The young women guided Margie between the huts and down to a shallow, running stream that bordered the village. It pooled it one spot and the girls brought Margie there and made her stand next to it. They commenced to cover her body with the ashes, rubbing them into her skin. Margie was too exhausted and dispirited from her recent ordeal to protest. When they were done, their soft, small hands caressing every portion of Margie’s pale flesh, even between her thighs and over her still sensitized slit, they brought her into the water and washed her off. The pool was deep enough so that when they brought Margie to her knees the water came up to the top of her breasts. The cool, gently running water massaged her worn body. The girls made her stand and kneel several times, making sure that the scouring ashes had washed from her flesh completely.
Margie enjoyed, despite herself, her handling by the now bashful, young girls. They smiled at her friendlily and made soft cooing sounds at her that made the tired woman relax. Once they had her body cleaned, they made her kneel again and loaded some ashes into her damp hair. Adding water to it, they worked the mush into her head and all along her long, reddish blond tresses. When they washed it out, Margie’s hair was clean for the first time in days.
The girls returned Margie directly to the women’s hut. Having lost some of her novelty, to the women at least, the people of the village took little notice of her as she was marched between the small dwellings. When they reentered the women’s hut, the girls had Margie kneel down and, after working a sweetly smelling, oily lotion into her hair, combed it out with utensils made from bone until it was free of knots and hung down straight around her.
The three older women were busy putting together a concoction, mashing away at vegetative substances in a broad, wooden bowl, adding powders and chopped leaves into it and a milky fluid from a gourd. They ignored the work of the young girls as they stretched Margie’s body out on a soft, black animal skin and began to rub the lotion they had applied to her hair all over her accepting, relaxed body. They took a long bone that was sharpened on one side and scraped away her nascent pubic growth. The hair from the skin was smooth and pleasant as Margie lay atop it. She was experiencing the first kindnesses she had received since the gentle hands of the pretty Carmelita had bathed her and given her loving caresses back in
Porto Vaca
.
When the young women were done, they left the hut. Margie lay languidly relaxed on the soft, black animal fur. She gratefully drifted off into sleep curled on her side, her bound hands folded under her chin.
She was awoken a few hours later by one of the old women. She had been dreaming of the green god again. She was kneeling in front of him, her hands bound behind her, and he was crouched down before her, running his strong, hands over her breasts and peering deeply into her eyes. Her dream self reveled in the touch of the strange, muscular, green tinted man and yearned for him to take possession of her. She tried to speak to him, but no words would come out.
The old woman gently, but firmly, brought the groggy white woman to her knees. She had a gourd and let Margie drink from it. It was a strongly flavored fruit juice and Margie welcomed its friendly, sweet taste. The woman also had a bowl of dried meat and she fed Margie little pieces of it by hand. Margie, grateful for the sustenance, chewed each piece hungrily. The meat was tough and chewy and had a strong, smoked flavor. Margie wondered what it was, somewhat fretfully, as she dutifully ate each piece that was proffered to her.
The old women let Margie kneel by herself for a while as they continued to prepare the food like substance. Margie thought that she saw their lips moving as they took turns pulverizing a root into it with a wooden pestle, and assumed that they were uttering a prayer. Strangely, she regretted not having her notebook with her. This was what she had wanted to see all of her life, the customs and practices of a primitive tribe virtually uncontaminated by civilization. It was ironic that she was getting her wish, but that she would probably never be able to tell anyone about it.
While the woman who Margie assumed was the high priestess continued to administer to the soupy mixture, the other women turned their attention to Margie. Margie had begun to feel good about her situation, or at least as good as she could feel under the circumstances. She had been bathed and her skin felt clean and fresh. Her long, blond hair had been combed and it exuded a sweet smell around her. She had been fed and had slept. The young girls had even allowed her to see to her physical needs when they had brought her outside.
Margie’s hands were still bound together in front of her. The rope that confined them had been wrapped around her neck and affixed to the ring in her collar behind her, keeping them posed, prayer like in front of her. The two women, who like the priestess had necklaces of beads, feather and bone around their necks, although not quite as ostentatious as their superior’s, untied Margie’s hands and drew the rope free of her collar. Taking her by her arms, they led her to the far wall of the large hut and made her kneel down again. One of them held her in place while the other left and returned with a frame of polished wood. It had two, two inch thick, horizontal bars about three feet apart and three vertical bars, one fastened close to each end. The third vertical bar, longer than the other two, ran down the middle. The frame looked like some huge tic tac toe game without the x’s and o’s. There was a hole in the ground behind Margie about three feet deep and reinforced with a hollow, hardened clay tube. The old woman slipped the longest vertical pole of the frame into the hole and it stood up behind the puzzled prisoner.
Margie knew that something bad was about to happen. Her mouth was uncharacteristically ungagged and she thought of protesting and begging to be spared whatever was coming, but she remembered the fierce slap that the young girl had given her a short while ago when she refused to part her lips for her pleasure, and remained silent. When the women produced long, thin, leather thongs, Margie realized that she was about to be tied to the frame and her heart sank at the portent of future suffering. Her back was pushed up against the wooden structure, the middle bar running along the center of her spine. Too afraid to resist, she began to whine and cry.
The women paid her no mind as they lashed her body to the frame. They drew her arms over the top horizontal bar so that it lay just in the crux of her underarms. Attaching one end of a thong around her right wrist, they pulled her hands down, tied them off and then attached them to the middle pole of the frame. Another leather strap went around her elbows and they were drawn forcibly together and bound, making the pale, frightened white woman squeal with pain.
Margie’s back arched as a result of the pressure of her elbows being fastened to each other. Her firm, round, heavy breasts were forced outwards in presentation. The poor woman sobbed as first one leg, and then the other, was brought up behind her, the back of her knees bent around the lower horizontal bar of the frame. Long straps were affixed to her ankles and then tied off to the horizontal bar that crossed her back at shoulder height. Another strap went around the top of each thigh and fastened the bound ankle to it.
