The following fiction is intended for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. Please do read only if you are legally considered of adult age, are not offended by extreme content and your community's standards permit such material. Any reuse of the following is prohibited without the express permission of the author. Thank you. This tale follows the first story. The reader is urged to read the first in the series before reading the following, though it is not entirely necessary for both works to be read in order for the reader to enjoy. Faibhar
Return to Panay Las Cruces The hip-hugger denims she purchased in the Manila bazaar nearest the hotel fit snuggly. The tightness made Marla feel sexy. The form accentuated her femaleness. The cut followed the curve of her hips and nice ass. She reflected on her determined transformation since last year's visit to Panay Las Cruces. The many hours spent working out and the dieting paid off. She felt stronger, fitter. There was, as the boxers say, the tale of the tape- her boob job to a full D-cup compensated for the loss of 2 more percentage points of body fat. Last year at this time, she wore clothes 1 size larger. Now she could do many more push-ups, crunches and out-lap most men around a pool. All work pointed to this mission, and the moment had almost arrived. She reminded herself she had no regrets making this trip solo. It had been wise to sell the company when she did-that was the last she saw of Michael and Ed. Taking a sabbatical was very wise too, she thought, no longer would she need to forge excuses to curious lovers about the scars. Plus, she had the freedom to journey back to Panay Las Cruces, and this time on her own. The tall American with the dirty blonde hair made her way through the sea of black-haired citizens. She finally found a pay phone and placed the call. Expecting to hear a familiar voice, she was told that Mr. Mahdavi-Kini, the one that had arranged for her first visit, retired and then passed away. His nephew answered and explained his uncle's absence. When the foreign woman told him what she wanted, to meet up with the notorious gang called Los Muerte Negros, he said she was stupid. Only after Marla insisted in Tagalog, "I yan ang gusto ko" (That is what I want), did he grudgingly give her directions to meet that night at ten under a stall on the west corner of Saolaman and Trinity. Marla wiped her chin on the crop sleeve of the pale blue top she had purchased when she bought the jeans. Even at night the place was humid, she shrugged, and swatted away pesky mosquitoes as she waited at corner. Just to be sure she made the appointment, she had made it a point to arrive ten minutes early. She was about to leave some 30-minutes later when a tinny car horn honked. She looked. Behind the dirty windshield was the first face she recognized since arriving in this country. Duarte's teeth looked worse than ever as she got in. His breath stunk just as bad. His unruly hair looked about as she remembered, though, and when she told him what she wanted, he agreed to pick her up early the next morning and take her to the village church where her adventures had all started. From there, she would be on her own. Morning breeze from the open window stirred her hair as they jostled along the back roads. Her driver hushed after she slapped his wayward hand from her knee. Familiar fields passed by. Water buffalo grazed. Farmers worked fields of sugar cane. The thatched roofs of villages grew fewer. Here and there kalachuchi and sampaguita flowers brightened the way, but they were few. Mainly shades of brown and green meeting the blue horizon colored the scene as the jungle approached. Her excitement, like her hair stirred. Marla grimly smiled as they rumbled passed the old church. She craned her neck to see the alley where the mob took her, but Duarte did not slow down. He seemed eager to turn around and head back. "Dito ang daan"(This is the path), he said, bringing the jitney to a halt. Clouds of dust surrounded them. Duarte muttered for the crazy American to get out, and speedily turned around and sped away after she stepped from his car. She had brought only what she wore. Marla knew from prior experience that she had everything she needed. She took off her sun-glasses and looked around. The edge of the small town looked deserted. Ahead was a small path leading into the jungle. Summoning up another deep breath of courage, she walked toward its entrance and stepped into the lush darkness of the tropical foliage. With no wrist-watch to keep accurate time by, she estimated that she had climbed the trail for an hour. Sweat poured from her. She should have had enough sense to bring water, she thought, and held away the flimsy material of her new top. Sweat darkened its light blue color, and the shirt itself was sticking to her. Pushing away from the tree she leaned