Ling and the Temple Raiders: Part III - The Final Battle
by T. Prince, tk_prince@hotmail.se


Three years later, Ling must face down the original temple raider.

Three years after the spectacular humiliation of governor Sierra Palyn and her
goons, the temple raiding fad was finally on its way out. All the publicity
surrounding Ling's biggest triumph had resulted in a surge of young
counter-raiders, all of whom were eager to protect their country's glorious
past from greedy foreign hands. In a few months, counter-raiding had become as
thriving an industry as temple raiding, and in every part of the country,
bootprints were being harshly applied to the soft derrieres (and inflated
egos) of young Western women who had misjudged the extent of their privileges
abroad.

As a result, Ling had suddenly found herself competing for opportunities to
dish out those well-earned punishments that had become her trademark. At
first, that had annoyed her, but with time, she had learned to appreciate it
-- if anything because it had taken a sizeable load off her back. She had
relocated her office to the countryside, where she now lived in a traditional
Chinese house with a courtyard.

Here she would spent much of her leisure walking around her house, nowadays
preferring a stylish short qipao to any kind of Western clothing, basking in
the memories brought forth from her trophies. She had insisted on making her
maid, the disgraced ex-heiress Lindsay Whitehill, wear the qipao as well, but
the results had been mixed. The curvy Caucasian girl, with her bulky breasts,
wide hips and protruding buttocks, was a far cry from the swan-like
proportions of a Chinese lady, and always looked like she had been poured into
the garment. To make matters worse, Ling insisted that she wore it "like a
prostitute", without the requisite grace or humility. Eventually, Ling had
tired of the charade, pulled out a pair of scissors and a needle and modified
the qipao so that it would be "more suited to her body and personality". The
result was a looser garment with a ridiculously short skirt, two slits up the
thighs, and a triangle over the chest area that showed off most of Lindsay's
cleavage. All of Ling's friends agreed that it was a marked improvement. Of
course, Lindsay had protested at first, but a brisk detour across Ling's lap
followed by a few well-placed strokes with the paddle had quickly changed her
mind (as well as the color of her buns).

Ling now had a whole hallway filled with souvenirs cherry-picked from
humiliated temple raiders' bodies and backpacks. The newest addition was a
large color photo of Sophie, Marianne and Ludivine -- three petite French
sisters in their early twenties, all brunettes -- with their blushing 'fesses'
pointing skyward, and Ling in the process of swatting one of the Continental
tarts' pert bottoms with a paddle. Ling's French vocabulary had been
significantly enlarged that day, although nearly all of it still consisted of
swear words, apologies and euphemisms for the burning pain in one's soundly
spanked ass. Next there were two pairs of identical Confederate flag-patterned
panties, which Ling had taken from Sally and Barbara Jean, the purebred
Kentucky cowgirls -- "cowgirls in both senses of the word", Ling had thought
upon first seeing the size of their chests. Ling had sent them back home on a
cattle transport, both of their rumps having been branded with the girls' own
cattle branding insignia, which depicted, fittingly, a whooping girl on a
rodeo bull.

Then there were Katja and Josephine, the two Dutch girls who had managed to
get stuck trying to climb through the grave tunnels under Xi'an when they
realized that their curvy bodies were of the entirely wrong format. Ling found
the two blond bimbos stuck at the waist, so that the only thing visible were
their jiggling behinds and dangling legs. Naturally, they were bawling their
eyes out. Ling spent almost a half day in that tomb giving the not-too-bright
grave-robbers their due, turning their smooth white bottoms into mosaics of
Chinese characters forming humiliating admonishments, and sticking their
discarded flashlights handle-first into the tight crevices trembling between
their buttocks.

After that, of course, there was the Beginners' Temple Raiding Expedition,
which had offered an affordable one week course in raiding temples for
tourists. The casualness of the entire enterprise, as if temple raiding had
become an "experience" to squeeze in between visiting the Terracotta Warriors
and climbing the Great Wall, had upset Ling no end. She had inter- cepted the
expidition on their very first day, then -- with some help from the local
population -- stripped down all fifteen tourists to their bare skin (all of
them were white women) and brought them down to a nearby rice farming village.
There she had tied them to a fence with their pale bottoms sticking up and a
nearby sign saying: "Beginners' Temple Raider Spanking Course -- It's an
Experience!" next to a range of spanking implements she had bought with money
from the tourists' wallets. The villagers were very happy to be able to
express their anger in such a creative way, and Ling made sure to upload
pictures of the ensuing bottom-tanning onto all of the women's Facebook pages.

Finally, there was a whole collection detailing the misadventures of Kym
Khardoukian and Venice Hylton, the two famous socialites. Underneath the
photos illustrating their gradual loss of dignity and clothing hung two skimpy
thongs. A last photograph, this one hanging between the thongs like a
commemorative plaque, showed the underwear being put to their best possible
use: the two dominated heiresses were shown topless and hanging from a tree by
their thongs, mouths hanging open with shock and humiliation as the
undergarments revenged themselves upon their obnoxious wearers by sawing deep
into their split open cameltoes.

Still, there was once piece missing in the puzzle. From the very beginning,
there had been a string of raids against some of China's largest, most well-
preserved temples that had been conducted with such speed and surgical
precision that Ling had never been able to stop them. Instead, she had always
found a single note at the raided location, a note bearing the initials "L.C."
and autographed with the lipstick imprint of a kiss. While the raids were
decreasing in frequency, this lone mystery raider was as prolific as ever,
even managing to outsmart whole teams of counter-raiders while getting away
with her loot. All of this bothered Ling immensely, as a comparison of raiding
frequencies over time indicated that this one temple raider had been raiding
temples several weeks before anyone else, and therefore -- it seemed to Ling
-- might single-handedly have initiated the trend in the first place. If this
was true, the damage against Chinese culture caused by this one "original"
temple raider was beyond calculation.

