Tribute

She couldn't clearly recall afterward, but she might have made some exclamations she shouldn't have, while she was coming on the men's cocks. She might have screeched out things like "Christ!" and "Fuckin' A!" and (perhaps the most embarrassing; she wasn't sure where exactly it had emerged from) "Hohhh Momma!"—exactly the kinds of stuff she had been determined not to let herself verbalize. That resolution ended up out the window. Her pleasure was too enormous. The men hadn't seemed to notice what she said, or hadn't let it bother them if they did. Maybe they weren't entirely as dumb and superstitious as she had the buggers pegged.

Having completed, rapidly, the round of gallops, Marion had intended to work over the set again in a different position—still, however, taking them on in an individual basis. She'd let them each have a go in the ostensibly dominant spot, missionary or doggy, whichever they preferred ... Only that wasn't what ended up happening.

All three chaps had piled on to her at the same time.

She didn't fight them. She didn't try. In fact she didn't have time. They seemed to all be pushing inside of her from every possible direction before she'd realized what was happening. And though she was taken by surprise, and was startled, and bewildered, their cocks didn't hurt her when they did what they did, shoving in where they shoved. Quite the reverse.

Yes, that included the one that plunged up her butthole.

She screamed a whole lot, though most of them got muffled by the cock in her mouth. None of the screaming was from pain. Agony, yes. Dear God yes. But the other kind.

Another time a good longish while back when she'd been tripleteamed—not something she let herself think back on, in the ordinary run of events—she'd been held in place bent forward on her knees, astride one guy on his back obviously but not really galloping him because she had no control at all of the situation. All the motion was controlled by the men. Her arms got held stretched straight backwards behind her by the guy ramming her arse, clinging to her wrists—her shoulders had ached for several days, from the twisting of their sockets—while the guy with his cock down her throat was holding her head by the hair the whole time. It hadn't been an enjoyable escapade. Just a test of endurance. The only small satisfaction she'd taken in it was pride in having toughed out the business to the end without bursting into tears and pleading for the bastards to relent.

This time was like a deliberately engineered inversion of that experience. For starters, she was tilted backwards instead of forwards, essentially sitting on the man with his cock implanted straight up her rectum far as it could push, with both her legs lifted in the air, her feet almost over her head, supported at the ankles by the hands of the guy in front of her plugged into her cunt. While the third man stood behind her left shoulder to feed his cock into her mouth, though he wasn't too insistent about it, after his first push—he backed off most of the way and just sort of offered it against her cheek, not prodding her lips or slapping her face of it, and not grabbing her hair, leaving it up to her if and when she wanted to turn and engulf it again in her mouth ...

Rewarding his courtesy, she didn't make him wait too long for that to happen. Meanwhile, the other two set about a ferocious competition to see which of their cocks in her cunt and her arse could drive her to the fastest and hugest orgasm. They made an Olympic event of it. Only Marion herself was in no position to judge between them, at that stage. She could no longer coherently distinguish separate orgasms. Her ecstasy had become unified and endless.

"Oh you beautiful boys! You lovely gorgeous men! You magnificent and wonderful fuckers!" Except none of these compliments, heartfelt though they were, came out of her mouth intelligibly, due to the extremity of her emotions, and her continuous convulsions, and also of course the cock that was still filling her mouth, and, periodically, a good portion of her neck.

The guy she was blowing grabbed one of her suspended feet and kissed the top of it, despite how dusty it was. He licked and nibbled a little at her toes, tickling them, making them squirm. The guy fucking her cunt could tell from the look on her face that she liked the feeling, and decided to try the same kind of application with her other foot, since it was available in his grip right there in front of him. Aiming at the arch, his tongue tickled her worse than the other guy's. Worse in the best way.

"Everything you do makes me come!" Marion declared, or would have if she was capable of speech. "Everything you do to me! Coming! Coming! Ahhaaahhhuuhhaahh!"