on, Marla figured it was time to continue when the webbing dropped. There looked to be five of them. All wore masks and pointed rifles at her. One stepped forward and spoke. "You are far from where you should be, White woman." The near-perfect English helped startled Marla. The tangle of netting was tossed away. Marla looked at the one speaking and said, " I am looking for Los Muerte Negros. If you can take me to them, then I will be in the right place." Her voice sounded stronger than her own courage, but she remembered Cuervo and Ernesto, the two leaders of the gang that tortured her and that Peace Corp bitch, Danielle. The guerrilla seemed to consider her words, spoke hurried speech to his comrades in some tongue Marla did not comprehend, and then said, "We will take you, Amerikana. Now the memory of your craziness last year returns. But, you must first be blindfolded." Marla kept silent and allowed the rag to cover her eyes. Tied behind her head, she could no longer see. Her wrists were placed one on top of the other and bound. Hours passed as they trudged through the jungle. Marla heard new voices as they stopped. She stood still as the blind covering her eyes was removed. The glare was harsh, but she could make out other men going around the small clearing where they stood. Next to the hiking boots she wore sat a small tin box. "You will get on your knees and wait in there." The guerrilla gestured toward the low container with the barrel of his rifle. Marla looked again at the box, and back at the one who had spoken in alarm. "Yes, it is large enough to hold you, but only just..." They kept her wrists bound and forced Marla to her knees. One end of the box opened like a door. She could see small air holes punched in its sides. The interior looked dark, but she wiggled to crawl in anyway. The small door swung shut behind her soles. Marla heard a lock click on the outside. The suffocating dark was stifling. Any move of head shoulders or hips would touch the burning metal walls. Marla waited on her knees. She could only raise to the height of her arms as her knuckles touched the ground. Fingers from roped wrists dug into the earth, but it was no cooler. She tried crying out, but her cries went unheeded and soon the energy that it took to call was sapped. Marla softly whimpered as the confined space around her melted and struggled to breathe. Occasionally, someone would empty a bucket of water over the top of the metal box with the White woman inside. Steam quickly rose as the water splashed. As the afternoon wore on, interest in the captive waned. When evening turned to night the air slowly cooled. From the corners of her eyes she could barely make out the tiny holes near the bottom of the box. It was through these holes that she was able to see the light change into night. Sounds changed as well. Fewer male voices were heard, and the noises in the jungle alter as nocturnal creatures made their rounds. The hissing sound came sometime during the early morning hours. Marla heard it, and then felt her pant leg rustle. Company had joined her cramped space. She tried shaking her leg free and then thought better of it. Marla bit her lower lip as it slithered along her calf. She shed silent tears. The movement stopped. Marla tried to convince herself that the snake only sought the warmth of her calf, and really meant her no harm, but her silent tears continued and her chest quaked. The light of the new morning brought new sounds. The reptile was gone. Marla tried to peek down at one tiny shaft of light when the small door creaked opened at the soles of her boots, flooding brilliant sunshine. She felt as bad as she looked. Her head swum dizzily, but it felt good to at last stand. Disheveled strands of hair fell down her front. Lower, she could see her navy sports bra in stark contrast to the pale blue top. Red rimmed her eyes. A soldier poured fresh water over her lips. She gulped as much as she could. "Your night was pleasant, I trust?" Marla didn't speak, but wearily looked at the guerilla facing her. "We understand that you have come all this way from your home in the United States to submit to our leaders, correct?" She nodded. "Then, let us see what you have to show." Marla sighed. At last...Hands undid the ropes tying her wrists. Her arms were raised up, and the top lifted off. The bra came next. More men gathered to see the loco White woman stripped. Foul grins leered as freed breasts swung free. "Ah, you have pretty nipples," the guerrilla said. He palmed one full breast and tweaked the rose-colored nipple with his thumb until the flesh stiffened. Sweat returned. Her face and neck felt flush. She gazed around. More of them had gathered. Their lewd comments she could barely translate, but their meaning was clear. Hands undid her boots, and pulled off her socks. She stepped from her jeans as they were pulled down and also