Ling's phone rang, and she read the incoming number: Zhang -- her number one
informer.

"Zhang, what do you have for me?" she said, crossing her fingers.

"Ling! This is terrible! I'm at the tomb of the Sky Emperor, and someone has
broken in! You have to come here now!"

Ling's heart skipped a beat. The tomb of the Sky Emperor was a location so
secret that it hadn't even been disclosed to historians yet. It was 3,000
years old and belonged to an emperor that had previously been thought of as
mythological. Only a handful of people in the world had been allowed entry
into its hallowed rooms, and all of its treasures had been left undisturbed.

"Hang on, Zhang, I'll be there in a minute," Ling said, a million thoughts
buzzing through her head.

***

Four hours later, Ling arrived at the tomb entrance. Feeling particularly
protective of her ancient culture, she had dressed in traditional Chinese
women's battle outfit -- a sleek red and gold tunic with a phoenix motif on
her chest, and a pair of tight golden silk pants that ended just above her
ankles. She had left her hair in a single braid that reached all the way down
to the cleft of her firm bottom. From her waist dangled a small metallic
package which, when unfolded, formed a three-section staff about four feet
long.

Outside the entrance, three naked girls were hanging upside down, gagged with
their own panties. At first, Ling felt a surge of satisfaction, thinking that
someone had already come along and given the naughty intruders their
humiliating just desserts, but she soon realized that she was looking at the
exact opposite. All three girls were Chinese, and something had been written
on their squirming bottoms: the first and third backsides were brandishing the
letters "L" and "C", and the middle butt had been kissed once on each buttock,
resulting in the characteristic lipstick imprint that Ling recognized so well.

When Ling had untied the girls, she learned that they were counter-raiders
too, although younger and less experienced in the field than herself.

"She was s-so fast, and s-s-she had two guns," one of them said, sobbing with
embarassment as she slipped back into her underwear, rubbing the lipstick off
her tender bottom. "And she gave us all a s-spanking..."

"Well, that's what you get for being overconfident," Ling said brusquely, and
she couldn't help feeling a sting of schadenfreude. Counter-raiding was not
for kids -- it was a dangerous pursuit of dangerous people, and deserved to be
treated with the proper respect. As the humiliated young girls stumbled off
down the road, hands massaging their blushing backsides, Ling shouted after
them: "Find another hobby, girls! Otherwise it'll be my hand strapping the
skin off your butts the next time!"

Inside the tomb, it was silent and dark. Ling walked cautiously through the
shadows, examining each wall for opened passages. Her steps echoed through the
darkness with alarming loudness.

Finally, she discovered a small staircase that led further down. After walking
for several minutes, she finally came upon a ledge overlooking a large,
circular room. From the ledge down to the bottom of the opposite wall, someone
had tied a rope and secured it so tightly that it was as tense as a piano
wire. Ling guessed that the tomb raiders had used it to slide down harmlessly
to the floor twenty feet below, so she did the same.

Immediately as she set down her feet, she realized that she had stumbled upon
the tomb itself. She raised her torch, and suddenly the whole room glinted in
the colors of gold, turqouise, jade and obsidian. There were statues, swords,
suits of jewel-encased armour, helmets, figurines of dragons and phoenixes,
arcane astronomical instruments, a library's worth of scrolls, and much more.
She had never seen so much treasure accumulated in a single room.

"Finally! I was getting awfully impatient," a husky female voice said from
somewhere behind her.

Ling turned around just as the speaker stepped out of the shadows and into the
light of the torch. And suddenly, in that very instant, the missing piece had
been found and the puzzle completed. Instead of a team there was only one
temple raider: a Caucasian woman in her late 20s or maybe early 30s. She was
as curvy as any Western woman Ling had come face to face with, a real Amazon,
and her large ripe breasts moved visibly beneath her metallic blue tanktop
with each step. Two guns gleamed under the belt of her brown hotpants, which
hugged her generous hips so tightly that they might as well be part of her
body. Her dark brown hair formed a single braid, and her lips glinted in that
dark red hue that Ling had seen so many times before adordning notes and, a
few minutes earlier, buttocks.

She was Lora Craft, the infamous British aristocrat turned relic "collector".

"But it's... you," Ling said, recognizing her image from a hundred magazine
covers and television and video game spin-offs.

"Who else could it be?" Lora said. She had an unmistakably upper-class accent,
which up until now Ling had only heard in certain Regency costume dramas. "In
an uncharacteristic fit of generosity, I decided to wait until you showed up.
And you didn't disappoint."

"You're a fool if you think you can get away with this," Ling hissed. "This is
one of the most important discoveries in the history of archaeology. You'll be
wanted across the entire planet if you steal a single pin out of this
collection."

"Actually, that is not entirely true," Lora said, cocking her head in a way
that Ling found deeply condescending. "It WILL be one of the most important
discoveries in the history of achaeology, when its existence is announced to
the public. As of now, only three people in the world knows that this room
even exists. There are no photos available, no lists of inventory, nothing."

"You mean..." Ling began.

"...that outside of us two, and one venerable little archeologist in Beijing
who is showing early signs of senility, no one will even be able to tell
what's missing. Exactly."

