A New Jungle Goddess

And then Sash-Tat took the jug from her. He snatched it out of her hands. He was the only man in the clearing who hadn't hunkered down on all fours. He stayed upright, and he'd also kept his distance until then. Somehow she hadn't realized until that moment. Well, hey, all her attention had been on the other guys crawling in front of her. She didn't notice Sash-Tat hadn't joined in, until he finally did. But on different terms. His own.

"The spirits of the trees do not rule us," he said, "and the jungle, as a whole, it is no friend of ours. It never has been and never shall be. The jungle is our adversary. It tries to kill us and it wants to consume us, every single day and every single night."

Quinn wasn't sure how to respond to any of this. His tone wasn't angry or threatening, thankfully. He seemed puzzled, more than anything else. Perhaps wistful.

"The jungle wants peace," she said, "That is all I know. The spirits sent me to call for peace. Will you not accept the Gift?"

"Would you?" he countered. Then he emptied the rest of the magic beer over her head. Drenching her all the way down to her tiptoes. The stuff stuck to her like oil, only sliding off her very slowly and reluctantly. Stranger still, she felt it fizzling against her skin. The fumes did the same inside her nose.

She cried out. She squealed, in fact, from sheer surprise and shock. She was partly blinded until she blinked the stuff clear, and she'd been nearly knocked over, that initial moment, by the forceful weight of the downpour. The chief caught hold of her shoulders with both his hands and it was only that which kept her from losing her balance. Only his grip. Then he leaned in and began kissing her. He started before she could see. A very fierce kiss, and very aggressive.

Quinn didn't resist it. She kissed him back. It was instinct, or reflex. She didn't think it over. She didn't weigh the pros and cons.

Other men were kissing her legs—her calves—her ankles—her feet. It was all the men that she hadn't got to pour the magic beer on. They were licking it off her skin, instead, or sucking it, some of them, applying more insistent and sustained pressure with their lips.

At least, that was all they seemed to want when they first started. Their taste of redemption, their chance of salvation. Just their due. Maybe.

The motivation quickly shifted. And other men got involved—men that already got the baptism. They wanted more. And they wanted other things from her. They kept coming, crawling over each other to get at her. Their mouths and their hands reached higher and higher. Probing, pressing, stroking, pinching. Nipping, nibbling, licking, sucking. Already they'd cleared most of the oily intoxicant from her skin. Nevertheless, they persisted.

Her knees, front and back—her thighs, the same—

Her hips—

Her muscular belly—its flexing ridges—her navel, contracting defensively—

God, she'd grown so sensitive all over ... A thousand times more than normal ... God oh God ... She couldn't keep still and she couldn't keep quiet, except the chief's kissing blocked and suppressed her gasps and grunts and whines and whimpers.

Now, the others had made it up across the small of her back—climbing the bumps of her spine as others climbed the bumps of her ribs—next, her shoulder blades were traced and trickled and kissed—

From there, the bottom rims of her breasts—and higher, higher—still the hands and lips strove higher. Strove for more! While all along, Sash-Tat was holding her suspended in position with his powerful hands clamped over her shoulders, and his equally powerful mouth clamped over hers. Their tongues strained together like wrestlers, and of course at the same time they shared each other's breath.

They didn't close their eyes as they kissed. They stared at each other without blinking, and their stares were every bit as fierce and aggressive as their kissing ... His gaze filled her vision. It was like staring into a stormy sky, and the storm was staring back at her. A sense of vastness, a sense of threat. But wondrous, even so. She was utterly captivated by his eyes, losing herself in them. Did he feel the same? Was he losing himself in hers? He must!

Within her depths, her innermost core, the fundamental fiber of her being, Quinn felt a quickening, a kindling. A great giddy tension. A howling hollow hunger.

Not now, she thought, not here. Not like this. But how could she shut it off? She couldn't, of course.

This wasn't why I came here. This wasn't why I was chosen! This isn't what was supposed to happen!

Quinn's skirt had been taken from her almost without her noticing, and then her top was snatched away. She felt that happen and it was an unwelcome shock. It froze her. She didn't scream or struggle for almost a full minute, too overwhelmed to do anything at all. This had become too much to process ... She was entirely naked, and countless hands were caressing her all over, and countless lips, and countless tongues.