from the bikini panties. Marla looked up to the cloudless sky as her wrists were rebound. She tried to ignore the catcalls, as she stood nude and looked up above. There were no clouds. "You will stand here and wait." The day passed. Afternoon came. None came close to the nude as she stood, except when ordered to lift her up from the dirt after she fainted from the heat and fell to the ground. As dusk blacked the jungle around them, the only one who had spoken to her approached. "I am afraid," he said. "The one you seek has not yet arrived." Marla's tired face questioned the young gangster. "Yes, that means another night spent in there." He pointed to the tin box. "No...No!" Marla stumbled away, but other hands grabbed her shoulders and held tight. "No, please not there!" The horrors of the box burned in her mind and she struggled as she was forced down on her knees and shoved inside. Sobs wracked her body as she knelt hunched over as before. The heat was no longer as bad as before, but now her nudity made conditions even worse. Her sobbing finally dried as the night progressed. Buzzing mosquitoes swarmed and fed. Sometime, in the middle of the night she the buzzing seized and the hissing return. It alone brought chills. Marla gasped in the cramped container. Along her calf it started, and then began to slither up as it coiled around her thigh. She hardly breathed as she felt the snake's flicking tongue touch her pussy. Her eyes grimaced as the head probed more, and began to enter. She trembled all night long, shivering as the snake slithered between her lips and rested. It coiled inside, and she gagged as she felt herself accept its mass. "So, your are the Amerikana. We found you and those Peace Corp people last year." Marla lay inside the shanty. Blood-shot eyes looked about. Some feet from head sat muddy boots. The voice was different, but one she remembered from her past. She clenched her vagina. The snake was gone. "Surely," the voice said. "You have not forgotten me?" She cried out as her hair was yanked up. The boots belonged to Ernesto, the stocky one. Her heart pounded as her head was pulled up to face his knees. "Yes, yes. I know. You were hoping for the much younger and some would say handsomer Cuervo." Ernesto leaned forward from where he sat and glared into the woman's face as he held her strangled hair in his fist. "Unfortunately, Cuervo is no longer with us." He twisted the hair around in his fist. Tears welled in her eyes as her hair continued to be pulled. "But, I am here, and since you have paid for the pleasure...you will be my slave. Is that clear?" The brown-skinned leader enjoyed seeing the look of fright cross the White woman's face. His free hand swung and cuffed her temple, knocking her across the room. "IS IT?" Marla cried out as she was hit and slid. Frantically, she sought an escape. There seemed to be none. She gathered herself, wiped a hand across her lip and rose to her knees. "Very good," the bearded leader of Los Muerte Negros bellowed. "From now on, slave, you are to call me master, and spread those knees apart!" Strands of hair fell as she knelt and opened her thighs. "Yes...master." "Get those hands behind your head. Close your eyes. Tilt your head up!" "Y-y-yes master." Ernesto smiled down at his willing slave. Despite the tiny pink bites from mosquitoes covering her otherwise unblemished skin, her body remained fresh. He especially enjoyed the full tits and the small triangle between her parted thighs. Her obedience was clear as she dutifully followed his instructions and presented before him. This one, he thought, he would enjoy. Such a pity it was that Cuervo was not here he chuckled to himself. "I shall test you, slave. Open your mouth." Five more days passed as Marla served Ernesto. She cleaned his quarters, fed him so that he would never need to use his hands, and frequently served as his living foot-stool. There was also the sex. Marla worshipped his stubby, but thick cock, submitted to his penchant for anal, and praised his looks, although he was almost as ugly as Duarte. She always called him "master" One day, while he was away from the camp, she gathered fronds and entwined them around her hips.. The garland did not hide much, but gave some privacy from the stares of the other men. When Ernesto returned, however, he was furious to see that she had attempted to cover herself. He tore the leaves from her hips and swore at his slave's self-indulgence. "Tie the bitch up!" Marla was grabbed by others and taken to under a branch. Wrists bound, her arms were jerked up. Her feet dangled just off the ground. Ernesto called all of his men around to watch. He unbuckled his belt and cursed the hanging figure that dared to defy him. Old scars from last year were gray lines as they crossed the sculpted back. He would add new ones, and they would not be the same color. The first smack hit