Ling was so furious that she had to actively restrain herself from running up
to the tomb raider and slap that self-satisfied grin off her face. But in the
end, she realized that what was actually holding her back was fear. She was
standing face to face with the most prolific temple raider of all time, and
the only one with a 100% track record of success. With growing horror, Ling
realized that she was finally up against an opponent whom she had virtually no
chance of defeating.

"Now if you excuse me, I have a treasure to elope with," Lora said as she
turned her back toward Ling and bent over at the waist to pick up a
particularly ornate vase. In doing so, the tomb raider perked up her shapely
rear end so that she was effectively mooning her opponent.

This was the last straw for Ling, who rushed forward, mad with desire to stomp
her bootprint onto that insolent white rump. However, Lora nimbly spun around
at the right moment to deliver a ferocious roundhouse kick to Ling's face. The
impact sent spittle cascading out of Ling's mouth, and she dropped her guard
long enough for the aristocrat to land an equally hard kick to Ling's
midsection.

"Unngghhh!!" Ling moaned as she bent over double. Lora grabbed her chin and
forced the Chinese girl's furious gaze to meet her own.

"Know your place," she said with an expression of pure contempt, before
ramming her bare knee into Ling's chest. Ling felt the air being forcibly
ejected from her lungs, and fell to her knees, coughing and wheezing.

She heard the busty tomb raider walk around her, and finally felt the tip of a
foot nudge her on the bottom, like some curious animal. The foot pushed her
forward until she stood on all fours, still wheezing wildly from the blow to
her ribcage. Finally, the tomb raider took aim and delivered a merciless kick
to Ling's crotch.

WHACK! "OOOHH!!" The pain was intolerable. Ling felt as if someone had
flattened her vulva with a sledgehammer. Her hands flew to her violated
privates and she squealed at the top of her lungs.

"What a disappointment," Lora said with a sigh. "I'd been led to believe that
you were some kind of a professional, but in reality you're as weak as those
three flat-chested little bimbos I just made short work of."

"I'm... not... weak!" Ling said, still aching all over from the blows to her
chest and groin. She craned her head and saw the tomb raider's long white legs
approach her again. Ling decided to count down from three, and then, tapping
into her emergency reserves of fighting spirit, whipped out her three-section
staff into its full length, and aimed a sweeping blow at Lora Craft's ankles.

The tomb raider didn't skip a beat. She jumped over the blow, then reached
down to snatch the weapon out of Ling's hands, spun it around, and whacked the
Chinese girl on her unguarded rear end. Ling felt the steel slice into her
bottom with paralyzing force and she cried out in pain.

"As I said... weak," Lora Craft added, disdainfully. Ling saw the long white
legs approach her again, but this time she felt powerless to do anything about
it. The next instant, she felt Lora's familiarly heart-shaped derriere lower
itself down on her back. She realized, with a surprising sense of calm, that
the game was lost.

"In any case, I can't have you sniffing around in my affairs all the time,"
the tomb raider began, and Ling felt her ankles being tied up with a rope. "So
as to set an example, I think I'll just end you right here on the spot. I hope
you won't mind."

Soon thereafter, the tomb raider pointed a hook-firing device at the ceiling,
fired a hook into its center with the other end of the rope tied to it, and
began hoisting Ling upside down into the air. Finally, the disgraced Chinese
girl was dangling nearly thirty foot above ground.

"That should do it." Lora Craft drew one of her pistols, aimed it at the rope
and fired. The bullet grazed the rope, leaving a hole in it which quickly
started to grow in size, as one by one the fibers in the rope gave way to the
demands of gravity.

"You're... a murderer...!" Ling hissed, her eyes pleadingly fixed on the few
fibers that stood between her and oblivion.

"Oh, spare me your moralities. You if anyone should know that all is fair in
love, war and relic hunting," the tomb raider said with a laugh as she
disappeared back into the shadows.

Ling was left in the near-darkness, looking at what was certainly to be the
last thing she would ever look at. Seconds passed, feeling like hours. The
hole in the rope grew bigger and bigger, until only a few strands of hemp
remained.

She became conscious of a light appearing in the room far beneath her, but she
didn't dwell too much on it. The rope had now given way almost entirely. Only
seconds remained...

Suddenly a voice spoke to her from far below: "Hang on there! I'll catch you,
I promise!"

Ling winced. That voice was speaking to her in her own language. But what had
at first seemed like a sliver of hope quickly disappeared when she saw the
last fibers give way and the rope snap from her weight. This was it --
goodbye, you cruel and unfair world, where temple raiders win and righteous
people die for trying to make it better.

WHOMP! She fell into a pair of arms, and was lowered harmlessly down onto the
tomb floor. A moment later, she was untied and back on her feet.

"What... when... who are-?" she began, nonplussed.

"I'm Ming Hao, student archaeologist at Beijing University," her rescuer
replied, and at that moment her torch came back on and they got their first
good looks at each other.

Hao was a slender, attractive woman with intelligent eyes. She was younger
than Ling but about the same size. Her gleaming black hair was tied in a
conservative bun behind her head, and she was wearing an outfit rather like
Ling's -- a short black tunic with a silver trim and a peony blossom pattern,
and a pair of white silk shorts underneath.

"I believe we have a friend in common," she continued. "Zhang Pinming, your
informer, is my boyfriend."

"How did he know I was in trouble?" Ling asked, as the world around her began
to regain its color and shape.

