
plants.

"And stay down!" Ling yelled into the shrubbery, before running back to the 
temple ruins to deal with the other intruders.

By the time she reached the other four, they had reached the lowest part of the
temple ruins, and where already busy ransacking the temple treasury. Ling stood
in the shadows, her attention trained on the ignorant Westerners and their 
contemptible scheme to turn her ancient country's heritage into cheap collectibles.
This was it: the confrontation her whole counter-raiding career had been building 
toward. She took a deep breath, and then bellowed, in the deepest voice she could
muster:

"WHO IS IT THAT DARES TO INTRUDE UPON THE SANCTITY OF THE HEAVENLY MOUNTAIN 
TEMPLE?"

The temple raiders dropped what they were carrying and leapt into a defensive
phalanx. Crista looked indescribably terrified, Donna and Sierra Palyn looked
puzzled, but Jane seemed to see through the charade.

"I knew it!" she hissed. "It's that damn raider-buster! Hey, rice cake, why
don't you get your slant-eyed ass out in the light so we can talk face to 
face!?"

"It won't matter," Ling's voice echoed back, "You four don't stand a chance.
We Chinese have been kicking your lily white asses out of our country since 
1949, and I'm here to continue that time-honored tradition!"

"Lily-white asses!? I'll get you fo-!!" Donna yelled, but Jane restrained her.

"Don't kid yourself, Ching Chong!" Jane shouted back with a cocky smile. "I've
seen pictures of your skinny ass. You have us all in your crosshairs so take
a long, good look at what you're up against: we're twice your size and we all
have black belts in the American art of kicking butt! I've got a fortune cookie
for you right here, dumpling: 'Four white woman in your future, Confucius says
run away'!"

"That's right, honey," Sierra Palyn chirped up. "Ya don't know what you're 
messin' with, I gotta tell ya, we gotta lotta experience, why dontcha ask your 
cousins the Vietnamese and the Japanese how they liked those nukes we dropped 
on 'em, boy, got 'em real bad back in those days, also we don't like Communists 
back where I come from, and, uh-"

"You know nothing about my country, you ignorant thieves!" Ling yelled. "You 
come to this ancient country, which you know nothing about, and all you can think 
of is what you can steal for your own profit!"

"News flash, noodles, that's because your country is a third world shithole! You 
have no say in the matter!" Jane replied, obviously feeling like she had the upper 
hand. "China is a country of clueless children. You can't govern yourselves, you 
can't take care of your cultural heritage, you can't even transition into the 
modern age! What you don't realize is that you've already lost all these relics 
-- you lost the right to them when you fell behind and became a developing 
country. You see, honey, you're like Africa now, or South America in the middle 
ages. You're a free-for-all! So you see, we're not here to steal, we're just 
here to claim our spoils as the winner."

Those words hit Ling like a punch to the gut, and when she felt her cheeks turn
hot, it was not only with rage, but also with shame. She couldn't think of any-
thing to say.

"Siamese cat got your tongue?" Jane asked with a smirk.

A split second later, a small object flashed into view. It landed on the floor
with a bang, and soon the entire chamber was filled with thick smoke.

"SHIT! Smoke bomb, stay together, girls!" Jane called out.

Donna, the black-haired mercenary, began firing spontaneously into the fog, but 
she had only managed to fire a few rounds before a shadow appeared beside her, 
and two small feet scissor-kicked the heavy weapon out of her hands.

"Huh?" said Donna, only moments before Ling landed a clean punch in her face,
causing her eyes to rotate two full circles in their sockets. When she refocused
her attention, she discovered to her shock that Ling had sliced open her
combat shirt along the front, and then -- SWISH -- in a flash she had lost both
her top and her bra!

Ling took a second to scrutinize the curvy white woman and her volleyball
breasts. Then, after taking careful aim, she executed a perfect roundhouse kick,
flattening both of the pointy mammaries in one graceful swoop, and sending the
mercenary flying through the air.

"OOOWW!!" Donna cried out as she landed hard on her plushy rear, and the pain
from her breasts and backside seemed to reach her nerve center at the same time.
Ling promptly walked up to the whining Caucasian, grabbed her arm from behind, 
and threw her over her head, this time causing the black-haired temple raider to 
land with a satisfying SPLAT! on her cream-colored tits.

"AAAUUUWWWW!!!" the white woman screamed, unconsciously arching her back body up 
into the air, which provided Ling with a splendid opportunity to pull down her
pants as well, exposing a cyan-colored thong that seemed to disappear into the
crack of her typically plump bottom.

"Like dental floss," Ling remarked with distaste. Suddenly, she spotted a crack
near the top of a nearby pillar, which had resulted in a hook-like shard sticking
out from the structure, nearly nine feet above ground, and a malevolent idea
formed in her head.