with such force, she swung in response. Ernesto was waiting for her body to swing back. He timed his second swing of the belt perfectly. Marla's head snapped back and her mouth opened for a piercing scream to the sky. Gathered jungle fighters watched as the female was hit again, and again by the belt. Ernesto's face was red with rage. He reversed his hold and whistled the belt's copper buckle through the air. More marks reddened, and then purpled as the female swung. Ernesto was hitting the Amerikana's tits. They bounced with each strike. She spun when the belt wrapped around a hip. And then the screaming stopped. The slave limply hung from the branch. Strands of darkened hair covered most of her lowered face. Marla sputtered awake. She choked on the dust. Around she saw the boots of many men. For the first time in days she felt clothed. Without moving her body, she felt the top and jeans, socks and boots were back on. Ernesto placed the sole of his boot behind her head and said, "Time for you to go, for now." Holding her head down, he continued, "Until you come back next year at this time, slave." Marla winced at the pressure of the boot on the back of her neck and heard Ernesto's voice behind her speaking. "Just so you remember, until then, whose property you now are," he said and reached for the corner of her shoulder. He tore apart a section of the light material and withdrew his dagger. His lips twisted as he saw the pale flesh. It yielded to the sharp point of the dagger. "I'm going to leave my initials...E....V." Marla screamed as the knife seared, but with her head held down, she could hardly move her upper body. She shrieked as the wounds were cauterized. "Get the bitch to her feet and take her from her, but," and he twisted Marla's head in his hands, don't ever come here wearing under-wear, slave." He grabbed one free tit. Were it not for the dirt smudge covering it, it would show through like its sister. He slapped the fullness from his hand. Marla staggered away from Ernesto as she was slapped, and would have fallen had not the guerilla she had met long ago held her up. He blindfolded her and then other men joined to lead her away. One of them looped rope around her sore wrists and bound them tightly. They walked in silence for some time. Marla stumbled along as best she could. Not being able to see and having her hands tied was nothing new: Suffering the pains from the whipping was. "We have gone enough. Put this in your mouth." Marla started at the whispered words of the guerilla. She opened her mouth and felt another rag tied around her head. She then felt herself lowered to the jungle floor. Hands removed her shoes and socks and her jeans. They left on the torn top. She struggled and shook her head from side to side. Strong hands held her tied ones behind her head. Other hands lifted her top and pawed her breasts. She arched her back as the first cock penetrated. More came. She stopped struggling. One after the other pawed her chest and fucked. Some lifted her legs. Others did not. Only human grunts could be heard in the jungle. She regained consciousness as hands pulled her back to her feet. She wobbled as they began hiking again. Marla no longer cared that she was now barefoot and bottomless. A familiar voice whispered in her ear. "I see what Ernesto likes in you, but consider yourself now diminished. I too shall await your return." The bedraggled naked female with the grimed top and group of banditos made their way back to the village. At the jungle's edge, Marla's gag and blind were removed. Without showing themselves, the men shoved her into the perimeter of the clearing. Marla staggered a few steps, and then fell. The enlarged flap of the torn top laid bare Ernesto's mark and also showed recent and past welts crossing ribs. She crawled closer to what appeared to be the old church. Exhaustion overwhelmed. Under half-lidded eyes, she saw the approach of dirty sandals. Barely able to raise her head off of the dirt, Marla saw they belonged to old women from the village. Had she cared, she might have recalled her treatment from the same women last year. Now she only wanted rescue. Marla felt herself being lifted. Two of the women were not so old. Each held Marla up under her thighs and carried her as if she was sitting. She wrapped an arm behind each neck and held on as she was carried like a queen. Another held up a water bag. Marla gulped. She didn't mind splashing some of it over her chin; the top it dripped on was already wet. Scratches gouged in the sides of her breasts and the small circle on top each globe was visible through the soaked cloth. Her nipples stood out. Some of them spoke in rapid tongue. Marla was brought between two wooden carts with rails on their sides. Rope caught each of her ankles and they were tied to the rails. Marla looked confused at the two that had carried her as her ankles