"He didn't. I came here based on the same information that he gave you. But
nonetheless," Hao extended her hand, "It's an honor to meet you. I remember
reading about those raiders you busted at the Heavenly Mountain Temple. You're
a pro."

"Don't mention it," Ling said, although now she felt much of her former pride
returning as well.

"Anyway, we shouldn't be wasting time," Hao added briskly. "I think our mutual
enemy has just finished looting the lower chambers, and will be making her
escape any minute now."

"Wanna help me teach her a lesson she won't soon forget?" Ling asked, rubbing
her knuckles with excitement.

"That's what I'm here for," her new friend replied, and Ling realized to her
joy that they were both on the same wavelength.

***

Further down in the tomb, Lora Craft had found her escape route: a large hole
in the rock wall, beneath which there was a heart-stopping hundred meter
plunge down a vertical cliff face to the Dalong river, which ran like a thin
blue ribbon at the bottom. She had already erected her escape rope from the
ledge directly beneath her to a ledge on the opposite cliff face. Climbing
down that rope would mean crawling fifty meters over a gaping abyss, but Lora
didn't mind. In fact, the danger turned her on.

A few meters away was her backpack, filled to the brim with treasure. She was
nearly done, and there was just one more thing she had to get: a vanity
photograph. She placed her digital camera on the floor, walked up to the hole
in the wall so that the blue sky outlined her features, and struck her
favorite pose: standing spread-legged with her back to the camera and looking
nonchalantly over her shoulder. She arched her back a bit so as to showcase
what she'd always considered to be her exceptionally well-shaped ass, and
puckered her lips a little. That was it: her ravishing body displayed to its
very best advantage.

The camera went off, illuminating the entire room -- and revealing two figures
standing in the shadow only a few meters away. For the first time in what
seemed to her many years, Lora's lips fell open in surprise.

"They have a term for that: I believe it's called 'shameless narcissism'," Hao
said as she stepped into the light.

"Self-adoration is the only sensible response when one wakes up to find
oneself endowed with superhuman talents, superior wit and a body that would
make Venus herself blush with envy. Now, more pressingly, who the bloody hell
are you?" Lora asked, her face once again caught in an expression of extreme
distaste.

"Someone who takes a genuine interest in the things that you steal for your
own profit," Hao replied. "Someone who sees value in artifacts beyond how
pretty they would look on a mantelpiece."

"What a load of nonsense," Lora scoffed. "Do you really think that a person
like myself would work for profit? Money is of no use to me. Neither is the
decorative value of whatever happens to be on my mantelpiece. I have a
lifetime's supply of the first, and as for the second, I have a friend in Nice
who makes fabulous female nudes on commission, all of which make for
infinitely more appealing decor than any bloody Ming vase. No, I'm in this for
the thrill -- which, by the way, is the only truly noble cause there is."

"Then how would you like the thrill of me shoving my foot up your greedy ass
until it comes out of your mouth?" Ling asked. "Now THAT would be a picture
worth taking."

"Well," Lora said, cocking her head with typical nonchalance. "If that's not
an invitation to a first-class arse kicking, I don't know what is."

The brunette cracked her knuckles and began stretching her back, causing her
super- sized rack to push itself out to its fullest advantage. Hao produced a
large ornate rod that she had borrowed from the treasury, and Ling folded out
her three-section staff.

"Come on then, you tiny-titted skanks," Lora said, beckoning them with her
hands.

Hao attacked first, spinning the rod around her body with the grace and speed
of a dancer. Lora, however, dodged every blow, ducking left and right like a
professional boxer, and eventually broke through Hao's defenses with a quick
punch to her gut. When Hao bent over in pain, Lora snatched the rod out of her
hands, spun it around behind her back, and finally cracked it down over the
Chinese girl's shoulders, sending her plummeting to the ground.

When Ling came at her, the tomb raider effortlessly deflected each oncoming
blow with Hao's rod, eventually pushing Ling's weapon into the ground and
trapping it there with her foot. Ling tugged at her slack weapon to no avail
-- Lora's foot suddenly seemed as heavy as an anvil.

"You never learn, do you?" the tomb raider said with a mocking smirk, before
landing a paralyzing punch into Ling's face -- CRACK! -- striking the bridge
of her nose. Ling felt nauseous, and soon thereafter she felt a familiar thick
substance well up in her nostrils.

Hao was back on her feet, but some residual pain in her shoulders caused her
to drop her guard long enough for Lora to grab her by the roots of her hair
and lift her up until she was dangling a few inches above ground. When Ling
staggered forward to help her friend, Lora grabbed her by her ponytail and
lifted her up in the same way.

"You two seem to hit it off really well. Why don't you go for a little
smooch?" Lora said teasingly, and then rammed the two Chinese girls' faces
into each other with a sickening thud. As Hao and Ling sank to the floor, Ling
became painfully conscious of how humiliatingly they had just been dispatched
-- a fact that was only exacerbated by the manner in which they had landed:
each slumped face-down onto the floor next to the other, with both of their
butts pointing up in a cartoonish fashion.

"Look at you two, with your cute little bums in the air like that," Lora
laughed. With gentle tugs, she slipped down the girls' pants to their ankles,
and Ling felt herself blushing with embarrassment when Lora gave her backside
a frisky pinch. "Oh girls, this is not acceptable. Are you secretly ten year
old boys in disguise? These bums are almost as flat as your chests."

"At least we can walk through doorways without getting stuck in two places!"
Hao yelled out.

Lora went silent for a few moments, and both Hao and Ling instantly understood
that they had stumbled upon her weak spot: her vanity.