It should have been horrifying, perhaps. And perhaps it was—but the horror was so sudden and so massive that at first she couldn't express it or act on it. She couldn't comprehend it for what it was. She let the men keep doing what they were doing. Like she didn't mind, or like she didn't notice it. Like all of this was happening to somebody else, far away.

When she finally did jolt back to her senses—when she finally realized the complete and awful enormity of what was happening, only then did she act as she should have. Only then did she try to retreat and resist.

She pulled away from Sash-Tat's kiss and she pulled backward from his hands. But when she did that, she did not escape all the other hands and all the other mouths upon her bare body. All she did was tip herself over backward off her feet, deeper into their clutches.

"Wait!" she cried, "Stop! Let go of me! Get away from me! I am the Jungle Goddess! Listen to me! Let me go!"

The men didn't listen. She strained and she wriggled, but she couldn't wrest loose. There was no escape. No chance at all, by that point. They clung to her limbs and they clung to her hair. They held her wrists and they held her ankles. They held her knees and they held her elbows. They stretched her horizontally between them, delighting in the display of her nakedness, delighting in their power and possession of her. They didn't lower her all the way to the ground. They kept her suspended roughly at waist level, facing upward, facing the cloudless, blazing blue sky.

"Let me go! Let me go! You can't do this to me! You can't do this!"

But why couldn't they? What was going to stop them?

Their dark bodies loomed on every side of her, and they'd become gigantic and frightening as mountains, as monsters. She couldn't see their faces in detail anymore--all were shadowed by the bright sun behind them. And also, very soon, their cocks emerged and further obscured her view. They filled her vision. They overwhelmed her imagination.

Huge, dark, rampant cocks, projecting over her belly and her thighs, her breasts and her chin and her cheeks and her forehead. Countless cocks, hovering right above her, touching her all over, nudging her skin everywhere with torturous, faintly stinging heat, while smearing dollops of slime upon her from their tips each and every time they did. More cocks than she'd ever seen or ever imagined. All of them the same--more huge and horrifying than any human cock could possibly be. Yet there they were. She saw what she saw. No doubt her fear made her see them much bigger and much more fearsome than they actually were. It was all perfectly, undeniably real for her, in any case. She saw what she saw—she felt what she felt.

"Don't do this to me! You mustn't do this to me! I was sent by the tree spirits! I wasn't chosen for this! You're ruining it! You will ruin everything! Please listen to me! Please listen! Let me go! Please stop and let me go! Or you'll ruin everything!"

They wouldn't listen. They wouldn't stop.

"Don't hurt me! Please don't hurt me! I came to bring peace! To bring peace! You're gonna hurt me! You're gonna kill me! Please don't! Please just listen! Please!"

They put their cocks into her. She couldn't fight them off. She couldn't fight them at all. "God! Oh God! My God! God!" They filled her mouth and they filled her pussy. Over and over. They filled her mouth and her pussy with cocks and then they filled her mouth and her pussy with semen. As soon as one got done, another took its place. Sometimes a couple, if they could both manage to fit. And sometimes, somehow, they did. At least for short periods.

And so the warriors fucked her, all of them. They fucked her and it must be admitted, they weren't very nice about it once they got cooking. They weren't cautious with her, oh no. The warriors fucked her brutally. They gangbanged the so-called Jungle Goddess. Quinn herself, as they saw it, was the Gift she had offered to them, not the sacred beer. They accepted her Gift. They enjoyed it to the full. They indulged themselves without restraint.

Quinn had braced herself for pain, for agony. For unspeakable suffering. She had expected to be destroyed, mutilated, murdered. Yet it wasn't like that. It didn't feel anything at all like she'd expected.

Which was not to say it went easily for her. It was all too intense, too extreme. Too embarrassing. Too twisted and unfair and otherworldly to comprehend. How could this be real? It couldn't be! It was! It couldn't be! It was! IT WAS!

"Ugghhn! Ugghhuunn! Uggrrhh! Urruugghh!"

She would have screamed much louder, much worse, if they'd let her. They kept all her outcries muffled, stifled---her mouth was always plugged.

