The Jungle

You are walking through a lush, green forest. The pitter-patter of raindrops falling from the heavens taps playfully upon the dense foliage that surrounds you. All morning the air has hung heavy, weighing you down, but now the falling cleansing rains are cooling you. As you have been instructed, you are wearing adventure pants that fully protect your legs from the perilous plants and vicious bugs. On your top you have donned a white t-shirt under a short sleeve tracker's shirt. You have dispensed with a bra. After all, this is a vacation and the oppressive heat of the day encourages you to dress as lightly as possible.

As refreshing droplets speckle your face, you reflect upon your good fortune. You had only booked this vacation a week earlier and it is a trip you have always wanted to make. For years you had tried to persuade Bud to bring you here but he had always resisted. However, now that your divorce has been finalized, Bud is in your past. He can fuck his silicone-enhanced secretary to his heart's content and you can relish your freedom.

There is only thing that would make you happier than you feel at this moment. And that is Sex. The delicious give and take of satisfying sex. Celibacy does not suit you. It is true that there have been dates since your divorce. There has even been the consolation of fucking Mike, Bud's best friend. But, as you lay beneath him, winding your legs around his flanks, urging him into you harder and relishing the pleasure of a man between your thighs again, you opened your eyes and saw him intent, not upon you, but upon himself in the wall length mirror of your bedroom, admiring his technique and the arcing movement of his own body. That is when you decided you needed to get away.

And here you are. You tell yourself that you have come for the history of the region, for the enjoyment of nature in all its primitive beauty, for the satisfaction derived from physical exertion; but, admit it, you also hoped that you might be lucky: that there might be an eligible man in your group and that you might even get laid. Alas, the other dozen or so travelers are in couples. Only Manon, the local guide is single and he must be ten years younger than you. Besides he speaks no English and barely knows how to use a knife and fork. Still, he is swarthily handsome, with piercingly dark eyes, and moves as gracefully as any beast of the jungle. And he does seem to like you. You have noticed how when the route is clear, he will fall back and walk beside you, how he clears the large leathery fronds from your path, how at the evening campfire he sits next to you, accidentally brushing against your thigh. At last you understand that this is the real reason you have dispensed with your bra: so that when the heat of the day surrenders to the afternoon rains and your t-shirt clings to your still slim body, Manon can admire your full, firm breasts and your temptingly taut nipples dimpling the cotton.

This is the fifth day of your vacation. Ahead of you, Manon effortlessly wields his machete, cutting a swathe through the jungle as he has done so many times before, and his father before him. Behind him, you all walk in single file. Anxious not to be left behind, you have chosen a position in the middle of this group. The chatter of voices around you fills the air, as excitedly you point to exotically hued birds in the towering trees and listen keenly to the myriad sounds of strange creatures, high and low. Deeper and deeper you penetrate the forest. Manon has promised you, in halting Spanish, that he will lead you to an old ruin where the natives of long ago worshipped the blood gods and made their offerings. For reasons that you cannot explain, even to yourself, the bloodthirsty history of the site stirs some primal bloodlust in you. You imagine Manon, dripping with sweat, dirt and blood, laying you across the temple's stone altar, ripping your clothes from you as you offer yourself to him in sacrificial surrender.

But you are not there yet. The dense jungles have swallowed the temple centuries ago when Inca society fell prey to invaders. Meanwhile, the rain falls upon your face and you lift your head back and greet the cool, fat drops of water that splash upon your cheeks.

Up ahead, in the distance, you see a clearing and the faint outline of a tall stone temple with tiered sides. Manon turns around to face you all. You bunch together to listen to what he has to say. His discourse is conducted in gestures and broken Spanish. Imelda, a small Mexican woman, translates as best she can. But you understand the gist. It is very important not to disturb the ruins and to respect the old temple. He tells you that some of the locals resent outsiders coming to this place. He turns to lead you out of the jungle into the clearing. As he turns, there is shriek from one of the women in your group. You scan the direction in which she is facing and almost faint. Half a dozen natives are charging towards you, waving machetes above their heads.

