The feel of the large, forceful tongue in her mouth drove Margie deep into her lust. Her brain swam in the delightful, powerful sensations. She moaned with pleasure when his fingers pushed aside her lower lips and entered her, delving into her lush, moist canal and then sliding to the apex of her sex lips and caressing the stiffened button of pleasure that they found there. She could feel the man’s strong, muscular chest press against her breasts as he kissed her and she yearned to free her imprisoned hands to bring their bodies more close, to feel his full weight upon her.
When the man slid his legs over her thigh, Margie was ready for him. She felt the head of his thick, stiff manhood beg entrance to her private place and she spread her legs wider and raised her hips to meet him. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, his meat slid forwards, filling her. She groaned with passion as his heat mingled with hers.
Margie felt like all of her life had brought her to this moment. Her fevered mind had a brief vision of just where she was and what was happening to her. It was like she was outside of her body looking down on the campsite, the scraggly men sitting by the fire, the bright red tent in which she lay, situated so strangely among the verdant green of the rain forest. Her outside self peered inside and she saw the broad, scarred back of her cruel, callous lover, her legs circled around his as she drew him inside her, even her gaily decorated ankles with the bright yellow ribbon wrapped around them, her stylish but clearly out of place, expensive, imported sandals that she had bought just for this trip.
But suddenly, as the man began his motions along the burning walls of her lusting canal, she was brought back into herself. The pleasure of the cock coursing its way along her fevered canal refocused her on the moment, drove all other thoughts from her mind. The man put his large, powerful hands on either side of her head, holding it firmly in place as his lips forced her lips once more ajar and he entered her mouth with his agile, hot tongue. She moaned lustfully and her hips began to echo the slow, relentless thrust of the man’s hips. It was not long before she felt her passion building to its crest. For a moment, she revolted at her perversity at finding pleasure in her rape, cursed herself for her wantonness, but as her needs were driven higher and higher, she cast herself into the dark oblivion of lust and let it go.
The woman’s whole body shuddered and shook as she came. She could feel her quim contract forcefully around the rigid pole that was scouring her inner place. She moaned and screamed into the mouth that had imprisoned her lips and her hands twisted and turned in her bindings above her head. Wave after wave of jolting, electrified pleasure shot through her. Margie loved to fuck, and her ten days with Tom on their honeymoon had been filled with ecstatic delight. But it was never like this. Overpowered, helpless to control her passions, some door had opened up and she had fallen right through it. As her pussy brought her intense shocks of pleasure each time it contracted and pulsed, she felt herself tumbling deeper and deeper into some dark place from which she knew there would be no return.
As her cunt’s convulsions subsided, she realized that the man had not slowed his long, languid thrusts inside her. He was like some mindless animal intent on his pleasure. She tried to protest his continued ravishment of her electrified loins, but made only a garbled sound as his mouth smothered her communication. She felt her orgasm coming again, stronger and more intense than last time. She was yelling and moaning into the strong, callous man’s mouth as she came. He removed his lips from her, freeing her voice and she called out, “Oh, God! Oh! Oh! Ohhhhhhh!” as her pussy exploded. The man placed his lips by her ear and she could hear him whispering to her in his gruff, gravely voice, “That’s it, scream and yell,
putita
. Let it all out like the whore that you are.”
To her dismay, the sawing of her now burning, electrified cunt by the man’s thick, stiff cock continued. His thrusts began to come a little faster, the collision of his hips against hers became a little harder. Slowly, but surely his energy built up until he was almost in a frenzy, hammering his pelvis against hers as he thrust himself deeply within her. She did not want to come, not again. She felt that she would not be able to stand it. She was being pushed past anything she had ever experienced. “Oh, God, please stop, please,” she whimpered even as her body wanted more and more of the devilish prick within her. Her eyes were welling up with tears at her utter helplessness to prevent the unwanted eruption of her senses once again. She had been kidnapped and whipped, insulted and deprived of all human attributes. The same man who was driving her past her mind’s ability to tolerate or comprehend her body’s vibrant, nuclear radiation of pleasure, would kill her if it suited him, she knew that. She was no more to him than a pussy, a cunt, a
crica
, a
conche
, put on this earth for him to despoil and ravish. When he was tired of her or when expediency demanded, he would discard her in a way that she would bring him no trouble.
The man gave out a loud, animalistic groan and his cock began to pulse and jerk inside her. Margie’s disobedient sex reveled in the feel of his hot discharge as it spread within. She screamed as her feverish contractions and convulsions began again, so loudly that the man placed his meaty hand over her face, across her lips to muzzle her. Her body rocked and twisted beneath the heavy body that was still pummeling her sex.
Finally, thankfully, the man’s body came to rest and he collapsed on top of her.
Chapter Five
An Excursion
They had fucked, it seemed for hours. After their first round, Diego rolled off of the exhausted, despondent woman and took a long pull off of the bottle of fiery liquor. He sat there, crossed legged, beside her, admiring her voluptuous flesh and wandering his hands along it, squeezing a breast, caressing her tummy, teasing the soft, flooded opening between her thighs. When his passions were aroused once again, he remounted her and drove her to another series of wrenching orgasms before depositing the product of his passions deep within her. Later, after giving her more of the potent brew to drink, he forced her up on her hands and knees and took her from behind. Her breasts swayed and jerked below her as he thrust into her madly, his hands firmly on her graceful, sensuous hips. At one point, to Margie’s dismay, he rubbed his large, coarse thumb along the small, brownish tinted entrance to her bowels and then plunged it inside her. Margie had never been pierced there before and the sensation of the teasing of her anal ring by the thick thumb coursing in and out of her felt strange and perversely delightful in spite of her revulsion at it. Her heart darkened when she heard the man say that maybe later he would stuff his cock in it and give her a ride she would never forget.