When the smoke finally scattered, the remaining three temple raiders were met
with an ear-piercing squeal. Then, they discovered Donna -- more or less naked --
hanging from the aforementioned structure by her baby blue thong, causing it to
ride up into the cleft of her hairless vagina and saw mercilessly into the 
crack of her jiggling white tush.

"OOOHHH!! OWOWOWOOOWW!! It's getting WAY UP THEREEOOOWWW!! GET ME DOWN GET ME
DOWN, AAOOHH, IT'S GONNA CUT MY ASS IN TWOOOWWW-OW-OW!!" she yelled, squirming
desperately, but only managing to slide into even more painful positions with
every turn.

"Holy shit, how did she get up there!?" Crista gasped.

"Where did she go!?" Sierra Palyn yelled, and Ling -- who was hiding behind a
nearby pillar -- could tell that the cocky governor was starting to look rather
nervous. Presumably she was envisioning herself stripped and hanging from a
pillar by her underwear too, and feeling a sudden concern for the safety of
her own privileged backside. Oh just you wait, Ling wanted to tell her, you're
in for something FAR worse.

"Let's walk around until we find her," Jane suggested, "but let's move in a
group. She'll strike whenever one of us is alone."

The governor and her intern obeyed, and soon the three of them were walking
through the corridor toward the temple entrance. Ling followed, but remained
out of sight. When they had reached the entrance, Jane said in a hushed voice:
"She's not anywhere in the temple. That means she's probably lying in ambush
just outside. You two stay in here while I try to clear the entrance."

Excellent, Ling thought, just ignore your own advice, you dumb macho American.
After Jane had moved on up ahead, Ling waited a full minute before making a
move. She then picked up a rock and threw it against a nearby wall, causing
the Alaskan governor and her intern to look up in alarm.

"Oh shit, that's her!" Crista cried out. "Shoot her!"

Sierra Palyn took out her automatic pistol and began shooting randomly into
the dungeon, all the while backing toward the entrance. Suddenly, she turned
around and started running toward the entrance.

"What? W-wait for me!!" Crista whimpered and started following her boss,
but the buxom politician was already some ten feet ahead of her. Just then, 
something grabbed hold of Crista's ponytail and pulled her back into the dark-
ness.

"Oof!" She landed on her back, but was soon pulled up to her feet again,
only to come face to face with Ling, whose small eyes had grown dark with fury.

"Look, I'm sorryy I'm sorry I'm so sorry," the white teen stammered, hyper-
ventilating, "I promise I didn't want to do this, you know I'm not even getting
paid for this, I swear-"

Ling's fearsome look quickly turned into a look of amused disbelief.

"Oh REALLY?" she asked, grabbing the white girl's chin and turning her gaze
back into her own.

"I'm not, I-I really am not! I'm only doing this so that I can put it on my
resume... um, of course it won't say "temple raiding", probably something like 
"hands-on experience with foreign affairs", but... uh... I don't have anything
against y-you people, or, uh..."

"But you had no problem coming along on the ride, did you?" Ling asked,
switching back to her furious look.

"Um, n-no!! I m-mean, yes, or, uh, it's not like- it's not-"

"Take off your clothes," Ling said.

"S-s-sure, or I mean... uh, OK?" Crista was trembling as she fumbled with her
shorts, and Ling looked on with some amusement. She was a short and skinny
blonde, and the two of them were actually nearly identical in height, although
Crista had larger breasts and more pronounced curves. After removing her top
as well, the nubile Caucasian girl stood in her underwear for a while -- a
white bra and a pair of girly white panties with pink stripes -- shifting
awkwardly. 

"Bra and panties as well," Ling commanded.

Crista swallowed, and her cheeks had began to redden with embarassment. She
undid her bra and slid down her panties, and finally stood there as naked as
the day she was born. Ling promptly grabbed the blonde by her wrist and folded
her over her knee, so that her pert little butt was sticking up in the air.

"Here's something for your resume," Ling said, and gave the Caucasian girl's
tight butt a hard swat with her palm. Crista yelped and made a minimal squirm.
Pathetic, Ling thought. She had never come across an opponent -- even a
Westerner -- so powerless and submissive. Still, a temple raider is a temple
raider, she thought, and they all ought to have the same punishment.

"This- *SPANK* -is what you get- *SPANK* -for raiding- *SPANK* -the temples-
*SPANK* -of my- *SPANK* -ancestors!" Ling growled, emphasizing liberally
with hard smacks to the little white bimbo's trembling buns. Crista yelped
and whined, and after about ten swats she was sobbing like a baby. After
a minute or so, both butt cheeks had gone from white to pink to scarlet,
and the little blonde was now bawling her eyes out.