There is panic and chaos. Your heart is pounding in your chest as your eyes dart back and forth. You look to Manon for help. But he is only grinning. To your astonishment, he grabs one of the husbands and swings his machete. The blade bites deeply into the man's thigh and he cries out in bewildered pain. A gush of crimson blood pours from his leg. You scatter, all of you, in different directions. Get away, you tell yourself. Away! And so you flee along an obscured path to your left and angle your way parallel to the clearing. As you glance back, you can see that the attackers are ignoring the women and chasing their husbands.

You catch a glimpse of one older man stumbling and, as he lies prostrate, a raised blade swings hard and falls upon him. You feel your gut wrench in terror and you sprint as fast as you can. Get away! Your ears pulse with the pounding of your heart. The only other sound is of the plants slapping against your pant legs as you crash through the undergrowth.

Behind you come the screams of women, hideous shrieks that fill your ears. But the sound fades as you struggle along the leaf-laden path. Coming to the clearing from another side, your eyes are greeted with the glare of the raw-red sun, no longer shielded by the jungle trees. You don't halt but dash madly for the edge of the temple and briefly look back. There is no one and you feel a moment of relief. You charge across the open space to the temple faster than you have ever run before. Your lungs burn from the effort and the hot, choking air.

Sweat pours from you and your t-shirt is soaked as you lean against the temple wall for a brief rest. Quickly you make your way to the corner of the temple to hide yourself from view. Once there, you turn around and peek back cautiously. To your horror, you see the six men emerge from the jungle, led by Manon. In front of them are the other women from the group. You count four of them and two men. The men are bloodied and limping.

The captors are yelling at the terrified group and urging them on to the temple. One man falls, holding his neck, which is bleeding. An attacker swears at the man and swings his blade and the man lies still. The women are screaming helplessly but start jogging to the temple and disappear through an opening into a dark tunnel. You hold your head in your hands and the sickening shock hits you. But you cannot stay here. You have to know what is happening to your companions. You have to help if you can. To your right you see stairs that ascend the outer wall of the temple.

You claw your way up them, hoping to find some way into the temple from where you will have a vantage point. You reach a mid level tier that levels out and find an entrance to another, higher tunnel. Slowly you creep along the tunnel. At first you can see nothing but the cool air mixes with your sweaty t-shirt and it feels good. Your skin has goose bumps and your nipples press hard against your sodden t-shirt. At the end of the tunnel is a balcony that overlooks the center of the temple. A hole off to one side towards the top of the chamber admits a shaft of sunlight. Another shaft of light comes through a portal opposite and the two meet, casting a spotlight in the chamber below.

The floor is made of dirt. The walls of the chamber are wet with moisture and moss. Vines, thick and fibrous, hang down from the portals above. In the middle of the temple chamber is a stone platform that is three steps high, and about 40 feet long by 20 feet wide. At the center of this rectangular slab of granite is a stone circle that is about four feet high and rests on two thin pillars. You crouch low to the ground and peer down to find out what is happening. As the group clatters across the chamber, their footsteps echo around the vast space. So do the sobs of the women, the groans of the wounded man, and the bullying chatter of their attackers. The men herd the group up to the platform at the center of the chamber. Some of the women are holding each other's hands for comfort. The captors are shouting and snarling angrily, but none in the group knows what they are saying.

The sole surviving male from your group, an older man who is called Alan, is pulled away from the women and shoved around by his captors until he collapses to the ground, weak from his ordeal and wounds. The natives begin to kick the fallen man repeatedly until his body is nothing more than a moaning wreck and bloodied mess. The women are howling with shocked outrage at the violence playing out before them and are paralyzed with fear. You cover your mouth to stifle your own cries of anguish at the spectacle that is unfolding before you. Manon walks away from the melee and approaches the women menacingly. As he crosses before the pillars of stone, he falls to one knee and bows his head in reverence. Then he counts the women, pushing them about as if to see whether there are any others hidden behind them. He shouts to the others but they only shrug. Manon is angry and, calling one of his fellows to him, swipes his face with the back of his hand.