The unhappy woman was fixed firmly to the frame with only her knees touching the ground. The tightly knotted thongs dug deeply into her flesh. She moaned as the women spread her knees wider apart and lashed them to the vertical bars of the frame at each end. The spreading of her knees caused her weight to rest on the bars that ran under her armpits and she cried out as her muscles stretched painfully.
Once Margie was properly mounted, the priestess came over to her. She ran her hands through the captive woman’s silky, golden hair and caressed her outthrust breasts. One of the other woman brought out a thin, blade made from animal bone with a ceremonially decorated wooden handle and the priestess grabbed a lock of Margie’s long, beautiful hair. Murmuring a prayer together with the two other women, the priestess proceeded to lop off a lock of Margie’s hair close to her scalp. Margie moaned with unhappiness at the desecration of her lovely growth. But the old woman was not finished. When she took hold of a second, long skein of the thin, reddish blond hair, Margie became overwhelmed with grief and broke out into deep, heartfelt sobs.
The Priestess proceeded to trim Margie’s hair all around her head until all that was left was an inch tall stubble. Margie remembered the one young woman touching her hair earlier and asking the priestess something and now she knew what they had been talking about.
Once she had practically denuded Margie’s head, the priestess handed off the pile of long, blond strands of hair to one of the other women who then scurried from the hut. The priestess retreated to where she had been working a short while before and came back with a small, clay bowl. The bowl contained a wiry mass of scrapings in it that looked like shredded tree bark. The woman who had left returned and she had in her hand a long stick with a flame on its end. Cupping it to protect it from the air, she came over to where Margie knelt grotesquely bound and knelt next to the priestess. The priestess picked up the bowl and presented it to the other woman who dipped the flaming stick into it.
The mass of shredded bark lit and immediately began to emit a heavy, grey smoke. The priestess took hold of the back of Margie’s head and bent it forwards so that her face was immersed in the acrid, swirling cloud. Margie choked and coughed as she was forced to breathe the foul emissions from the bowl. “P-please, please,…” she croaked as the smoke burned into her lungs. She closed her mouth and held her breath, but the priestess held her head there for several minutes, waiting until she had exhausted her oxygen and was forced to take a long, deep breath. When she was sure that the unfortunate woman had had several, deep lungfuls, she released Margie’s head and dipped her own head into the smoke. She took a deep breath and then passed the smoking bowl to the other two women who did the same. One of the women then clapped a wooden plate over the bowl, extinguishing the burning mass.
The three, naked, old women knelt patiently in front of the unhappy, coughing white captive waiting for the smoke to have its effect. They had their palms turned out in front of them and were chanting quietly, their eyes closed, their faces turned up. Margie’s head began to swim. The inside of the hut started to vibrate and shimmer and her body became electrified with sensation. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and the tips of her breasts became taut and tingly. Her loins began to burn. Every inch of her skin seemed to have come alive and the sound of the women’s prayers had begun to echo in her head, mesmerizing her.
After about five minutes, the priestess opened her dark eyes and stared at the pale skinned creature in front of her. Margie’s eyes were drawn deeply into the old woman’s and the whole spinning room was reduced to just the two of them. The old woman, still murmuring an incantation, reached out her bony hands and began to caress Margie’s flesh, starting on her slack, soft cheeks, down her neck and over her breasts. Everywhere the hands went, Margie could feel a strange energy entering her. The woman ran her hands over Margie’s imprisoned thighs and her hips and her shoulders. When she centered one hand over Margie’s distended cleft, the young woman moaned as pleasure seemed to seep from the woman’s thin, wrinkled skin directly into her.
Placing both of her hands on the sides of Margie’s head, the old woman brought their faces close together. Margie felt their beings start to merge. She tried to resist, mentally asserting herself against the woman’s stronger, more experienced psyche. The woman leaned forward and, holding the white woman’s shorn head still, placed her lips over Margie’s mouth and forced a long, sour lungful of her breath into Margie’s chest.
Her battle to resist the intrusion of the old woman’s mind into hers collapsed as the priestess’s soul entered Margie’s body. Margie moaned with fear and her body shook. She saw visions of her life passing rapidly through her brain, her childhood, college, Tom, her honeymoon and then her terrible, frightful, dehumanizing experiences of the last six weeks.
Margie realized that the old woman was drinking her memories from her, delving into her soul. She felt a wave of affection flow into her from the priestess like she was some kind of treasured creature. Their naked bodies rubbed against each other and Margie’s pulse quickened and her heart beat faster as she felt her lust begin to rise. The old woman’s hand slid down her torso, stopping to massage her hardened breasts, her taut belly, and then dipped between her thighs and seized her engorged love lips.
Margie sighed and moaned while the old woman caressed her. She entered the bound woman’s mouth with her tongue and Margie sucked and played with it gratefully. The impassioned, pale skinned woman could feel her body’s pleasures reflected in the old woman’s mind and then passed back to her with a renewed intensity. The woman’s fingers slowly and smoothly rubbed Margie’s hard bud of pleasure until her body could no longer tolerate it and she exploded in orgasm. As her pussy contracted and pulsed, Margie felt as if the two of them were both experiencing it, a thought reinforced by the woman’s hearty groans and the shuddering of her flesh.
As her pussy’s intense, pleasurable spasms retreated, the woman slowed her caresses and then parted her body from the white woman’s. Margie, her mind still recovering from her crisis, saw the woman smile affectionately. It was if the woman now knew all about her, had rifled through the files in her brain and read them all. She stroked Margie’s cheek with her bony hand and then she and the other two women got up and went back to their work.