"Are you calling me fat?" Lora said, her voice having dropped an octave. "Me!?
That's taking it too bloody far, you little gook bitch! Do you know what
Esquire magazine called me in their latest issue? "A woman whose body has
probably caused more automobile pile-ups in her life than a meteor shower over
Tokyo". Now Playboy: "Lora Craft's heavenly derriere ought to be given a place
in the Louvre". My breasts have won the Golden Melons award three years in a
row! An artist in Germany once painted my-"

"Hey fat-ass!" Ling shouted from behind her. Lora turned around, her eyes
clouded with anger. "Catch me if you can!"

With those words, she darted up the steps to the main chamber, with the tomb
raider in hot pursuit. When she had reached the rope by which she had entered
the tomb, she took a deep breath, and then began walking up the rope, with her
both arms extended for balance. A tremor in the rope told her that the much
heavier woman was following right behind her. She felt like a gazelle being
pursued by a lioness along a narrow rock ledge.

"Do you think the rope will hold the both of us? I bet it's sagging a bit from
the weight of your big old ass. Maybe you shouldn't have had that last platter
of fish and chips..." Ling cackled as she approached the top ledge.

"I'll kill you, you little... you little ant!" Lora heaved behind her.

"Tell me, if you fall on your boobs from his height, will they go 'POP' like
balloons or just flatten like pancakes? In either scenario, I don't think
they'll be in shape to win more Golden Melons..."

"Now you're reaaaally asking for it!"

When Ling had reached the top ledge she quickly jumped off the rope, whisked
out a tiny pen knife, and cut off the end of the rope. For a split second, the
two womens' gazes met, and Ling could see Lora's blue eyes grow to twice their
normal size as it dawned on her what was happening. The next moment, she began
her seven feet plunge to the floor.

"Gotcha!" Ling hissed.

THWACK! Lora Craft landed flat on her prize-winning rump with a high-pitched
squeal, and remained sitting with her legs akimbo like a disoriented child.
Her mouth hung open in shock and disbelief. This was not what she was used to
-- in fact it had never happened before: the brilliant, ravishing, all-around
perfect tomb raider being mocked to her face, and then falling lamely on her
butt like a cartoon villainness. She -- the great Lora Craft, the greatest
relic raider of her generation! The absurdity of the situation caused Lora's
judgment to deteriorate even more rapidly.

"Told ya!" Ling chirped from overhead. "That ass went down like a lead
balloon!"

"Funny you should make that analogy," Lora said, immediately springing into
the air and pulling out her twin guns mid-jump, then turning around to fire
off a volley of bullets toward the top ledge. "Cause these ass pockets really
are carrying a shitload of lead!"

Ling dropped headlong to the ground as the bullets ricocheted in all
directions over her head.

"Hey Calamity Jane!"

Lora turned around too late, and a familiar bejeweled rod struck one of her
pistols out of her hand. A small hand gripped the other one, and after a few
seconds of furious tugging, managed to wrestle it out of her hands as well.
The curvy Westerner now found herself unarmed and within uncomfortably close
range of Hao's long rod. With her blue eyes widening and her plushy red lips
forming a puzzled circle, for a split second the tough relic raider looked as
vulnerable as a big baby.

Hao let the rod cut two low swaths through the air, each pushing one of the
raider's two legs further apart from each other. Lora, standing spread-legged
and suddenly feeling disastrously exposed, swallowed a single gulp as she cast
a quick glance downwards.

"Up your snatch, you Western slut!" Hao yelled out, and swung the rod upwards
with all her might. The pole connected perfectly with the brunette's pubic
mound and sunk through the soft flesh until it reached the pubic bone,
producing a hollow bell-like sound. Lora's eyes shot wide open and she sank to
her knees.

"Unnnggghhhh!!" she moaned, clutching her smashed-up private parts as a single
tear squeezed its way out of her squinting blue eye. Ling had just descended
from her hiding place and found the sore-cooched Englishwoman rocking back and
forth on her knees, and Hao nonchalantly stretching her shoulders a few feet
away.

"I think I just broke her punani," Hao said with a satisfied smile. "Hey
Barbie, hope you're not too fond of wearing tight-fitting undies, because
you'll probably have to go without them for a couple of weeks!"

Lora was so flustered that she couldn't even speak. With a roar she lept to
her feet and began firing off punches toward Hao, but the nimble Asian was
quicker and dropped to her knees, sliding between the white woman's knees and
materializing on the other side of her. Before Lora could process what had
happened, Hao reached around her and teasingly grabbed hold of the tomb
raider's melon-sized breasts, squeezing them like overripe fruit.

"Say moooo!" she said, as she kneaded the Caucasian's overproportioned
mammaries until they spilled out like jelly between her fingers. Lora tried
turning around, but the Chinese girl hung on to her like a backpack,
continuing to work her tender boobs like playdough, and occasionally
mock-milking them by squeezing the rapidly hardening nipples. Ling stood a few
feet away, enjoying the spectacle.

After about half a minute, Lora had had just about enough, and decided to drop
back-first into the stone floor to rid herself of her tormentor. However, the
unprovoked relaxation in her muscles just before the drop gave away her plan
to Hao, who instantly jumped aside and held out her leg, causing Lora to trip
over her ankle and go spinning like a dervish mid-fall -- finally falling flat
on her sore breasts and flattening them against the floor with a discreet
SPLAT!

"Ooh, right on the udders!" Hao said with a whistle.

