The Jungle

Manon walks around in front of you, grinning at what is to follow. You are ashamed that you could ever have fantasized about sex with this beast. His dark brown eyes gaze cruelly into yours. He takes the rope and ties a noose. You are scared shitless. You realize that the noose is being prepared for you. As he takes it and brings it towards your head you cry out, "No, God, no!"

You are shaking your head violently to prevent it from being placed around your neck, but to no avail. You sob, terrified by the certainty of your fate.

'Money!' you are jabbering. 'I have money!' But it isn't money Manon wants.

He takes hold of the rope and tugs at it firmly. He lifts it almost gracefully over your head and it rests around your neck. He walks behind you with the rope in his hand. You hear him drop his pants. The other men cheer him on. Your colleagues are off to your right, huddled together in a solemn embrace. You look into their eyes, fixed in doleful fascination upon you, and see their horror, their pity at your fate, but also their relief that it is not they who are tethered.

A hand slides down your panties and plays with your sex. You shake your hips in protest, trying to evade the touch. The rope tightens around your neck. You gag as your neck is squeezed, ripping into your throat, starving you of air. You stand stock-still and a finger presses into your cunt. You body is rigid as you fight for air. You feel his hard, bare cock pressed up against your ass. Only the thin cotton of your panties gives you some semblance of defense. Your torturer is not without mercy and attempts to arouse you by playing with your clit. His fingers slide up and down your slit. You almost laugh at the absurdity of him seeking to pleasure you.

But he is persistent and clearly upset that you are not wet and responding to his attentions. With disgust Manon drops the rope and pulls away from you. He marches over to the group of women and grabs Imelda. The others shriek and try to keep her from his clutches. But of course they do not succeed. Sobbing, she is led meekly over to you. He tugs at her clothes in some simple command for her to undress. She hesitates and he slaps her with the back of his hand. Protests, she knows, are useless and she peels off her t-shirt, revealing small, firm breasts. Manon squeezes them admiringly and then motions to her pants. Unzipping the legs and then unclipping the waistband, she pulls them down. As she does so, her panties slide down her legs too and she tries to stop them in a tragi-comic display of propriety.

He takes her by the arm, brings her in front of you and shouts at the woman, pointing to you. Neither of you understand. Frustrated, he pushes her down and you can feel her sliding between your legs. He is screaming at the woman and kicking her into position. She is sobbing pitifully, 'Please no! Please no!' The natives pay no heed to her. Two of them take Imelda's wrists and bind them to the stone pillars so that she is tethered between your thighs, her face inches away from your midriff.

Manon takes Imelda's head and forces it into your crotch. Now she knows all too clearly what is being asked of her. With grim reluctance she presses her face into your cunt and you can feel her hot breath against your slit. Her lips are warm and slick. In another life you have dreamed of this, imagined dinner parties with sophisticated friends where, once the plates have been cleared and the brandies drunk, you would play sex games in which, bound and teased, you would be pleasured by women and fucked by men until they brought you to merciful climax. But it was never like this. In that life there was consent, beauty and mutual desire. Now there is only obedience, ugliness and survival. Why is it then that you feel your cunt dampening, your limbs relaxing at her ministrations? She licks you tentatively and you want more. You want to feel the full breadth of her tongue lapping at your weeping cunt. Your captors want more too. Two of them press their knives into the soles of her feet. Laughingly they raise the knives and the points are crimson-stained. Imelda screams into your crotch, her yells muffled by your soaking bush. Now she is licking you harder, faster.

'Lick my clit!' someone yells and with astonishment you realize that it's your voice. The natives, delighted, snicker and jeer her on and when, gagging for breath, Imelda relents; they prod their knives into her soles again. Tongue and lips, lips and tongue lick, slurp, suck and lap at your desperate cunt.

You cannot help yourself.... the wetness of the woman's tongue on your clit and your slit release you. Your juices begin to flow and are mixed with the woman's spit.... your juices and her saliva run down your legs. Manon presses his cock against your ass again and you no longer care what he will do. You would gladly take him in your cunt, another in your butt and suck off a third if it would bring you nearer to climax. All you want is to cum. That is all exists in this hell that you now inhabit. You need to feel his cock in you, his stiffly swollen, primeval cock ramming into you.

'Fuck me. Please fuck me,' you plead. They are laughing again, jeering at this lady's needs, she who has come to their forest to enjoy their culture and patronize their pride. You feel the head of Manon's cock press against the lips of your cunt. Imelda stops for an instant and then, as the knife tips press into her once more, she sucks on your clit. Now you're wiggling your hips determinedly to guide him into you. He grabs you firmly by the hips and you feel his member slide into your dripping cunt. You shudder as all of his cock finds its home deep within. You are moaning and groaning. But this is not pain. It is relief beyond any that you have ever known. Imelda's slapping tongue on your clit combines with the battering of his cock as it fills and refills you over and over again.

'Yes,' you are screaming. 'Yes, that's it.'

You open your eyes and see another native crouch behind Imelda and force himself into her. She groans against your crotch as she takes him in. With each thrust, her head buffets your cunt and her jaw presses roughly against you. From behind Manon too is slapping his crotch against your ass and his cock is delving deep and hard.

Your captors are clapping their hands, setting the rhythm for their fellows' fucking. Manon's pace quickens. His hands grip you and his thrust become frantically fierce. Your body shudders and is pressed against the hardness of the stone circle. You are screaming out in rapturous agony. You want to arch and buck, you are desperate to move with his rhythmic fucking. Your bonds rip into your wrists as you try to free yourself. But there is no longer pain, no longer fear. only blissful, endless fucking. Yet you need something more to bring you to the edge, to tip you into that vast ocean of desire and drown in the ecstasy of cumming. Your captor knows this. The rope tightens around your neck. The fibers rub and dig into your daintily white skin, choking you. Now you are delirious with fear and pain. But the fucking seems to penetrate deeper than you have ever known with any man, Imelda's tongue seems to throb against your clit and, through tear-drenched eyes you discern a world that is brighter, sharper, more real. You are light headed, but more than that – almost stoned. The pounding of your cunt will not stop. But now you are so near. The haven of orgasm is calling you, beckoning you. One more tug of the rope. One more thrust. One more brush of Imelda's dear, delicious tongue.

Your man explodes in you, pouring his seed into you. He releases the rope.... the rush of air to your lungs is like pure oxygen...you feel more alive than ever. Your legs seem to buckle at the strength of your orgasm. Imelda's too seems to be cumming, her tongue darting in and out of your cunt with urgency.

'Yes! Yes!' you are weeping.

'Yes! Yes!' Imelda mutters against your cunt.

And as you climax begins at last to recede and Imelda's tongue slows and your man pulls slowly out of you, there is a momentary silence, a stillness in which time seems to stand still. You are going to black out, you know that you are going to black out, and as your eyes close in blissful peace, you hear Manon speak in halting Spanish. You summon the will to ask Imelda, 'What did he say?'

Imelda brings to cry. 'He said, "Leave the rest. Bring these two bitches."'