Maybe they three-wayed her like that for ten minutes, or maybe it was twenty. Maybe it went on for even longer. But it couldn't go on forever. The cock in her arse was the first to give up its seed. She felt it discharge within her, as the man bellowed. As if following his signal, the other two cocks delivered their tribute—both pulled clear of her body before they did, aiming the spray over her torso. And those two men chanted their funny prayer together as they came. They covered her boobs. The one that fucked her cunt did the left one, and the one she had sucked did the right. As she watched it happening, and felt the warm goo splashing and spreading across her nipples, one final orgasmic surge flooded through her system, and then it was over. All too quick. Normality crashed back into place, and her consciousness descended from the cosmos in a spiral of vertigo toward blank exhaustion.

The two men put their cocks back in her mouth for a few more seconds at the same time, just the tips, to have her suck out some last little squirts, which she didn't swallow, allowing the men to see the stuff dribble down her chin and neck instead. She knew that would thrill them. They moaned and they laughed. They slapped each other's backs. Then in just a few more seconds, all three of the men had collapsed to the floor around her and passed out. They dropped so quick it was like they all had strokes. The one underneath her was snoring already, while he still had his cock in her butt. Not hard no more, but still entirely implanted. He groaned when she lifted free of him—Marion groaned the same way, twisting it loose—and yet he didn't wake. His semen started streaming from her hole now that nothing was corking it, turning chilly on the back of her legs as soon as it emerged. Not a girl's favorite feeling. The jizz on her tits turned every bit as cold and icky, before the majority of it, the visible part, evaporated away. At least that only ever took a couple minutes. A coating remained, heavy-feeling on her skin, and with a strong aroma, if invisible except for specks of shininess under sunlight.

Remembering their faces when she made them come, that was the best part. The images to hang on to. She concentrated on those memories as she showered in the waterfall. The images were so vivid and so evocative, for a moment she considered masturbating again. She decided her cunt was too sore for that—she'd put it through too much that day. Rubbing it under the fall wouldn't soothe it. Just bound to leave it sorer.

It was only then that she realized her clothing wasn't where she left it lying on the rocks at the edge of the pool. Her pack, her weapons—all her things had vanished from the defile!

What the fuck? Who could have taken them? And why would they do that?

More importantly, what was she gonna do now? Without boots, it would be tough to get to her boat, using her original route. The ground in that direction was too jagged. It would mutilate her feet!

She would have to go back up the stairs to the temple. She would get the boys to help her. Or perhaps if they were still snoozing she could just snatch a shirt and a pair of their sandals from the piles they made, and then split again without having to explain anything.

Kind of a dick move. But it would spare her a lot of awkwardness and aggravation.

Then she heard a giggle. Someone rose up from behind a boulder on her right. She hadn't realized 'til that moment that it was separate from the wall of the defile behind it—assumed it was a portion of the wall that bulged out a bit. That was wrong. There was space behind there for someone to hide, and someone had been hiding there this whole time she was showering. For the second time or both times? She really hoped it was only during the second time. She really really hoped this person hadn't been on the scene to watch her finger herself earlier, and watch her come.

It was a woman, a bit younger and lighter-built than Marion, dressed like a hunter, dark jeans and a leather jacket that must be boiling her in this weather, and a black ballcap turned backwards. She had a crossbow aimed at Marion, and she was grinning. Marion recognized her, though it took her a few moments. She called herself Malice.

"The look on your face," Malice said, "Priceless."

"Where's my stuff?" Marion demanded, "What did you do with it all?"

"Got rid of it," was the reply, "You're not gonna get any of it back. Better just accept the fact, all right? I prefer you stay just like that. Naked and defenseless."

As if she had needed that fact spelled out for her. Graceless of the bitch to rub it in. "Why are you doing this? Is it just personal or is it somebody paying you?"

"Somebody's paying me. But of course it's personal too. You know that perfectly well."

It was true enough, what she'd said. Malice used to be the special executive assistant and bodyguard of a very rich, very dangerous businessman, who had also become one of Marion's archaeological rivals. That man had terminated Malice's employment, and it was unquestionably because of Marion that had happened. Malice had been in love with her former boss, despite what a vicious mean-spirited shit he always was. In all likelihood, she still carried the proverbial torch. Marion had utterly and irrevocably disgraced her in the man's eyes. She didn't regret doing it. As to why it happened, well ... that was a longish story.