Lora Craft was crushed. This was not who she imagined herself to be -- the
whip-smart heroine who posed over conquered treasures with a sexy wink and her
backside generously stuck out for the camera. Suddenly she was instead the
tactless bimbo Goliath, outsmarted and outclassed by two slimmer, faster, less
privileged opponents. And suddenly the full of extent of how many
well-deserved punishments she had managed to evade came crushing down on her.
She felt the karmic forces of the universe come rushing at her from all
directions, and for a split second, she saw her body from outside of herself,
and just as she feared, the wide curves, succulent breasts and round derrierre
that she had always prided herself on suddenly seemed all too ripe for
humiliating comeuppance.

"Do you want to take over for a while?" Hao asked Ling, who was coming up
beside her.

"Sure," Ling said. She was standing over the tomb raider, who had arched her
back in the fall and as such was once again displaying her firm rear to its
best advantage. Ling had given many over-confident Caucasian tails a sound
kicking, but none seemed to be as screamingly in need of her shoeprint as this
one. Somehow, she imagined, by giving this naughty madam her just desserts,
she was in essence delivering a kick up the rump of every young Western woman
who had ever taken an interest in relic raiding, or would ever do so in the
future.

Ling unbuttoned Lora's tight-fitting hotpants and slid them down to her
ankles. To her surprise and delight, the intrepid tomb raider was wearing a
pair of girly white panties with a lacy hem that were so underproportioned for
her bodacious backside that they clung to every curve and poured into her
crack -- making her look just as naked with them on as without them.

"Take a look at that," Hao whistled. "Did the slut spraypaint those on or
what?"

"Only one way to find out!"

Ling grabbed the hem of Lora's panties and gave them a violent tug, causing
the fabric to disappear up her crack and cleave her shapely bottom like a
split peach. The force of the brutal wedgie sent the tomb raider to her knees
with a pained squeal. Ling pulled again, this time even harder, letting the
panties -- which were being stretched to the thickness of a g-string -- saw
mercilessly into the white woman's slit and butt. Another high-pitched shriek.
Finally, a third tug shocked Lora Craft to her feet with a deafening scream.

"AAIIIEEE!!"

The tomb raider danced around a bit, looking like a girl who had just sat down
on a hornet's nest. Gingerly, she reached back into her tush and began fishing
around for her lost underwear, seemingly without success. Eventually, to a
chorus of titters from Hao and Ling, she managed to extract the majority of
her underwear from depths within her ass she barely knew existed, and spread
it back like a layer of butter over her tender buttocks.

"Bloody hell! I won't be able to sit comfortably for a month," she grumbled to
herself.

"Actually, you might want to revise that figure by the time we're done with
you," Ling said.

"Yeah, because we're about to take your pasty white ass out to the woodshed,"
Hao said, "and you bet those Goldilocks panties won't be staying on after
we've bent you over!"

For a second, something close to fear flashed across Lora's blue eyes, and
Ling could tell that the idea of being spanked did not fit very well with
Lora's image of herself. It was an indignity that she couldn't possibly allow
herself to sink to, and yet for the first time the possibility of it actually
happening seemed almost tangible. In a fit of desperation, the busty brunette
turned toward the treasury and pulled out a large Chinese sword.

"Then I guess I need to step up my game," Lora said, her voice wavering
slightly. Raising the sword over her head, she ran toward Hao, fully prepared
to cleave the insolent Chinese girl in two pieces, when suddenly she
discovered that the sword had slipped out of her hands along the way.

Rrriittsscchhh! The next moment, her top fluttered to the ground, a gash along
its length revealing that it had been cut open. Since Lora was not wearing a
bra, her two volleyball-sized breasts were fully exposed, and both nipples
were still fully erect from being "milked".

"Did anyone order two big vanilla flans with cherries on top?" Ling chirped
from behind the tomb raider, who seemed unsure whether to cover up her breasts
or feign unconcern, and finally settled for something inbetween.

"Not me, they look disgusting," Hao said with a mock grimace.

"Then how about these two juicy hams?" Ling asked, playfully jabbing the
needle- sharp tip of the sword into the cleft of the white bad girl's booty
and sending her to her toes with a girlish peep.

Lora had began to sweat profusely. Karma was catching up with her and after
this there would be no escape. She decided to go for broke.

In the guise of adjusting her panties, she discreetly reached inside them and
pulled out the tiny knife she always kept there. Ling failed to notice, but
Hao instantly caught it.

"Ling, watch out!"

The brown-haired amazon lunged at her smaller foe, who jumped back and only
narrowly avoided being stabbed through the heart. Next, Lora aimed for Ling's
sword-carrying hand, and managed to cut a thin scrape onto her index finger.

"Aah!!" Ling dropped the sword, and Lora's desperate face suddenly broke into
a sadistic leer.

"You're mine now, you sneaky little gook," she hissed, raising her knife.

"Ling, catch!"

An object whirled through the air, and a moment later a short ornate stick --
a ceremonial 'bo' - had appeared in Ling's hand. Ling craned her head and saw
that Hao had picked up and identical weapon for herself. The smile on Lora's
lips died out, and her blue eyes widened with alarm as she realized that she
had jumped out of the frying pan into the fire.

"What do you say, Hao?"

"I say let's kick some floppy gweilo ass!"