Ling looked toward the entrance and thought for a while. It was suspiciously
quiet, which gave her an idea. She dropped the sobbing Crista on the floor,
then stripped down to her underwear, gathered up Crista's clothes and put
them on. Crista was then commanded to dress in Ling's clothing, which she
did without further fuss. To complete the disguise, Ling decked out Crista 
with her sunglasses, gathered up her silky blond hair in a tight bun and hid 
it under her baseball cap. The disguise wasn't perfect, but she didn't need 
it to be.

"OK, kid, off you go!" Ling hissed, and -- for emphasis -- added a swift kick 
to the white girl's sore bottom. Crista yelped and took to running, running 
faster and faster toward freedom, when suddenly -- WHACK! -- someone bumrushed 
her just as she went through the entrance, tackling her to the ground.

"I got her!" Jane shouted, and a scuffle erupted outside the entrance. As
Ling walked calmly toward the doorway, she pieced together what was happening
based on what was said.

"Woo-hoo! Take her down, Joanie!" "You oriental slut, I'll tear your tits off!"
"Noo! OW! It's ME!" "How does that wedgie feel, bitch? Shorts hurt your ass
don't they?" "OOOHHH!! STOP IT!! AII!!" "Get 'er!" "I'll spank you so hard
you won't be able to sit for a year!" SMACK! "EEEHH!! IT'S ME!! IT'S ME!!"

"Uhhh, ya know Joanie, I don't think that's her at all," the governor said,
squinting in the sunlight.

"What? But wh..." Jane began, but stopped when she saw that Ling was in fact
standing in the center of the temple entrance, watching the fight with amusement.
Ashamed, Jane stood up and let her quarry go.

"You're all PSYCHOS!! I HATE YOU ALL! I QUIT!" Crista wailed as she darted off
into the distance, but was so preoccupied with pulling up her shorts from her 
knees that she immediately collided with a large tree, and was knocked out cold.

"OK, enough of this bullshit. You run ahead, Ma'am Governor. I'll swat this
fly once and for all," Jane said, and Ling detected a hint of a strangely sinister
smile.

"Run ahead to WHERE exactly?" Sierra Palyn shouted, looking around in alarm. "That
there helicopter won't be here for another TWO HOURS!" However, no answer came,
so the flustered politician made an exasperated noise and started running anyway.

Jane, licking her lips, started walking in a circle around Ling. Ling, however,
stood her ground, burrowing her furious gaze into the mercenary's pale blue eyes.
They were each other's exact physical opposites: Jane was tall and powerfully
built, with strong hips and large, round breasts. Ling, on the other hand, was
short and lean, with a flat figure.

"You know, back in the States -- and in Europe -- they have a bet going on," the
temple raider began. "Whoever takes you down wins a lot of money. And I mean a 
LOT of money."

Ling cocked her head. "I already know this is a futile thing to ask, but why 
don't you shut up about money for once in your life so that I can kick the crap 
out of your pasty white butt and then go after your boss."

"It's on, you gook bitch," Jane hissed, and before the last word had left her
lips she had drawn one of her knives and thrown it. Ling, thinking on her feet,
executed a clean roundhouse kick and struck the whirling blade on its handle, 
causing it to spiral off into the surrounding jungle.

Ling made the next move. She cartwheeled over to her enemy, and threw two high
punches, both of which Jane evaded with ease. Distracted, Ling let down her
guard for a second, and the next moment Jane had landed a paralyzing punch
to her midsection.

"Ooh!" Ling cried out and leaned forward. Immediately, Jane followed up with
a knee to Ling's face, striking her chin and sending her flying to a hard
bottom-first landing. Indescribable pain spread through Ling's head, and for
a moment she was actually seeing stars.

"That's right, I'm about to stir fry your yellow ass!" Jane said as she
walked over, beaming with triumph. She picked up Ling by her limp arm and
kneed her in the stomach once - WHAM! - twice - WHAM! - and on the third
time - WHAM! - she let the blow catapult its target through the air to
another paralyzing landing, this time on her back.

"That's the problem with you Eastern broads -- you have no body mass! No
muscle and no curves, with tits like the warts on my grandpa's nose. And
let's not get started on your asses," Jane ranted as she picked up the
Chinese girl and punched her straight in the face -- lights nearly going
out -- and then once more in the midsection. Once again, Ling collapsed
like a punctured balloon.

Ling coughed and wheezed -- the blows to her midsection left her feeling like
the Caucasian had turned her entire body into one big bruise. Her head was
reeling and she felt sick to her stomach. Was this it? Had she finally met her
match? She turned her head to look at her approaching tormentor: from below,
the athletic brunette looked statuesque, like a Greek model, the pinnacle of
physical condition. The tight bodysuit further accentuated her powerful thighs 
and strong upper body. The triumphant Western amazon drew another knife from 
her belt and smiled a cold, sadistic smile.