As good looking a girl as Quinn was and had always been, she never had very much sex. Much less than most folks would assume from looking at her. It wasn't that she was indifferent to that kind of thing, but her experiences had never been very great. The guys she'd felt the most excited about and the most drawn to had always let her down in that department, drastically lowering her expectations across the board. Sometimes she watched a lot of pretty extreme porn, and that was usually the only time she got to come properly, doing it to herself. When she was in that sort of mood, she didn't want the stuff she made use of to be at all realistic. Nothing like she would actually wanna do with anybody—that level of extremism and absurdity was a key part of the appeal. Possibly, this background, her occasional taste for that form of escapism, assisted her with the warriors, wild and crazy as things got. It helped her to "play along". To just "roll with it." Like it was all just another of those bullshit videos, where the nastiness and insanity was deliberate—the whole point.

On and on it went, like it would never end. How many of them had come? How many cocks had erupted inside her or over her face or over her belly or over her breasts? How many times had they made her come, in turn? How could they have done that to her? But they had, hadn't they? No, never, surely not, not her, not like this. But yes! Yes! Of course they had! Countless times! Better than her vibrator ever had when she watched those crummy videos! These men's cocks did what cocks were supposed to do. For the very first time in real life, cocks were giving her body the kind of extreme pleasure they were meant to and never had before. Finally! God oh God oh God ... Quinn thought they would fuck her forever. They would only stop fucking her if they fucked her to death.

She was sure they would. And what a way to go. She was almost reconciled to it, and almost proud of herself. But inside her head she wasn't consistent—there were moments or periods of time she felt angry, furious! And other periods she felt ashamed. How could her life end like this, on the opposite side of the planet from where she was born? As if all her greatest aspirations had been a trick or a setup, deliberately leading her to her own ruin and disgrace.

I am going to die! They are going to kill me! And she couldn't even scream because they wouldn't let her. The only sounds she could produce were choked grunts and groans. "Urrghh! Urrggh! Ugghhrrnn! Uhhughh!" They were fucking her to death!

Yet it never happened. She kept thinking it was bound to. She kept thinking she'd reached her ultimate limit and the end was nigh ... But then it still wouldn't happen. The fucking—the gangbang, to be more accurate--would continue, and so would she.

When do I pass out? If it never happens, when do I go insane instead? When do I stop caring this is happening to me? When do I just stop paying attention? When do I lose the capacity? When does all of this, one way or another, finally just stop?

When she finally got there, of course, she didn't notice. It's always like that when consciousness slides away. It does it sneaky. It's a conjuring trick. No matter how tired you are, no matter how much you might desire it, you never realize when you fall asleep—if you did, after all, if you could, you'd still be awake.

5.

She came to in the middle of the night, all alone in the clearing. Curled up on her side in the center of a large circle of trampled, flattened grass. Her hair and her whole naked body reeked of grass juice almost as much as it did of sex. Of semen.

She wasn't chilly. No sir. It was still as baking hot and humid as the height of the day had been. Hell, it almost seemed worse.

Quinn spotted where her clothes had been left on the ground as soon as she stood up. She retrieved the crumpled things, shook them out and put them back on, since she had nothing else better available. Then, for essentially the same reason, she made her way back to Novobbo's hut.

It was a somewhat lengthy hike. She didn't cry or cuss or anything like that. Her mind, thankfully, blessedly. stayed pretty quiet as she trudged along. Blanked out. No questions or recriminations. No worries or woes. All those things, all that stuff, would hit her later, and hit her hard when they did. They would run her through the proverbial wringer, obviously. At that time, for whatever reason, they seemed to hold themselves off.

Dazed as she was, about halfway to her goal she stumbled right into the middle of a battle between a dozen or so warriors. They all had their demonic masks back on, and were clobbering each other enthusiastically with big clubs. A few men were down, bleeding a lot. Gold snakes outnumbered the red snakes. They were trying to run, and the gold snakes weren't letting them. They had the other guys surrounded and intended to finish them off. They were hooting and snickering with juvenile anticipation.