And then the two Chinese girls entered into an improvised game of striking
their prey back and forth between each other -- a juggling exhibition so well
synchronized that an observer would have been forgiven for thinking that it
had been choreographed. Ling began by ramming her bo into the white girl's
stomach -- "OOWW!!" -- causing her to double over so that Hao could slam her
own staff into the pits of Lora's knees -- "AAYY!!" -- sending her upright
again so that Ling could deliver a flattening blow to the valkyrie's naked
breasts, squishing them like jellyfish -- "AAOOHH!!" -- causing her to lose
guard long enough for Hao to catapult her bo upwards and smash it into her
swollen snatch -- OOHHH!!" -- making her lower her upper body in pain so that
Ling could bring her bo crashing down over the tomb raider's shoulders --
"EEAAHH!!" -- sending her crashing to the floor with her butt arched up into
the air.

"This is what you get for being a cheating, thieving, shameless imperialist
pig!" Hao yelled as she whacked her bo across the helpless bad girl's tush,
beating the jiggling buns left and right -- pearly droplets of sweat flying
off them with every blow -- until they looked like the ass equivalent of
Rudolph the Reindeer's nose. Lora's whimpers turned to squeals as the
luminosity of her backside increased until it almost resembled a neon
decoration.

After some twenty seconds, the tomb raider scrambled to her feet and began
running toward the lower staircase, but Ling held out her bo and tripped her
to the floor, causing her to -- SPLAT! -- fall flat on her thoroughly
tenderized boobs and slide to a halt. Ling sat down on her back and began
peeling back her tiny panties, revealing every last inch of her prize-winning,
well-spanked rump and hairless pussy.

Ling noticed that Lora was sobbing.

"What's this I hear? The great Lora Craft, sobbing her eyes out like a little
girl?"

"Please l-l-et me go, *sob* m-my boobs hurt and I w-wanna go hooome..."

"They're all like this," Ling sighed. "Tough when they have the upper hand,
but once they're caught with their panties down, they turn into infants."

However, Lora was not yet down for the count. With a screech, she slid out
from beneath her Asian foe, and jumped onto her from behind, locking her arms
around Ling's neck. Ling was forced down on all fours, and the crazed brunette
followed up by wrapping her long legs around Ling's midsection, putting her in
a leg scissor.

"Hao, help me out over here!" Ling yelled as she felt the air being squeezed
out of her lungs.

"Gladly," Hao said with a smile. Lora's wide leg hold had slid apart her
buttocks somewhat, and had the effect of stretching the tiny puckering hole in
their center open. Hao raised her bo like a lance and ran forward.

"This is for China!" She yelled, as she rammed the blunt end of the bo into
the well-exposed cleft, stretching the white woman's pink little asshole to
its maximum width and then plunging inside it.

"EEEEEEAAAAHHHH!!!" Lora screamed and stiffened up, then went limp like a
noodle, which only eased the path of the spelunking staff as it laboriously
pushed itself deeper and deeper inside her. When about a fifth of the bo had
disappeared up the tomb raider's tight anus, Hao began pulling it out halfway
and then back in, each new penetration removing some of the friction and
allowing for smoother entry into the busty brunette's interior.

"OOH-HA!! OOH-OW!! OOH-EEH!!" Lora squealed in staccato each time the bo
violated her, each squeal increasing in pitch since each penetration carried
the staff half an inch further inside her. Ling felt Lora's nipples harden
against her back.

After a while, the brunette's butthole was as frictionless as a well-oiled
pipe, and Hao decided it was time to wrap it up. With a mighty push, the
forced the bo into the submissive anus until half of it had disappeared inside
it.

"OOOHHHHHHHHHH!!!" the white girl moaned as a huge tremor passed through every
muscle of her naked, sweaty body.

"I call it the 'bimbo kebab'," Hao said after Ling had crept up beside her,
and they were both admiring their handiwork. The dominated brunette was still
standing on all fours -- mainly because the half-submerged bo prevented her
from lying down -- with the staff poking out of her butt like a stiff tail.
She was moaning loudly, and a few translucent drops were hanging out of her
trembling vagina.

"OK, let's take it out before she explodes," Ling said, and began pulling out
the staff -- she was surprised at effortlessly it came out -- until the blunt
end was ejected with a slurping sound. Lora stood up on wobbly legs and placed
two trembling fingers in her burning tush to assure herself that it was still
there. Shocked, she discovered that the delicate little opening that she had
so often admired with her fingers had been replaced by a gaping maw. She
turned her tear-stained face toward her enemies, blue eyes burning with
hatred.

"As I said, you might need to revise that figure from earlier," Ling said with
a chuckle.

Lora made a flustered noise, trying to decide whether her desire for revenge
was greater than her fear of even more total humiliation. Abruptly, she
decided that it was not, and began fleeing toward the lower staircase. Hao and
Ling followed in hot pursuit. When they had reached the lower room through
which Lora had planned to escape, the tomb raider swiped the bag containing
her loot and began to climb up toward the hole -- on the other side of which
was the hundred meter plunge down to the Dalong river.

Just as she was halfway through the hole, Ling caught hold of the bag from
behind, and for almost half a minute the two women were engaged in a desperate
tug of war. Finally, Ling managed to pull herself up sufficiently close to
snatch the bag out of the Caucasian woman's hands. The residual force from the
tug of war caused the naked white amazon to fall halfway through the hole, so
that her entire upper body hung suspended in the air. She twisted her head
around to see what Ling was planning to do, and her eyes widened to the size
of saucers.

"Bon voyage, bitch!" Ling said, just moments before she brought the bag down
on the tomb raider's upturned ass with a gratifying SMACK!

The blow caused the white bad girl to tumble headfirst out through the hole,
spin half a revolution through the air and finally -- SCHWANG!! -- land
crotch-first on her escape rope, with one leg hanging down on each side of it.