"And so West triumphs over East once again," she said, caressing the edge of
the knife. "Any last wishes? No? Too bad. But look at the bright side, honey, 
the last thing you'll ever see in this world will be the perfect Western ass 
you wish you had -- walking away from your dead body!"

Jane raised the knife and plunged it down toward Ling's chest. It took Ling
only a fraction of a second to decide that this was not the way she was going 
to die, then another fraction to kick up from the ground and turn the same
movement into a roll that carried her below the Caucasian woman's crotch
and out on the other side of her, and finally a third fraction to grab hold
of the unsuspecting temple raider's ankles and pull with all her might.
Before she knew what had hit her, the curvy brunette went down like a felled 
tree, landing chest-first with a loud THUMP!

Jane got up on all fours and began to crawl away, but Ling had already set
her eyes on a very specific target that she was not going to let escape.

"Here's my opinion of your 'perfect Western ass'," she snarled, then took aim
and fired off a flawless soccer kick that hit straight into the center of its
intended target. Riding a perfect tunnel wave of endorphines, Ling felt the 
tip of her shoe cleave the Caucasian's ample rump and pass straight in as far 
as it could go. Time seemed to slow down so that Ling could soak in every 
sensory detail of the scene -- the scrunching of the elastic grey fabric of 
the white girl's jumpsuit, the arching of her spine, the two halves of her ass 
rippling in unison, the shoe penetrating deeper until it struck bone. Ling had 
only recently heard of the Western idiom "to kick someone's ass", but she 
instinctively knew that she had probably come closer to achieving the picture 
ideal of that expression than anyone before her.

Jane went flying like a rugby ball and landed on her face some three feet
away. She struggled to her feet, but her movements were weird and jerky, and
her face contorted with pain. Her hands were glued to her ass, and when she
turned around Ling saw that she was unable to remove the huge chunk of
jumpsuit that had disappeared into her crack.

"I will KILL you for that!" the brunette roared, as she drew another of her
knives and attacked Ling head on, seething with fury. Ling, however, was
in the zone. She effortlessly dodged every one of the oncoming blows, and
finally snatched the knife out of her enemy's hand, spun around, and
delivered a long cut seemingly in the air behind the mercenary's back. A
moment later, a thin gash appeared in her jumpsuit that ran from her neck,
down her back, between her buttocks and ended at her perineum. When Jane
turned around to face her, Ling simply grabbed her collar at the front and
gave it a rip. A second later, the ferocious brunette was stark naked from
breasts to bush.

"Maybe if you lost some of that 'body mass', you'd move fast enough to keep
up with me," Ling said, eyeing the brunette's figure with a skeptically
raised eyebrow. "Those big jelly boobs must be slowing you down."

"That's it, bitch, prepare to be gutted like a pig!" Jane hissed, her cheeks
burning with shame and humiliation, as she picked up her knife and charged
blindly on. Once again, Ling dodged every blow -- left, right, left, right, 
up and down -- then snatched the knife out of her enemy's hands and threw it 
over her shoulder. Jane tried a left hand punch, which Ling caught mid-air, and
a right hand punch, which Ling caught with equal ease. The Chinese girl then
gathered both of the mercenary's wrists up in one hand, which she raised over
her head, effectively rendering trapping both of the brunette's arms while
leaving the rest of her naked body defenseless. Jane's blue eyes widened in 
alarm as she squirmed against Ling's iron grip, but could do nothing to weaken
it.

"Let's see if we can't take some weight off these big old puddings," Ling
said, and began firing punches into the Goliath-sized Westerner's gelatinous 
mammaries, bouncing them back and forth, flattening them against her breast-
bone, and whipping them teasingly up and down, all the while taking a very
private interest in how much useless fat had accumulated in those childishly 
overproportioned milk bags.

The temple raider moaned and squealed at every punch that sunk into her
quickly reddening breasts. "If I had the time, I'd squash these tits once for
every Chinese person you've insulted with your imperialist nonsense. Maybe
then some of that excess matter would balloon up into that empty head of
yours," Ling said as she picked up the pace with the punching. "But there's 
another sacrilegious white ass out there that still doesn't have my bootprint 
on it, and it's getting away as we speak."

With those words, she reached down between the brunette's legs, took a firm
one-hand grip of her bottom, and hoisted the Caucasian up in the air -- still
retaining her lock on her wrists. She skillfully spun the larger woman a full
revolution over her head, as if she were a marching stick, then suddenly let
go of Jane's rear end and let her plunge down, to where Ling's sharply arched
knee was offering up a premature landing spot.

