Green Hell


"You really don't need your clothing anymore, Mrs. Clayton. Why don't you take everything off?"

My wife's huge brown, tear-filled, eyes met my own. She gazed at our tormentor and blanched. With tears in her eyes, she reached for the buttons of her blouse ...

This all started as a dream assignment. My wife, Min-soo received a commission from one of the big cable travel networks to investigate a report of an Incan temple well off their recorded historical range. Deep in the jungle north of the Orinoco River, the preliminary report seemed quite promising. The jungle was too thick for a normal area survey so Min-Soo's company called in a favor and got an infrared survey from an orbiting NASA satellite. The company could not afford to have more than a few scans made, but the pictures revealed enough detail to deduce that SOMETHING was under all that foliage. The geometric shapes COULD have been natural features, but that seemed unlikely.

For Min-Soo's company, it was an exclusive, they could be on the ground of a major archeological find before even the first scientist had turned over the first spade of dirt. The implications were enormous. How you have liked to know about Tutankhamen's tomb BEFORE Howard Carter. Imagine being the first ones to photograph Machu- Picchu! It promised to be a very lucrative find and was sure to garner tremendous ratings. In short they needed my wife's skills with the camera. Like many of her other ventures, the cable overlords would send me along to rough edit the film and construct a narrative to go along with it.

It was my editing abilities that had first brought Min-Soo and myself together. I had been exiled to South Korea by my old production company because I had screwed up royally before the big boss in New York. It was either take this assignment or quit. I wanted to prove that I was made of sterner stuff so I decided to gut it out. The work turned out to be relatively easy and I burned through it quickly. With little to fill my hours, I did things like freelance editing for local pornographic film productions and a bit of the same for local and international news organizations in Seoul. It was scut work, but at least it was interesting.

And then all hell broke lose. There was a political crisis in South Korea. The president had been caught doing things a head of state simply should not be doing. His government was in danger of failing and on top of that the North Koreans were rattling sabers at the same time the American forces had a huge black eye when several paratroopers got caught with some local school girls who may or may not have been underage.

Every sort of protest filled the streets. Both Koreas were on the nightly news around the globe and, in the midst of all this, Min-Soo stormed into my office, in desperate need of an editor for the exclusive she had just scored. What I remember most of all was the big camera on her slender shoulder while she was yelling, in fine English, "Get me an editor, NOW!"

I was instantly smitten. Even amongst the lovelies of the Korean Peninsula, she stood out like a laser in a fog. Her luminous ebon hair fell past her shoulders, her brown eyes were large and shining, I swear her face walked out of a fashion ad. Her large perky breasts pushed at the fabric of her designer blouse, The rest of her was just as fine.

Naively, I tried to be gallant. Min-Soo cut me down to size immediately. "I need a professional, jerk! If you can't focus on the job, find me someone who can!" she stated in the "take no prisoners" style I have since come to adore.

Hastily, I apologized and took a look at her material she had. It was really, really good. After only a short time in the editing booth, we discovered that we had an instant and intense rapport. We brought out the best in each other. Min-Soo's report won an award locally and was even nominated internationally. Almost immediately Min-Soo decided that I was the only editor for her. We became a well-oiled machine and it wasn't long before we ended up in each other's arms and then in each other's beds. When my penance was over and I was called back to New York, Min-Soo decided that she just could not let six foot, slightly gawky, me get away from her. The last five years have been the happiest of my life.

We knew that we wanted to work together and both of us had a lust for travel. Once we were back in the Big Apple, we through our lot in with the channel for travelers. Min-Soo liked my editing on the fly and insisted that we do field work together. At first the network was skeptical but they could not argue with the results. Min-Soo regularly was nominated for some major awards. It was only a matter of time until she brought home some major bacon. The judges just had to be convinced that she was not just a flash in the pan, a few more seasons and she would be in the awards circle on a regular basis. The assignment in the Venezuelan jungle would take us to places we had never visited before. We were really looking forward to it.