Margie lost count of her intense, body wracking orgasms. She didn’t even remember falling asleep. But she awoke when the large man next to her stirred. It was after dark and it was disorienting not to have caught the passage of the light. The man wordlessly left the tent and left her to speculate at what would happen now.
Darkness was the bandit’s friend. Most of his depredations had occurred after the sun had faded behind the hills. Pepe had readied the boat and
el Jefe
and the slender but well built man pushed off into the night.
Margie panicked when she heard the boat’s engine spring to life and the unmistakable sound of the boat puttering away. Had the man left her here, bound to a stake, alone in the jungle, to die of hunger or thirst? Or maybe some animal would come into her tent and tear at her flesh. The man had re-gagged her at some point during their sexual acrobatics and she gave out a scream of terror as she lifted her head and tried to peer into the darkness outside of her tent. She was rewarded after a few moments by seeing the scraggly head of the skinny, bedraggled man, Manuelo, appearing at her feet.
“Don’t worry,
doňa
,” he said grinning.
El Jefe
will be back later. He’s gone fishing.” He laughed at his own joke and then disappeared.
Manuelo had been left behind to take care of the tents and to make sure that nothing untoward happened to the blonde
puta
. For a while, he sat contentedly at the fire, drinking from the brandy bottle, smoking cigarettes. He was a hard luck kind of a guy. Nothing good ever seemed to happen to him. He was lucky to have been taken in by the great bandit, Diego Badoya. He had had his share of loot and pussy ever since. But he often bristled at the lack of respect that he got from the fearsome bandit. The man referred to him often as a “son of a whore”, a “snake’s asshole”, a “donkey’s cock” as he ordered him around.
And now the greedy fucker had taken sole possession of the beautiful, blonde
gringa
, not willing to share her even a little bit. Tonight Diego and Pepe would enjoy first fruits of whatever treasure they found and he had to languish here, alone. The recollection of the languorous, naked body lying helpless in the nearby tent kept creeping into his mind. If he fucked her, how would
el Jefe
ever find out? The girl wouldn’t talk, he was sure of that. Diego hadn’t let her say a single word since that had captured her anyway. His cock stirred at the thought of her soft, pliant skin and the tender hole between her legs. Why should he have to choke his chicken when there was an amply suitable cunt not fifty feet from where he sat?
Manuelo decided that it wouldn’t hurt anything to take another look at her. It was his job to make sure that she was all right, wasn’t it? He put the bottle aside, tossed his burning fag end into the fire and walked lazily over to the tent. There was a new moon out and the little clearing was brightly lit. He left the flap to the tent open as he entered it so that the pale light would penetrate it. The girl looked up at him with frightened, suspicious eyes. Her hands twisted in her ties above her head and she drew her legs together. He didn’t mind. He knelt down next to her and ran his hands over her soft, pale skin. “Oooooooouuu,
putita
,” he said to her, “you’re skin is so soft I’d like to eat you up.” He teased the points of flesh at the tips of her breasts until they stood up at attention. The girl whined and her body shuddered as he stroked her. Maybe he would fuck her, he thought. But then the vision of the fierce bandit came into his mind. He had seen
el Jefe
do some pretty mean things. He wouldn’t want to be at the brunt of the man’s ire. It was foolish to risk his life for a little bit of pussy. In a few days, perhaps, they would move south to the border town where the
gringa
’s money would buy him a proper whore for a week. He patted the bound female on her tummy and left the tent.
The scrawny bandit sat at the campfire morosely cogitating on his lowly status, the unfairness of his leader and the soft, pleasant flesh of the woman in the tent for a couple of hours. Once or twice he started his way back to the tent with a determination to sink his cock into her pussy, Diego or no Diego, but lost his courage and returned to the fire. The third time, he mustered enough grit to go back inside. The woman was asleep and she jumped and screamed behind her gag when he touched her. This time, he forced her thighs apart and coddled her little treasure in his boney hand until it was damp and then pushed a long, stiff finger inside. The girl whined and moaned as he did it, but he paid that no mind. What did she matter, anyway? It was her own fault that she had been stupid enough to let herself be captured by Diego in the first place. Why didn’t these
Norte Americanos
stay where they belonged? They came down with their money and their whorish women and marched around as if they were something special. He had driven a cab for a while in
Caracas
, before he had been caught stealing and thrown into prison for three years, and he resentfully recalled the umbrage that his
Yanqui
passengers expressed when they discovered that he didn’t understand English. They would shout the strange words at him slowly as if he were some kind of retard that could be made to understand only if the words were said loudly and slowly enough. No, the whorish blond woman deserved all she got.
But yet, once again, the vision of Diego slitting his throat came into his head and he abandoned his purpose. It was a few hours later, once he had reached the bottom of the bottle of local, harsh brandy, that he had finally got the courage to act on his desires. It was the recollection of the screaming and moaning that he had heard from the
putita
as Diego fucked her that did it. He and Pepe had looked at each other and grinned as the woman’s impassioned cries emanated from the small tent again and again. He wanted to hear them this time up close.
Bravely, drunkenly, Manuelo staggered over to the small tent. The woman was awake when he came in and the moonlight glinted off of her fearful eyes. He knelt at her feet and, taking her ankles in his hands, spread her legs apart. The frightened woman did not resist, but only whined through her orange mask.
The fuzzy, blond treasure was revealed to him in all its glory. Its soft folds called to him and he yearned to taste of its ambrosia. Manuelo liked sucking cunts. The whores back in
Caracas
had called him
el hormiguero
, the anteater, because of his proclivities and his long, agile tongue. He took off his battered, floppy hat and cast it aside and leaned over to supp at the woman’s heavenly gate.