THWACK! With merciless precision, the naked brunette's crotch made impact with
the smaller woman's knee, jolting her entire body upright. After a few seconds
of complete silence, the stunned Caucasian valkyrie slid limply down from Ling's
knee and fell in a crumpled heap on the ground, both hands plastered to her
violated snatch.

Ling grabbed the paralyzed woman by her feet, and dragged her away until they 
had reached the edge of the jungle. Then, she began working up a centrifugal
spin, spinning the larger woman around her body by her feet until finally
she let go of her feet, throwing the humiliated temple raider like a sledge-
hammer into the jungle.

SMACK! The naked amazon collided hard with a nearby tree, and remained
entangled with it, her arms suspended by two branches, and her lower body 
hanging limply down the trunk, crotch facing the tree. Ling took out her rope 
and used the entire roll to tie the disgraced mercenary tightly to the tree.

Within only a few seconds, Ling noticed a thick black stream moving rapidly
up the trunk of the tree. A naughty shiver spread through Ling's body when
she realized that the tree was adjacent to a huge termite nest, and that
angry sentinels had been dispatched to deal with the intruding massive blob
of flesh. The insects quickly began milling up the temple raider's limp
white legs, and had soon reached the lower curves of her well-fattened 
bottom.

"YOW!" The brunette was jolted awake by the sensation of a dozen tiny fangs
sinking into her feet, legs and thighs. "What's going on?? What th- YOW-OW-OW!"

"Just a little visit from the local fauna," Ling chuckled. "You seem to have
intruded on their home."

"Their wha- OWW! OOH! Get me down- YEOOWW!!" the curvy intruder howled as the
termites spread further up her body, now creating a static-like pattern
across her back, stomach and propped-up breasts. "OOOHH!! No! Not there!!
AIAAIIIEE!!" Ling craned her head to get a better view, and saw that a stream
of termites had disappeared into the crack of the temple raider's bottom.
An even closer look revealed that a few insects were now burrowing into the
pale pink opening of the white girl's asshole, the shivering little cavity 
shrinking and widening with each termite passing through.

"EEK! It hurts! OOH! Get them off me!" the mercenary wailed to no avail.

"Be careful what you wish for," Ling shouted, as she began running down the
rocky path that the governor had taken a few minutes earlier. On the road,
she passed a small flock of pangolins heading in the opposite direction, 
already licking their long tongues in anticipation of their favorite meal:
termites.

* * *

It took less than five minutes for Ling to catch up with the governor, whom
she found trying to climb down a steep rocky ledge. Ling, who was well
acquainted with the terrain, took a shortcut, and the moment the politician
had finished her long climb and sat down to rest, she was shocked
to discover Ling waiting for her, casually leaning against a tree.

"Oh darn!" she said, springing to her feet. "Not you!"

"I've dispatched all your goons," Ling said, "and now it's your turn."

Sierra Palyn, who had prepared to run away, suddenly stopped in her tracks. 
Her ego seemed to have gotten the better of her, and she spoke again, she
had regained that characteristic tone of mocking arrogance: "Well, honey,
I don't know what kind of television coverage ya got here in China, but I'm
kind of a big deal back in the States."

"I've heard of you," Ling snapped.

"Well, did ya hear about the time I trekked across Alaska, eating only fish
that I caught with my own hands? Once I fought a mama grizzly without a
weapon and won! I was born north of the polar circle, ya li'l dingbat, so
I can sure as heck beat you too!"

"And still you seemed really scared of me only a moment ago," Ling replied.

"Don't get snappy with me, li'l missy, or I'll bend ya over my knee and
spank the sass out of your butt! I don't care how much Asian hoodoo ya got 
up your sleeve, 'cause I've got a can of American whoop-ass right here and 
I'm not scared to use it!"

"You've seen too many cowboy movies," Ling said, cracking her knuckles in
preparation of the upcoming battle.

"Oh honey, you haven't seen ENOUGH cowboy movies," Sierra Palyn said with
a corny wink, before whipping out her automatic pistol and firing point
blank at Ling.

The bullet missed Ling's head with a single inch's margin. The Chinese
girl turned around and dove into the surrounding bushes as the governor
pursued her with a volley of bullets.

"Ya think those trees'll protect ya from my gun?" the governor shouted 
after her, as she threw the emptied pistol aside, and began rummaging 
through her backpack. "Well, guess what, they had a sale at Walmarts!"
With those words, she pulled out a short, thick green tube which Ling
-- somewhat belatedly -- identified as a rocket launcher. Panicking,
she got to her feet and, hearing the mechanical clunk of the firing
mechanism, dove further into the jungle just as a massive explosion
obliterated the entire patch of jungle she had just been hiding in.