Now Marion was at this crazy bitch's mercy.

"Who's your new employer? And how much they giving you? Bet I can top it."

Malice shrugged. "Yeah, I'm sure you could. But money's not gonna save your ass. Forget that idea."

"You gonna kill me right here? What are you waiting for? Pull the trigger."

"Don't think I won't, if I have to. But if you want to live a little longer—if you wanna meet my new boss—then put these on." She tossed over a pair of handcuffs. "Cuff yourself behind your back."

Marion thought it over, gnawing at her own bottom lip. "I'll cooperate if you let me have my clothing back."

"No. You'll cooperate because if you don't ..." and she lifted a long black cylinder from a sheath over her shoulder, with metal prongs sticking out the front end of it, "then I'm going to start jabbing those big slutty tits of yours with this electric cattleprod. How's that sound?"

Marion didn't respond. No point. The twisted bitch wasn't going to relent. She wanted to shame her. To subject her to humiliation in much the same way Marion had once willfully humiliated her. And at least for the moment, there was nothing Marion could do but comply with her commands.

So she put on the cuffs. After she had, Malice came around behind her to check on them, and tighten them. Severely.

"Christ. That's not necessary."

"Probably not. Fun, though."

Then she buckled a thick dog collar around Marion's throat, with a long chain leash.

Just as intended, that got to her. Worse than the cuffs, worse than her nudity. She found she wasn't able to pretend otherwise. She was shaking with fury, as the buckle snapped into place and her neck was squeezed by the itchy leather, and also she was shaking with dread. Her cheeks and forehead had turned scorching hot. Which meant she was blushing, and blushing bad. Red as a strawberry, for certain. That physical betrayal of her embarrassment—no way to hide it or disguise it—was almost more embarrassing than the rest of it. That nearly made fall further by starting to cry. She just barely held the tears back.

Malice laughed. "Feeling pretty self-conscious, aren't you? And right now it's just the two of us. Just imagine how you'll feel when we get to the boat. Not yours. I'm talking about the one I came on. It's a pretty big boat, Marion. Pretty big crew. They're gonna love seeing you like this. They're gonna go wild. You better start preparing yourself, best as you can. Now march! March in front of me!"

"Wh-where are we going?"

"Up out of the defile, same way you came in. We found your boat, you see. We anchored right by it. We've been following you discreetly for a considerable period. Don't dawdle now. Move that naked ass! Remember, I've got this cattleprod to hustle you along if you start taking too long. Don't test my patience."

"But look at the ground, all the gravel! I'm barefoot!"

"So what?"

"Are you kidding me? I can't walk on that shit!"

"It's not really as bad as you think. I'm sure you're pretty tootsies will handle it just fine. It's not very far we gotta go."

"Just let me have my boots back. Nothing else, just my boots. Come on! Please? Please! It's not like I won't still be naked and leashed like a dog! Just be practical for fuck's sake!"

"You need to guard your tone with me from now on, Marion." And she jabbed her bottom with the electrified stick.

"Ahhhoowwwaaahh! Jesus fucking Christ!" It hurt a hundred times worse than she'd expected. She nearly peed herself, and toppled to her knees.

"Now I hope we understand each other better." Malice tugged on the leash, forcing her to choke. "Get up. You want to get zapped again? Get your ass up now and start marching!"

With a hopeless whimper, Marion Glaive could only obey. From the very first step on the cruel gravel, she started to snivel like a child, and couldn't stop. Her pathetic outcries got louder and more desperate, step after step. "I can't do this! Please! Please listen! It hurts too much! It's cutting my feet! Please!"

Of course all she got was another zap from the wicked prod. "Haaahhuuh! Oh God. Dear God." That time she did wet herself a little. She wasn't sure if Malice saw it happen.

Just mere minutes ago, she'd been a goddess. She'd been experiencing the greatest sexual bliss anyone could imagine. And now ... What was she reduced to now?

-- To Be Continued in "Lost Treasure"--