The Naked Prey Ch. 03

It was dusk by the time our captors returned with us to the village. The Amazons hardly broke a sweat carrying two full-grown men secured to poles. Me and Tom couldn't see much in the fading light but I knew the Africans' eyesight was much better than ours in the darkness.

A crowd of women were still amusing themselves by taking it in turns to suffocate the poor wretch. Some females were lighting a fire close by to where the prostrate man was still staked to shed more light on the centrepiece of their enjoyment.

Paraffin lamps, dotted outside the houses, glowed to show the insects flying close by. The sound of crickets chirping in the undergrowth provided a background symphony to his sobs and occasional gut-wrenching gasps.

Our carriers dropped both of us on the dusty ground and meandered off to find refreshments. All we could do was to lay there uncomfortably, forced to face the obscene spectacle of inhuman smother-torture.

The village leader strutted from out of her house and barked at a couple of women preparing supper over a charcoal fire. Chattering loudly, they grouped all the women in a circle around their victim. There came a quietness, almost a strange stillness in the night air as the leader stood at his feet, hands on wide hips. Her white skirt fluttered in the gentle breeze.

There was still one female who was unaware of what was going on around her. She was experiencing an orgasm by suffocating him and forcing him to lick her anus. The leader grinned and said something to her. She opened her eyes, reluctantly stood up from his face and found a space to sit and watch.

The man looked up at her towering over him, his eyes wide and white with fear. He was so weak from hours of degradation and tormenting he could bearly move his head. He pleaded with her and the sounds of begging he made were pitiful to hear.

She grinned down at him and in a trice her skirt came off and was thrown to a woman to catch in the crowd. Her mighty black body shimmered in the flickering flames and I'll never forget that look on her face. It sent a chill of ice shooting down my back, even in that hot African evening.

The sense of atmosphere told me something extraordinary was going to happen and my premonition was about to be confirmed. I glanced at Tom and his look of horror matched my own.

She ambled slowly along the length of his body, her eyes gleefully scanning her prey, revelling in his whimperings. Then she stood over his shoulders and studied his stricken face, her eyes fixated with his. After a moment she crouched down to squat on his chest. Then she slipped forward and her vagina rubbed against his quivering chin.

Like some glorious actress before her audience, she smiled at her black sisters before sitting fully on his helpless head. Her voluminous body smothered his groans of despair, while she settled her bottom to obliterate his face. Only his forehead and eyes could be seen. They were rolling around, big and bulging as she captured his nose inside her pussy.

The smell of the earthy ground made me realise the poor wretch had been lying in that dirt all day. These bitches had made him lie there all that time while they all took turns to use him in their perverted sex games. Now it was all about to finish.

His struggles were hardly visible; just the occasional insipid straining of bound ankles and wrists at the pegs. The sight was pathetic to watch, yet it was impossible to look away.

She manoeuvred herself to bring her legs out straight before her so she was now sitting full-weight on his face. Then she wriggled her hips to grind her bottom deeper into his squashed face, her own a picture of delight. The spectators looked on enthralled, laughing, chuckling and some open-eyed, mesmerised.

She gave him absolutely no quarter. There was not even a glimmer of mercy in her face, just perverted pleasure at what she was doing to him.

Every second seemed like a minute. It seemed like he had been suffocated for a very long time. Perhaps his lung capacity had been stretched with so much torture he could now hold his breath for several minutes.

Every so often she'd wriggled his nose into her cunt and gave a little gasp at the sensation it gave her. She kept on doing this until he made one last desperate attempt to break his face free, guttural noises emanating from beneath her. Then she closed her eyes and bent forwards slightly as the crescendo of her orgasm overcame her. Gently rocking her vulva into his nose she milked the climax for as long as she could while the victim began to die under her mighty body.

I glanced at Tom and we gave each other a look of terror and both looked away from this debauched spectacle.

As the seconds ticked by we again soon became drawn like magnets to look, but only looking at it as a sideways surveillance.

I quickly evaluated that the audience was enraptured by the sight of their village leader using their prey's face as a means of suffocating him to death.

He didn't stand a chance. This bitch was killing a man before our very eyes just because she enjoyed it. She was loving it, every second, every moment of making him suffer beneath her.

A few of her sisters cheered, some whooped, and others groaned as if in some kind of shared deeper, licentious pleasure.

His body began to jerk quite a bit while every ounce of his survival fibre fought against the certain and inevitable conclusion.

The head, black Amazon took a sharp intake of breath as the last strains of his life-force drained from his worn, tired and abused body.

She gasped a few words in her mother tongue and howls came from her sisters as if in total

She remained sitting there for a while, her posture straight whilst smearing and grinding his face with her overwhelming backside and pussy.

Then it was over.

The she slowly raised her black voluptuous frame from her victim. The sight was hideous to see.

He lay there in the red dirt. Tortured, tormented, smothered, suffocated, used and abused. A man had died just because these evil bitches from Hell had greatly enjoyed sitting on a man's face until he suffocated so much they took his life.

I felt sorry for what they'd done to this man, even if he had been a thief.

His eyes bulged grotesquely, his tongue still protruding from where she'd forced him to perform even as he was dying.

It suddenly hit us both of what our fate was going to be as the leader of these black Amazons began to look at us and strutted over.

Grinning down at us, she spoke good English with a faint African accent:

'Mzungus, you have seen what us ladies in this village like doing to men.' She paused, as if for greater effect. 'Tonight we will prepare ourselves and pray for what happens tomorrow.'

I swallowed hard. Is that our fate? To be smothered to death by some muscled Amazon? I don't mind admitting I have never been more afraid in my entire life.