FWOOSSHH!! Ling felt a geyser of flames lick her thighs and bottom,
and she danced off into the forest swatting her burning rear end to
get them off. She heard the trigger-happy governor laughing and whooping
in the background: "Woo-hoo! Got ourselves a 4th of July barbecue right
here! One Chinese rump steak comin' up, well done and fresh off the 
grill!"

Finally, after much swatting and rolling on the ground, Ling managed
to extinguish the flames. Craning her head over her shoulder to inspect
the damage, she discovered with a pang of embarassment that the fire had
burnt two large holes on the centers of her butt cheeks, and that even
two spots on her favorite panties had been incinerated. Furious,
she began walking back to the governor, who had already torched two
different patches of jungle and was still whooping.

"Ya know, I didn't think ya were such a coward, but ya really give a
new meaning to the word "yellow". Ha!"

Suddenly, Sierra Palyn spotted Ling in the shadow of a large tree. She
was carrying a long stick of wood.

"Ya know, on a normal day I'd say this was too easy, but this time I'm
just gonna sit back and enjoy it," the busty politican said with a
cackle, before hoisting the rocket launcher back up on her shoulder.
Instead of charging at her, however, Ling simply raised the stick over 
her shoulder, took careful aim, and threw it straight into the mouth of
the powerful weapon just as Palyn pulled the trigger. The resultant
jam in the machinery caused the weapon to detonate in her hands.

When the flames had dissipated and the metallic remnants of the rocket
launcher scattered across the clearing, Sierra Palyn was left sitting
on her bottom, legs akimbo, with a look on her face that could politely
be described as "flabbergasted". The explosion had covered her face
in a thick layer of soot, burned off the parts of her jumpsuit that
covered her shoulders, arms and most of her cleavage -- leaving her
large, firm breasts exposed down to the tops of her pink areolas --
and caused her hair to stand in all directions.

"And there you have your 4th of July fireworks," Ling said. This proved 
to be the last straw for the governor, who charged blindly on with a 
blood-curdling Alaskan battle cry. Ling blocked two clumsy punches, and 
retaliated with a perfect uppercut to the brunette's chin, which sent the 
governor up on her toes, and then a hard punch to her soft stomach.

"Oof!" As Palyn bent over in pain, the remains of her jumpsuit fell even 
lower, now revealing her big, pink nipples. Ling followed up by ramming her 
elbow between the Caucasian's shoulder blades, a blow that sent Palyn 
plummeting to the ground. The Chinese girl then sat down on the governor's 
back and began bouncing up and down, delighting in the unexpected hydraulic 
capacity of the busty white woman's squishy mammaries.

"Hey, I think I've finally found a use for you Westerners and your giant 
tits!" Ling giggled as she bounced harder and harder, and Sierra Palyn's 
moans heightened in pitch. "You know, what a fabulous business idea. A life-
time of bouncing, and with an exotic foreign language soundtrack at that. 
No manufacturing prices, and better yet, the supply is enormous!"

After a couple of minutes, when Ling had tired of her little pastime, she 
decided to let her mattress up for a bit. Sierra Palyn instantly got up and 
began running, most of her pride having been soaked up by the pain pulsing 
through her tenderized boobs.

Ling unhurriedly produced a new roll of rope, tied a loose knot in it and 
began swinging it through the air.

"You know, you were wrong earlier. I *have* seen a couple of cowboy movies," 
she said as she watched the governor get further and further away. "Here's a 
little trick I picked up from one of them."

With those words, she swung her lasso. After the noose had fallen into place, 
Ling pulled, and the rope constricted itself around the governor's waist, 
trapping her arms tightly along her sides, and sending her ricocheting back on 
her butt.

"OOF! W-what d'ya think you're doin, young lady? Ooh! OW! EEOW!" Palyn yelped as 
Ling began reeling her back in, dragging her butt against the ground every inch 
of the way.

When Ling had pulled her wailing quarry back into the clearing, she threw the 
other end of the rope over a high branch and began hoisting the humiliated 
governor up in the air. When the brunette was dangling at an agreeable height 
of four feet above ground, Ling secured the rope and cut off an extra length 
which she used to rope the kicking politician's ankles together.

"Now, let's see what you managed to sneak off with," Ling said as she picked up 
the governor's discarded backpack and emptied it onto the ground. The loot turned 
out to be a couple of small figurines, three vases, and -- most strikingly -- a 
gong made out of pure gold with jade inlay, and a matching mallet. The gong was 
about the size of a large dinner plate, and brandished -- in raised lettering, 
which turned every line into a sharp metallic edge -- the Chinese character for 
"justice". When Ling placed the gong face down on the ground and picked it up
again, it left a deep, clearly legible imprint on the soil. You'll come in handy
in a few minutes, Ling thought with a sting of malicious giddiness.