"What the fuck is this?" Quinn exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. "We just made peace, didn't we? The whole huge ritual—what the fuck was it all for, if you're gonna go right back to this horseshit!" She was talking in English, not that it made much difference to the men. They must have got the gist of her complaints. "Jesus Christ! I just made a sacrifice of myself! Didn't I? Isn't that what happened? Isn't that what it was all for?" This explanation--or justification—had only just that second occurred to her consciously as she was saying these things. "I sacrificed everything for you fuckers! Everything! For peace!" She made this declaration as if she'd done it knowingly and deliberately, because of course it was far easier to accept if she could make herself believe that. "And this is what I get? You don't even hold off a single night? I've known some selfish, childish pricks in my day, but you guys—well, sheesh. You seriously raise the bar, that's all I gotta say. Or rather, you lower it. You have lowered it to whole new appalling depths of sheer shittiness. It's a good thing none of you guys own mirrors in your huts, because I don't how you'd be able to face yourselves in them."

The masked warriors lowered their weapons and exchanged glances. You couldn't tell for certain, thanks to the masks, but Quinn thought the looks seemed sheepish. Embarrassed. The men squirmed and shuffled their feet a little.

"Am I getting through to you? Am I making a damn bit of difference? Well?"

The gold snakes let the red snakes depart, carrying away their wounded.

"Very good," Quinn said, with a firm nod, "Now I suppose you boys better head on home. Give your moms a hug, or your wives, if you have wives."

She resumed her trek to Novobbo's hut. It was a few minutes before she realized the gold snakes were dogging her heels.

Quinn whirled to confront them. "What is it? What do you want now?"

They all lowered their loincloths and waggled erections at her. They didn't take off their war masks.

"Are you kidding me?" Strangely, she felt less offended or appalled than she should have. There was, to a degree, a slightly amusing and even refreshing honesty to these guys in that particular moment, compared to the men back home. To a point this is changing, thanks to social media and so-called hookup culture. Still most of us, most of the time, lie our asses off about what we want and what we don't. We fake each other out, pretending we're more interested than are, or less. It does so much damage.

With guys like the gold snakes, Quinn knew exactly where she stood. No pretenses.

She shook her head at them and she stuck her tongue out. "No way! Never again, boys! The sacrifice was a one-time thing, understand? I never would have participated at all if I knew things were gonna go that direction. You guys keep away from me! Do you hear? I'm going home and so are you! Leave me be!"

They wouldn't. Quinn scuffed dirt at them with her foot, and then she shook her fist at them. They just kept right on shaking their dripping dicks at her. Giggling, too, and breathing hard. Panting like animals, which is exactly what they were.

Quinn tried to run. Probably a mistake. They chased her down, and it didn't take them long. Real soon they had pinned her down helpless, and then they stripped off her bikini.

"Get your hands off me! Don't you dare do this to me again! I won't let you! I won't stand for it! I won't put up with this! Not again! I'm too damn tired and too damn sore! I refuse! I refuse!"

She kept refusing 'til they were done with her, for all the difference it made. Which was none. It didn't go as long as the last time, thankfully, since there weren't as many. It did go on quite a while, even so.

Of course in the first few moments when they grabbed her it was very scary and humiliating and horrible. But it didn't stay that way, somehow. Not completely. It changed—they managed to change how it was for her, so it didn't turn out as dreadful as one would expect. They didn't just ravage her—they won her over, first. They seduced her. They took their time.

Not to say the greedy bastards didn't fuck the living shit out of her. Just that they didn't hurry into the nitty-gritty. They weren't as rough as she expected, not 'til toward the very end when it didn't matter much any longer. The whole group spent a lot of time at the beginning just toying and tickling her, before they brought their cocks to bear and things got intense. When that happened, she was ready for it. Still very embarrassed, and yet even so she was more than ready, to be honest. They'd successfully stirred her up in spite of her resistance and fury and self-disgust. The bastards knew all the right places to touch, all the weak spots, and all the right ways to touch them. They turned her own nervous system against her, playing it like a musical instrument. Deeply, desperately aggravating and unfair.

"My God! This is crazy! This is so unfair! I refuse to let you do this to me! I refuse! I refuse! This is crazy and this is ... unfair and I ... and I ... just ... refuse! Stop that! Just stop! Stop fucking doing that! I can't bear it! Not that spot! I fucking hate you! I hate you all! My God! God! GAAHHUUGGHH!"