She continued grinning and speaking:

'Tomorrow you will become our prey and we will hunt you. And whoever catches you they will have you.'

I could have been wrong but I suspected I heard a faint tone of lust in her voice. She went on:

'Tonight we will pray and celebrate and you will witness what we do to guards who don't do their job.'

She shouted something in her natural language in the direction of a house. Four women pushed out our two guards we'd escaped from. Both women were naked, tethered with their hands behind their backs, with worried looks on their faces.

They were thrown to the ground and a horde of excitable women scrambled to hold them down and sit on them. Within seconds they were covered in black female bottoms, crushing and squashing them. A woman took pride of position on each of their prisoners, smearing their backsides into their captives' faces.

As me and Tom lay there watching yet another debauched scene I couldn't help but wonder if I would live to see another sunset, just as the last tip of the dying red sun disappeared over the horizon.



I was woken by the very near and very loud crowing of a strutting cockerel. That sound, and the barking of dogs, are the most common noises in Africa.

Dawn's early light filtering through the netted widow showed a small tidy, sparsely furnished room.

It was hot, even for that time of the morning. I sweated all night. Now I was thirsty.

I was bound, semi-clothed on a not-very-comfortable bed, with my fellow captive Tom beside me. We had a mosquito net covering us, hanging from a rafter like a mini bell-tent. I assumed they wanted us disease-free, or else they'd have let us be infected by the most proficient killing machine of all insects that only bites at night. Ironically, the gender of the mosquito that carries the malaria parasite isn't the male.

It seems the female of the species is much deadlier than the male.

Last night the female savages had spent several hours amusing themselves with the guards. Failure brought its own just desserts in this place. The crowds bullied the two women into performing cunninglingus and analingus by enforced smothering.

The cockerel squawked again. Before I had a chance to wake Tom up to exchange information an Amazon burst through the door.

'Come!' she said, wrapping the net into the shape of a dangling ball.

She pulled us both off the bed and was joined by another large female; my nemesis, the smirker.

'We are to get you ready for the games,' she informed us.

Tom and I exchanged glances. Games?

'Come and toilet then eat,' she said, smirking even more, dragging us, with her assistant's help, outside.

Later, they tied our hands together in front of us, gave us some sort of hot porridge in mugs while we sat on the ground watching the village come to life.

A few goats were tethered beneath a tree and chickens roamed freely, pecking at anything that looked edible. Women were busying themselves with washing dishes or clothes or having their breakfasts.

With our hearts pounding, we watched the head of the village enjoy her breakfast outside her house with a few friends. She often glanced over to us, said some words to her companions, and raucous laughter then followed. In fact most of the women would cast us momentary lecherous leers at some point during the course of the morning.

The sun was very hot and directly above us when events took an ominous turn. The women began organising themselves into two groups dressed only in thongs and bras. I got very frightened when a couple of spears were produced. They were laughing and joking amongst themselves and becoming excitable.

'This could be it,' I said to my friend.

'I hope it's quick,' he replied dryly.

They looked a fearsome sight. A horde of black African females, muscled, tall and strong.

Several Amazons came over, yanked us to our feet and pulled us towards their leader.

'Mzungus,' she announced. 'This is a good day for the village. Today you will take part in the games to find a wife. It is a happy day for us because today two of us will find a husband.'

Jesus H! They weren't going to kill us but marry us instead!

Tom's eyes were dazed when he looked at me. We both knew what this meant. These crazed females were looking for a man to do all the foul sexual deviations they enjoyed most.

'But,' she went on in her good English, 'you will have a chance to escape.'

Laughter and hand clapping came from every woman present.

'You will each throw a spear,' she explained, 'as far as you can, then you will run.' She looked around at her black sisters with a huge grin on her high cheek-boned face. 'Then,' she paused for effect; 'we will chase you from when you reach the spear and the first one to catch you wins you.'

There came deafening whoops and cheers.

When they calmed down she added mischievously: 'To do whatever we like with.'

They loved that. The noise of their excitation went on for several minutes.

Then the games began.

Tom was to go first. He was untied, stripped naked and a spear was thrust into his hand. A few women urged him to throw it, in Swahili, others showed by indication.

'Good luck, mate,' I called.

When he was ready he took the stance, raised the weapon and ran a few feet before launching it as hard as he could.

Dozens of pairs of eyes followed its path through the air as it sailed towards the open ground. It was a good throw. It landed a good thirty yards from where we stood.

'Go!' they said to him, pushing him.

He legged it, accelerating as fast as he could.

Please make it, I thought. Please don't trip. Just make it to freedom.

He ran well. I've never seen him run so quickly and I was glad to see him pick up speed as he flew past the embedded spear.

Immediately he passed the marker the first group of about twenty women set off in hot pursuit. The village head wasn't among them and I also couldn't see the smirker. Then I spotted both of them in the remaining group staring at me with wide grins. They, like the rest of their group, could barely take their attention from the pursuit, only managing to ogle at me briefly in anticipation. So it looked like I'd been especially selected for one of these women to become her smother slave. A shard of fear shot right through me just at the thought.

Tom was making good headway through the open grassy plain. He was becoming a pinprick and I calculated he had a chance before his pursuers caught up if only he could make it to the distant hills.

For no particular reason I wondered why they hadn't put me into the 'games' so far, then it struck me why not. They were waiting for the return of the first group before they set off after me because they couldn't trust the first groups' women to not partake in the second chase. African women, like most races of women, can be very artful when it comes to them wanting something badly.

My group of women chatted, hooted, whooped, jumping up and down excitedly, revelling in the atmosphere. Their large, muscular black female African protruding buttocks seemed to me to be ominously threatening in some way.

I prayed Tom would make it. That also gave me a better chance, too.