"Get me down at once, ya li'l brat!" Palyn roared as she twisted her arms and
legs to no avail. "When that helicopter gets here, you're gonna be..."

"...far away, yes," Ling filled in. She began easing down the mouthy politican's
jumpsuit bit by bit, until all of it had come off. She discovered (to her delight)
that the light pink heart-shaped keister underneath was encased in a pair of
frilly white panties with the American flag emblazoned on its center.

"Patriotic down to her panties," Ling mumbled to herself, and couldn't help taking
out her camera for a few souvenir shots of the exotic underwear. She then peeled
down the panties as well, exposing the woman's sizeable ass in its entirety.

While the governor continued to bombard her with threats and the occasional 
folksy obscenity, Ling cut the rope which Sierra dangled from, tied up her arms,
and carried her over to a large fallen tree. After she had gently placed the
squirming American woman across the trunk, she adjusted her frame so that Sierra's
upper body bent down on one side and her disembodied butt was propped up, neatly
displayed as if part of an exclusive exhibition of Caucasian female glutes. Ling
could almost imagine a plaque next to it.

"Now there's a term for this kinda thing, and it's-a whatsit called again, oh 
yeah, sexual harassment!" the governor shouted, getting no response. Ling, mean-
while, had picked up the mallet and the stolen gong, and tied them together to
create a massive paddle. Licking her lip, she placed the patterned side of this
ultimate spanking implement against the governor's wiggling bottom, so that the
raised metal edge of the lettering pressed gently into her flesh. She then raised
the paddle, and brought it down again with full force.

"JUSTICE!" she yelled out.

SHHHWWWAAAACCCCKKKK!!! The "paddle" struck the upturned backside with such
trembling power that Ling half-expected the governor's ass to have been permanently
frozen in the impacted shape the next time she saw it. Although that didn't happen,
when she lifted the implement back up, the trembling rump had been neatly branded -- 
in legible light red lines -- with the elegant curves of Ling's native language.

"AAAAOOOOOWWWW!!!" Sierra Palyn howled at the top of her lungs, and Ling noticed
a flock of birds rising from a nearby tree in alarm. She took aim again, and 
brought down the gong on the Westerner's bottom with even greater force. Once
again she did it, and again, and again, and after each thorough flattening of
her enemy's jiggling buns, the lettering was driven deeper and deeper into her
skin.

Soon, Sierra Palyn's butt was redder than the Arizona desert at sundown, and her
howling had dissolved into loud sobs. Ling grabbed the brunette's chin and
forced their gazes into each other.

"From now on, I want you to say everything I tell you to. If you don't say it,
I'll go on spanking your big ass until flames start shooting out of your butthole. 
ANY QUESTIONS!?" Ling roared.

"N-no!" the governor whimpered.

"Say you're sorry! In Chinese!"

"I-I don't know how t' say that!" SSCCHHWWAACCKKK!!! "YYEEOOOWWW!!"

"It's 'du? b? q?'!"

"Dway w-what?" SSCCHHWWAACCKKK!!! "OOOHHHH!! DWAY BOO CHII!!"

"Say that dumb Western broads like yourself ought to learn to respect ancient
cultures!"

"D-dumb Western broads... like mahself... oughta l-learn t' respect... ancient
countries...!" SSCCHHWWAACCKKK!!! "YYEEEOOOWW!! CULTURES, I MEAN CULTURES!!"

"Thank me for spanking some sense into your conceited, over-privileged ass!"

"Thank you for s-spankin'... some sense i-into mah... m-mah-" SSCCHHWWAACCKKK!!!

"CONCEITED!"

"W-what does that mean?" SSCCHHWWAACCKKK!!! "AAAOOHH! Mah c-conceited, over-pr...
over-privileged b-b-butt... SSCCHHWWAACCKKK!!! "OOHHH *sob* Oooohhh..."

"SAY ASS!"

"Mah ass!" SSCCHHWWAACCKKK!!! "OOOHHH!! Thank ya for spankin' mah ass!!"

"You will never raid another temple again in your life!"

"I w-will n-never raid another temple in mah life!"

"And if you do, Ling Honghua will spank the shit out of your big white ass until 
fire starts shooting out of your asshole!"

"And if I d-do... Ling Hunghwaah will... s-spank the sh-shit outta mah... mah 
b-butt..." SSCCHHWWAACCKKK!!! "OOOHHHH!! MAH ASS, MAH ASS!!" SSCCHHWWAACCKKK!!! 
"M-MY BIG WHITE *sob* A-ASS... until i-it... f-f-falls off?" SSCCHHWWAACCKKK!!!