You wonder what can have caused his displeasure. Then, you realize that it is you. That Manon wants you as his special prize. A shudder runs down your spine at the thought of what he will do to you if he captures you.

Meanwhile, at Manon's command, one of his gang seizes a blonde haired woman called Alice. Only fifteen minutes before you and she were studying rainbow-colored butterflies, delighting in their beauty. Now she is being dragged by the wrist to the stone pillar. Her captor presses her head through the stone hole at the top of the pillars; an accomplice walks around in front of the woman and takes her right wrist. He ties it to an iron ring on the side of the stone so that it is tethered at head height. He then grasps her other wrist and ties it likewise on the other side. Alice is bent over and her bottom is thrust out behind. She is sobbing uncontrollably at the horror of her plight. Now we are all weeping quietly, fearful that we shall draw attention to ourselves. I look over to the other women and I know that we all have the same shameful thought: if they must take someone else, please let it be she or she, but don't let it be I. Meanwhile Alice's tormentor is roughly groping her shapely, voluptuous body, his hands now roaming over her ample breasts, yanking her flowing, honey hair. His partner rips open Alice's t-shirt and her ample, copper-nippled breasts tumble out. The two men laugh contentedly and then again, but more so, as a long-bladed knife rips through her pants and strips her to her panties.

The man behind Alice presses his hips against her bottom and reaches around to feel her breasts. The woman sobs, but can do nothing. Manon hands the man a machete. He takes it in his hand casually and steps away from her. She cannot see what is happening...she cannot see the blade in his hand. The other women are crying out in terror...and Alice screams out of fear of the unknown and struggles bravely against her bindings. The man raises the machete, swings it like a bat and the flat face of the blade slams against Alice's ass. The loud slap resounds throughout the chamber and the woman's neck is thrown hard against the stone circle. She moans in abject pain.

The natives cheer enthusiastically and Alice's assailant pulls his arm back and another blow lands on the woman's backside. Red welts blossom on her pale, plump skin. Lash after lash falls upon the woman until her ass is bleeding and a thin trickle of scarlet stains her legs. She can no longer stand. Only her neck and wrist bindings hold her to the stone. A third man unties the spent woman and drags her back to the rest of the group and dumps her on the stone floor. The others try to comfort her as best they can but she lies in a half stupor.

Now a native eyes a brown haired woman, whom I think is called Gemma, with small breasts and takes her from the group as if he is pulling a chicken from a coop. She cries out startled and tries vainly to resist. The man swears at her and punches her in the stomach. The air is sucked from her and she slumps into his arms. He half-drags her to the stone pillars and dumps her before the circle. Then he binds her wrists to the pillars using the same two irons hooks that held Alice.

Gemma has her hands tied above her and she is slumped over with her back to the pillars and her legs before her. The native drops his pants. Beneath he is naked and his semi-erect member flops out as he eyes the woman before him. She looks up at him and her senses begin to return. Though horrified, she knows what might happen to her. So she tries to avoid looking at the man in front of her. The man yells at her and slaps her across the face and blood trickles down the corner of her mouth. The man tears off her shirt and exposes her small breasts. He falls to his knees and strokes himself before her until he is hard. He presses his cock up to her mouth.

She refuses to look at him. He slaps her again. Under his blows her head bounces back and forth like a ping-pong ball, her shoulder length hair tossing about. He grips her by the back of the head and presses her head down on his cock. She reluctantly opens her mouth and gags as his cock slides past her unwilling lips. She lets out a small, fearful sigh as his rod slides into her mouth further, further until it her throat feels him filling her. She gags and pulls back and spit stipples his swollen cock, exciting him still more, so that he forces it back into her.

For what seems an age, he torments her with his cock, thrusting it into her gaping mouth, then wiping it across her face, and then pushing her mouth onto his balls, before penetrating the depths of her throat once more. Suddenly the man rips his cock out of her mouth. Gemma slumps back against the pillar and her head subsides in sick defeat. The man is not done. He tries to take her by the hips to turn her over. She realizes what is happening and starts to kick her feet with little success. He pulls his arm back and punches her hard in the chest and it take the fight out of her. He cruelly turns her body and she screams as the knots tear into her wrists. Then he spreads her legs and wiggles his way between her thighs.