Getting to the jungle was not the problem. Getting to the site of the ruins was the problem. We knew what the coordinates were according to the GPS but penetrating the jungle would be difficult. Our cable company, like most big corporations, could nickel and dime with the best of them. In case this turned out to be a dry hole, the bean counters did not want us spending more money than necessary. Aside from springing for a local guide, they paid for only me, Min-Soo, and Jack Frear. Jack, five six if he was an inch, was an expert in Incan culture, he would know if we had hit paydirt. Jack had two distinct advantages, he was young and, while known in his field, was not a star. Hungry for a big breakthrough, he agreed to keep his silence in exchange for first access to the site.

Jack was a nice guy, but real quiet. Min-Soo and I both felt that we could work very well with him. The lure of a potentially history-making discovery united the three of us. We all wanted to do the best job possible. Jack had put himself through college as a chef and delighted in doing the heavy lifting and all of the cooking. He was handsome, I guess, but not my wife's type at all. He seemed to like Min-Soo but was clearly not attracted to her. That made me feel better about the close quarters, jungle life was sure to generate. I'm not the jealous type but why tempt fate?

Jack, Min-Soo and myself, got all our shots and did as much homework as we could. We had to keep everything out of the public eye, which made sense even if it did make our job more difficult.

"If it turns out to be what we think it is, we want to stay under the radar until our special airs. After that..." was the best we could get out of our weasel of a boss. Why does EVERY media company in the world have the same joker in the big chair? How does any creativity get past a single one of these dullards? Our pointy-headed boss also insisted we bring minimal supplies. That had me grumbling, but Min-Soo calmed me down. "Look on the bright side, Chuck, that means I'll be able to bring fewer clothes with me which means I will be wearing less!"

She gave me a conspiratorial wink and fell into my embrace. We fit together so marvelously. Instantly my mind filled with the glory that is naked Min-Soo, long dancer's legs, Her thick black bush, flat tummy, sexy navel, and wondrous tits. To say that I am blessed is an understatement. I don't quite understand why my wife is as much into me as I am into her, all I know is that I am truly grateful for her love.

Our flight to Caracas passed through a series of severe thunderstorms. I'm not superstitious, but if you were looking for the first bad omen of our trip, any one of those storms would be your first pick. I had NEVER been airsick before the roller coaster flight I thought would never end. A week later we were in Puerto Ayacucho, the end of the line for river traffic. From here on it was travel by canoe and foot. Our local guide, Dave Saunders and a team of natives clad in shorts and tee shirts, were waiting for us. I'm not sure what I expected, certainly not a six and a half foot tall musclebound giant with reddish blonde hair and a deep jungle tan. My first thought was that he was the spitting image of Doc Savage, whose pulp novels I had devoured as a kid. Right away I did not like the way he eyed Min-Soo. I think he managed to conceal his obvious lust from my wife and Jack, but not me. I went on high alert.

To my chagrin, Min-Soo dubbed him "charming" and began to share far more about herself than I thought wise. In a private moment, I told Min-Soo that I did not trust this guy and that she should watch herself around him. I guess I laid it on too thickly because my wife took it the decidedly wrong way, "Jealousy does NOT become you, Chuck. The simple fact that a man finds me attractive and enjoys chatting with me, may bother you, but only a woman can tell if his intentions are anything beyond social and his are NOT!"

"I hope that you are right, Honey. I'm not upset, that he finds you attractive, Min-Soo, I'm upset that you are the lone woman on this expedition and the further we go into the jungle, the more at his mercy we are!"

Min-Soo eyed me levelly. She always claimed that she could read people far better than I could. I could tell that she was a bit miffed at me. "I appreciate your concern, Chuck," she said at last, "but I am a big girl and more than capable of taking care of myself."

She followed that up by giving me one of her looks that meant the conversation was over in no uncertain terms. That night, after we had made love in our tent and she drifted off to sleep I wished for a life-size bubble to swallow her up and protect her from evil. I knew in a pinch that Saunders could probably take both myself and Jack. I made a note to myself to inform Jack of my fears in the morning. Maybe if the two of us teamed up we could handle the behemoth if necessary. Before I closed my eyes for the night I fervently hoped that he was more than satisfied with the salary the company was paying him.