"Until fire starts shooting out of your ASSHOLE!"

"U-until fire starts sh-shootin' outta... mah a-a-asshole!"

Ling stepped back to admire her handiwork. Sierra Palyn's ass was so red, and
so positively luminous, that none of the known shades of the color seemed to do 
it justice. The ancient lettering that now adorned it had been imprinted so
deeply that Ling doubted that it would go away for a very long time. Feeling
contented, Ling pulled out her camera so that she could immortalize what she
felt certain to be the most well-deserved spanking she had ever doled out.

***

When the helicopter arrived on its scheduled time, the pilots were shocked at
what they discovered. In front of the ancient temple entrance, five tied-up
white women were dangling by ropes that had been tied around their waists, one 
of whom was hanging a bit higher than the others. Each of their naked bottoms 
carried some sort of writing on them. When viewed from a far, they formed
a sentence that stated, in bright red Chinese characters: 

"JUSTICE FOR TEMPLE RAIDERS".

***

Back in Xi'an, Ling enjoyed the subsequent international developments from the
comfort of her counter-raiding office. Bold headlines on television declared:
"Alaskan governor Sierra Palyn embroiled in international crime scandal",
"China sends bold message to Western temple raiders, written on butts",
"Governor Palyn denies involvement in scandal, refuses to show her bottom to
back up claim", "Petition urging Alaskan governor to show her bottom to prove
innocence gains ten million signatures; could be decisive for next election",
"Breaking news! Governor Palyn's skirt pulled up by investigative reporter,
verdict is GUILTY!", "Palyn: I've never been to China, I often write things on
my bottom", "Independent studio buys filmmaking rights to Palyn spanking story
for $10 million", "Gov. Palyn's branded butt makes cover of Time magazine".

Ling leaned back in her high chair, feeling on top of the world. And to make
things even better, as a response to these developments, the Chinese government 
had launched a thorough investigation into illegal temple raiding activities,
and come up with plenty of goodies -- most interestingly, a whole slew of
damning evidence against a certain Lindsay Whitehill. The spoiled heiress
had gone through with her lawsuit against Ling, only for an army of Chinese 
lawyers to march into the courtroom and instantly file a countersuit on behalf 
of the Chinese state. Whitehill had lost every penny to her name, and more
than that: her opponents literally sued every stitch of clothing from her
body. The little rich girl from Texas was left shivering in the witness booth
with only a pair of Gucci panties left on her body for the sake of courtroom
decency, as hungry paparazzis hurried to get close-ups of every inch of
celebrity skin on display.

The last Ling had heard was that an anonymous international benefactor had 
taken pity on the disgraced heiress and offered her a reasonably well-paid
job as a housekeeper. Lindsay, having nowhere to go since she was no longer
on speaking terms with her dad and her house had been confiscated, had 
reportedly accepted the job and left that very morning for the airport, 
carrying only the ticket that had been enclosed with the letter. In fact, 
accounting for the time difference, Ling thought to herself, she should be 
here any moment.

DING-DONG.

Ling opened the door to accommodate her guest. Sure enough, it was Lindsay
Whitehill, standing demurely in the doorway with one arm covering her naked
breasts, and the other wedged between her legs (she had sold her underwear
to pay for the taxi). When she saw Ling and all the pieces fit together, her
face turned ashen.

"Lindsay! Glad you could make it," Ling said with a dazzling smile. "You
can start working immediately. Food is included, you sleep out of the office 
as we agreed, and oh yes, here's your uniform!"

Ling handed her a tiny black and white French maid's uniform, which looked
small enough to fit a child. "Oh dear me, it seems I got your size all
wrong! Well, that shouldn't be a problem, should it?"

After Lindsay had squeezed herself into the tiny uniform, she looked nearly
as naked as she had when she came in. The cleavage was massive, pushing
up her young breasts to the degree that a strong wind might have caused them
to pop out, and the ruffled skirt just about covered her crotch and nothing
else.

"Perfect!" Ling said teasingly, as she put a duster in the dazed white girl's
hand and pointed her toward her office. "Get to work, then! You can start
by dusting off your own collection. And make sure you do it properly, or
else..." She gave her maid's derriere a cautionary little slap. "...it's
the paddle for you."

Gulping with fear, the disgraced heiress skipped over to Ling's collection
of temple raider memorabilia and began dusting off the items on display,
trying not to look at the photos of her own humiliation longer than was
necessary. Each time she bent over, the stiff skirt buoyed up to allow
Ling a generous view of her tight white rump.

With a pleased sigh, Ling sat down behind her desk. For once, all seemed
right in the universe.

THE END