His member is cruelly large and presses up against her dry slit. The spit from her own mouth is used to lube her cunt. He slaps his cock head against her slit and rubs it up and down. Her body shudders in pain and shock as he enters her from behind. She is groaning in pain and in some half conscious state from the beating that she has taken. His hips slam into her backside and her head is bounced into the base of the pillars. He fucks like a mad animal and her contorted body is rocked like a rag doll, helpless to the assault upon her. He grabs her hips firmly and cries out as his seed is blasted deeply into her.

Below you have seen the last man kicked to a stupor, Alice ruthlessly beaten and Gemma raped. Now the captors are huddled off to the side, talking amongst themselves. From time to time they glance over to the terrified women. You peer over the edge of the balcony to gaze below, scared that they might see you. As you peer down, a voice shouts out. You have been spotted. You duck down with your heart in your throat. You hear the sound of two men running down the corridor. Three others are shouting at the women. Your eyes dart left and right to find some hope of escape. You stand up and run to your left around the terrace that overlooks the lower level. From behind you the men are closer. Their echoing footsteps and shouts bounce off the temple walls.

You hear the click of a rifle being cocked. On the other side of the terrace is another corridor. You know that it leads outside. Your feet fly as fast as you can make them move. You see the light of day outside. As you burst out of the corridor and into the light you catch yourself from tumbling over the edge and down the stone steps. You turn around and your heart leaps out of your chest. The two men with rifles are bolting towards you. You scream and run to the left, to you know not where.

You turn the corner and sprint straight ahead. More shouts from behind you. The crack of a rifle sounds and you hear something whiz by your head. You're almost to the next corner. Another crack and the pop of a bullet strike the stone next to you. You push harder and make the corner. As you turn the corner a sharp pain strikes you in the gut. The other man is there with his rifle and has used the butt to strike you squarely. You are knocked off your feet. Your head strikes the stone walkway and your body collapses with a thud. You can only gasp for air as you clutch your abdomen. The pain smothers you, conquering every muscle and bone in your sweating body.

Two men take you by the arms and you are dragged roughly down the stone steps.... your legs are like rubber.... bouncing painfully off the stone. You are taken to the main floor of the chamber. The other women see you and fear for you. All of the men are very angry and their anger is directly aimed at you. Manon snaps at the two men and they waste no time dragging you to the stone pillars. Your head is thrust through the hole and your wrists are bound. The women are screaming like crazed beasts, not knowing what will befall you and them. The two men who had chased you take two coils of rope and head out of the chamber. There you stand, trussed and helpless in the spotlight shining from above.

You are a mere actor in a sick play and you fear that the stage has been set for your death scene. You have gained your breath back and some of your strength. You cannot see what is happening behind you, but you can look up a little and see that one of the two men is tying a rope on one side of the upper level terrace and it is being stretched to the other side, a single rope spanning both sides, right above you. You feel hands on your hips roughly grabbing you; you try to struggle, wiggling your wrist and your legs, shifting in some vain attempt to move away from your molester. The hands run up your front and under your dirty and sweaty t-shirt.

Two hands take your breasts and play with your nipples. You grunt your displeasure but to no purpose. You eyes widen as you hear a large knife being unsheathed. Cold steel presses up against your abdomen and your breath is held in fear. The blade slides up slowly and cuts at your t-shirt. Now you are topless. The blade slides between your legs, cruelly teasing your crotch as its owner's cock presses against your bottom. You are at Manon's mercy as his cock stiffens against your buttocks.

You cannot bear to imagine what torments are in store for you. All you long for is survival as you pray for mercy to a God you have long neglected. The blade glides down your legs to your ankles and starts to cut away at your pants. You struggle once more, but your fear of being cut persuades you to offer only token resistance. There you are.... topless and wearing only panties. But there is worse, much worse. In startled horror you gape as one end of a rope flops in front of you. You crane your neck and see that it is suspended from a tree.