Our first week passed rather uneventfully. Saunders was on his best behavior. I shared my concerns with Jack, who felt that I was overreacting. "Min-Soo is mighty pretty, Chuck, I'm sure Saunders has noticed that but he's a professional or he would never have been recommended to the company." I sincerely hoped that Jack was correct. Min-Soo and I adored the scenery, a regular green Eden. It was reassuring to discover that not all of the world was spoiled and crammed with McDonald's and Starbucks. Jack was more blase as he had been on digs in Guatemala and other tropical places. Min-Soo and I shared a canoe with one of the native guides, we trailed Saunders, and behind us was Jack Frear. The green landscape kept us enthralled yet alert. Crocodiles sunned themselves on the banks of the river. While they could be dangerous, they would tend to leave you alone if you did not do anything stupid. The native guides were nice enough. They spoke a local dialect that only Saunders was fluent in. A few of them were conversant in Spanish but laughed at my crappy enunciation of it. Not so long ago they would have been dressed in loincloths woven from local fibers, but the modern world had brought denim and cotton. The men were all about five and a half feet tall, thin and wiry. They had coal black hair and deep brown, almost black eyes. I noticed that they deferred completely to Saunders, almost as though they were in his thrall. Obedient to a fault, they seemed to look right at me without actually seeing me, Min-Soo, or Jack.

While Saunders welcomed Jacks culinary skills and dined with us, the natives ate by themselves as a group, usually living off the land. Doc Savage informed us that our trek could take as long as three weeks. We had budgeted enough time, but it was frustrating that we could not cross the jungle more quickly. Most of the time, as a concession to the heat, my wife wore brief khaki shorts and a midriff bearing top. On occasion, all that concealed her succulent breasts was a skimpy bikini top. I noticed that Saunders was noticing my wife's physical attributes rather more intently than he should have.

When I pointed this out to Min-Soo in private she minimized my concerns, "Chuck, it's 38 degrees Celsius out here. If you think I'm going to cover up because our guide has a roving eye, you are wrong. Even IF he IS looking at me, he has been nothing less than professional since day one."

I tried to bury my fears and focus on the scenery and having a once in a lifetime experience with my beautiful wife. Most of the time that was very easy to do. The primal nature of the green jungle resonated with us we fell into our most romantic state. Min-Soo and I found ourselves making out quite often. At night in our tent, we were having some of the best sex of our marriage. In retrospect, we should not have been so vocal. At the time though I was just reveling in how slutty the jungle made Min-Soo. At night, she was up for anything, even giving me anal with more enthusiasm than she had shown previously. One night after Min-Soo had screamed my name and called me "Chuck the wonder cock," her pet name for me, I noted a tall broad shadow falling upon our tent. It vanished so quickly, I was not sure of what I had seen. It could have been a panther or large monkey that had stumbled into camp. In retrospect, I know exactly what, or rather who, it was.

A week later, all hell broke lose. We were deep in the jungle. When we could see it through the foliage, there was not so much as a jet contrail in the sky. There seemed to be fewer of Dave Saunders' native guides, but I was not sure as, I never really paid attention to their number. Our canoe followed Saunders' into a blind oxbow on the river. We heard a bird call very close at hand and dozens of natives surged out of the jungle. I hefted one of the oars from the canoe to use as a weapon, but I was never able to raise it above my waist. I heard Min-Soo scream as I was buried under a sea of bodies. Something very heavy slammed into to the back of my skull and the world went dark.

I don't know how long I was unconscious. My head was still reverberating like a bell when I finally returned to the living. It was near dusk, but the light still hurt my eyes. As the ringing in my head slowly subsided. I discovered that I was naked and chained to some kind of seat. There was a ball gag in my mouth. I felt a tightness in my crotch. My eyes took in a steel cage imprisoning my cock. I was restrained in such a way as to not cut off my circulation but to keep my limbs completely immobilized. I felt a constriction about my neck and realized that I was wearing some sort of collar.

Some natives were holding Min-Soo in place on the other side of the room we were in. There was a pillowcase or something like that over her head. I could hear her crying and calling out in Korean. I could tell she was in great distress. Then Dave Saunders loomed into vision.

"Are you back with us, Mr. Clayton? I was becoming impatient."

He nodded at the natives who released their grasp on Min-Soo and pulled off her blindfold.

"Silence Mrs. Clayton or the blindfold goes back on."

He paused and a smirk darted across his face.

"Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Clayton, to one of my retreats and to your new lives. I'm sorry to say that your friend, Mr. Frear did not make it. As to what happens now. One of my men is taking a very leisurely route back to civilization. When he gets there, he will report a combination of bad weather, wildlife, and jungle fevers, have taken the lives of everyone on the expedition. I'm injured and recovering and no one knows when I will be resuming my duties. Your company paid me well enough to bring you this far but not well enough for me to return you to your point of origin. Sad really, not even any bodies to send home." with that Saunder laughed as he took in our reactions.

He strode over to a couch where a straw manikin sat, some sort of collar around its neck.

"Observe carefully you two." he said as he produced some sort of remote control.

"Mr. Clayton, you may have noticed a tightness around your neck. You are wearing a collar similar to the one on this dummy. Observe."

He pushed the button and the collar about the neck of the straw dummy exploded, separating the head from the body in a hail of confetti.

Min-Soo screamed as Saunders broke out in an evil leer.

"Your collar, Mr. Clayton, is far more powerful and far more deadly. In one of my earlier lives I was a demolition expert in the French Foreign Legion, they assigned me to Guyana and l fell in love with the jungle. I any event, if the mood strikes me I can terminate your life, Mr. Clayton. Although quite messy, it will be painless."

Min-Soo stared slack-jawed at Saunders' demonstration, her face ashen with horror.

"This is where you come in Mrs. Clayton. YOUR behavior decides whether or not I detonate your husband's collar. I expect instant obedience in ALL things asked of you. Your obedience WILL be accompanied by enthusiasm and gratitude. In exchange for that obedient gratitude, I will allow you to feed your husband, empty his bedpan and clean him up. So long as you obey me your husband will live. Perhaps after a few years, the novelty of your luscious body will have worn off and I might choose to exile you two to a small native village deep in the rainforest. In any event, your husband's life is a simple courtesy. I KNOW that you will be more compliant with him in peril. Personally, I'd like to simply kill him but I want you more or less willing. This way I don't have to take what I want through violence. You would agree that willing is better would you not?"

Saunders waited for his words to have fully sunk in before he said, very politely,

"You really don't need your clothing anymore, Mrs. Clayton. Why don't you take everything off?"

My wife looked at me with tears in her eyes, gazed at Saunders and blanched. The bastard had every shred of power in the room. Clearly there could be only one answer. She turned to me sobbed softly and said, "I'm so sorry Honey."

My wife's huge brown, tear-filled, eyes met my own. She gazed at our tormentor and blanched. With tears in her eyes, she reached for the buttons of her blouse. Min-Soo unfastened two buttons before stopping and bending to unlace the boots from her long, lithe legs and the cotton socks under them. Even now, under these circumstances, I marveled at the shapeliness of her gams. Min-Soo's tears came in torrents as her fingers returned to the bodice of her blouse. I knew that she was not wearing a bra under it. She had found them uncomfortable in the heat. Weeping softly, Min-Soo slowly parted the fabric, exposing her large firm breasts, with the darker aerolas common in Asia and her pert nipples, which Saunders' eyes devoured hungrily. The khaki blouse fluttered to the floor and Min-Soo tried to shield herself with her arms.

"Mrs. Clayton, you will NEVER hide any part of yourself from my eyes. Place your arms at your sides." said Saunders.

Min-Soo wiped the tears from her eyes and obeyed her instructions. For the next several minutes, Saunders' eyes examined every inch of my wife's succulent form while the enormous bulge in his pants continued to swell. I could not believe the size of the package I was looking at. Saunders spoke again, this time with a catch in his voice as he said simply, "Continue, Mrs. Clayton."

Min-Soo sighed deeply and then reached for the buckle to the belt of her khaki shorts. Her taut tummy with its succulent navel trembled with emotion and her crying became more intense as the shorts slid to the floor. Beneath the shorts, my wife had worn one of her favorite pairs of panties, translucent and aqua colored. Her lovely bush stood in delightful outline beneath the fabric. Deep within my subconscious I recalled that Min-Soo liked to wear these particular panties when she wanted me to take an extra long time in dining on her pussy. When I did that she gave me ... I felt so awful that I almost wished that Saunders would push the button and end my existence. I hated Saunders so intently I thought my vehemence would set the room on fire. Like an observer from Mars, I watched my wife slowly tug off the panties she loved so well. By now I was crying as hard as she was.

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