Lora, hardly believing her luck, was just about to breathe out -- until terror
seized her again when she realized what was about to happen. The rope had been
fastened about five meters lower on the other side, making the rope tilt
slightly downwards, and gravity was already taking advantage of this
disastrous miscalculation. A terrible scraping sensation in her perineum told
her that she was beginning what was guaranteed to be a nightmare descent to
the other side.

"OOOIIIII!!!!" the curvy brunette squealed as she began gaining speed, and the
rope sawed away at her crack and perineum. Ling and Hao watched the spectacle
from afar, when Ling pointed out a thin blue spark that seemed to be trailing
the white woman's jiggling buns. The ropeburn effect, evidently, was creating
a bolt of static electricity that was also frying her unfortunate rump from
underneath.

"Damn, what are the odds of that happening?" Hao asked, her mouth hanging
open.

"No odds are too high when karma is in play," Ling replied.

When the unlucky tomb raider had almost reached the other ledge, she had
gained so much speed and force that she was leaving a trail of flame behind
her. Here, Ling pulled out her pen knife, reached down through the hole and
cut off the rope. Only a few meters left to the other side, Lora suddenly
found herself in freefall, and then fell straight into the rock wall, the
impact mashing her proud boobs into flat discs.

After a few seconds, the squashed brunette disattached herself from the rock
wall and fell like a pebble into the roaring river, a thin plume of smoke
trailing out of her well-roasted ass all the way down.

"Damn," Ling said, turning to her friend. "I don't think I've ever kicked a
bad girl's butt so hard in my life."

"Where does this river lead?" Hao asked.

"Probably downstream to the old village, there's a bend in the river there
where things usually wash u- Wait a minute, that gives me an idea!" Ling said,
after which she pulled out her cellphone and dialed a number. "Zhang, it's me.
Get me the number of the local counter-raiding bureau, and quick!"

***

Fifteen minutes later, a water-logged Lora drifted ashore near the closest
bend of the river, and remained lying face down in the sand like a beached
mermaid. She was conscious of the fact that a strand of seaweed had annoyingly
snaked its way into her asshole and that crabs were scuttling all over her
naked legs, but she couldn't be bothered to remove them. Her humiliation was
finally over.

"Now I just need to get my sexy arse on a plane out of here," she groaned,
pushing herself up on her elbows and stretching her back.

"Not just yet," someone said nearby.

Lora winced and turned her head slowly toward the speaker, frozen mid-stretch
with her ass pointing up in the air.

And there were the three young counter-raiders she had humiliated so badly,
all of them with evil grins on their faces. One of them was carrying a large
iron paddle emblazoned with the Chinese star-studded national emblem, each
line accentuated by raised metal lettering. The other two were carrying,
respectively, a roll of rope and a large calligraphy brush. For a moment, Lora
thought that she was going to pee herself on the spot.

"First we're going to take you down to our bureau, then we're going to spank
the living hell out of your ass, and then we're going to do some paintwork,"
the girl carrying the paddle said. "*Then*, if we're feeling generous, we can
talk about your trip home."

She promptly walked up to the stunned white bad girl and raised the paddle up
over her shoulder.

"Now get moving!" she commanded, before bringing the paddle down on the
conveniently upturned white rump with a massive THWACK!

***

A few days later, Ling was admiring the latest addition to her souvenir wall
when a letter plopped through the mail slot. She picked it up and tore it
open. It contained a photograph of a certain heart-shaped derriere which she
instantly recognized. The famous butt had been stamped on its exact center
with a glowing imprint of the Chinese emblem, and the imprint was so deep that
it would probably remain there for a very long time. The emblem had been
framed with an Chinese nursery rhyme about a naughty little girl whose pride
became her downfall, with an extra verse added that was definitely not for
children, although it did provide some helpful detail as to the comeuppance of
its main character. Between the two round buttocks there was a small black
tuft, which Ling instantly recognized as the drawing end of a calligraphy
brush -- it didn't require much detective work to figure out where the rest of
the brush had gone. On the bottom of photo someone had written a single word:
"Thanks".

"You're welcome," Ling said, before fastening the photo to her wall beneath
the pair of lacy white panties that belonged to the same disgraced bottom.

Her phone rang and she answered it.

"Ling! It's me -- Hao," her friend replied in her usual matter-of-fact tone.

"Hao! Listen, uh, hanks a lot for helping me out back there. I thought I was a
goner until you came along."

"Don't mention it. I couldn't have made it without you either. In fact, I'm
calling to ask you if you want to team up for a couple of other bust-ups."

"I don't know, Hao," Ling said, a tad regretfully, "I have constant
surveillance on all known locations in the risk zone and I'm pretty sure that
temple raiding is dead. China is swarming with counter-raiders and it's just
gotten plain too dangerous for them."

"Who said anything about China?" Hao asked, and before Ling could asked what
she meant, she had hung up.

A second later, a mail arrived in Ling's inbox. It contained a whole slew of
maps and scribbled notes, seemingly describing plans to raid ancient locations
in at least five different countries. There were long inventories of relics in
ancient Hindu temples, forgotten Egyptian tombs, long-lost Inca cities,
archaeology digs in Mali and a particularly mysterious location in the jungles
of southern Nepal, which had been circled five times in red marker and was
described in a frantic scribble as the last known location of the
Philosopher's Stone.

Ling smiled to herself. Once again, the world was an exciting place for a
counter-raider.

THE END