were secured. Their blank faces did not answer back. Even their hands under her pulled away. She grabbed at the rails as the support left. Her shoulders strained. She used them to keep from falling head-first to the ground bellow. Training in the gym was nothing like this, but she was glad she had worked with the weights. Biceps and triceps further defined. The top rode up, exposing a sweaty navel and muscled stomach. Tight skin covering hip bones glistened brightly, the cropped patch of curls glimmered. Marla saw that bones weren't the only things glistening under the hot sun. Given her taxed position, her pussy parted. Inner pink folds blossomed forth with innocent vulnerability, oblivious to the threatening circumstances. Between the two carts her legs formed a "V" whose shallowness was determined by the closeness of the two carts. The carts parked side-by-side formed a sort of booth with an entrance at one end, and her at the other. Between her legs, Marla saw the first native woman enter. In her hand she held a sugar cane. Her shuddering arms gave out just as Marla realized that the approaching female was not that old. Her torso fell and head hit hard. Only her long legs, tied to the rails, rose high. Between them stood the other woman. She seemed to smile at Marla as she looked down. Her sore green eyes followed the reed as it was placed atop one of the cart rails. One eye stared at it while the other saw the young woman pull up her long peasant dress. Sturdy brown legs appeared. They led to a black patch of hair. She grazed her pubic hairs across Marla's. Delicate fingertips flitted over the White woman's mound, then down to her navel. Rough nails lightly clawed. Marla clamped her eyes shut at the other woman's touch. Muscles twitched a light kiss as it landed on her lower belly. Sweat drained down and pooled around the base of her neck. She felt her top slowly pulled back. Sun baked her abused tits. A moan escaped. Forgetting all about the cane she first was so intent upon, Marla moaned more as her head rolled. She felt fingers gently part her vaginal lips, and then slide up to tease her clitoris. Other fingers slid along her slick inner thighs. One hand lightly squeezed a boob. A thumb swayed a growing nipple from side to side. Marla came when fingers entered her. She cried out in ecstasy for the first time in a week. Thunderous waves of passion released. Lying in the dirt tied nearly upside-down between two carts in a foreign land at the hands of another woman following all sorts of horrors produced the most powerful orgasm of her life. Marla tried to sit up, and fell back down as wave, upon wave folded over her. Arms stretched far behind her as she lay panting in the warm dirt. Marla was racked with sobs of pleasure. She felt the first light slide of the sugar cane across her yawning pussy. It slid again, and then slowly slipped inside. Marla felt the reed slowly pull out, and then felt nothing, empty. Her eyes opened. Marla did not want it to leave. She saw the other had lowered her dress and stood between her parted legs holding the cane. The brown eyes now held a malicious gleam and the hand holding the cane slowly swung. The first hard hits were devastating. There was a whooshing sound as the rod swung and then a splat as it tortured wet lips. Marla's shiny belly beat faster. Naked boobs slapped as she was hit. The blows seemed to rain down harder. Spots began to form in her eyes. The woman was dragging her nails down Marla's inner thighs, and this time being none too gentle. Marla screamed in pain. An older villager replaced the first between the carts. She swung the twig she held hard across the cut and sweating tits, striking their undersides as Marla's position forced them to point in opposite directions from normal. She also swung at the open raw pussy. Her twig broke. It was replaced, and she swung again. A sea change occurred as the fresh twig was rammed in and out of Marla. She felt waves of another orgasm approaching. Marla closed her eyes. Her fingers clutched at and tore at the ground. The beatings continued, but then, so did more orgasms. They untied the unconscious woman's ankles and let her legs fall flat. Two women grabbed an ankle and pulled Marla across the village clearing. The new movement awakened Marla. The dragging stopped. She saw two of them kneel next to her. Hands lifted under her bottom while others bent her legs and placed her feet flat on the warm soil. She shook hair from her face and blinked. Villagers formed a tight circle above. Marla tried to move her arms, but they were held behind her. She started to ask what now? when the first bites came. Marla shrieked and writhed. Her ass lifted and pounded down. Hips twisted. The fire ants only got angrier as her gyrations disturbed their sandy hill. Bites increased in ferocity. Duarte drove back to the village late that afternoon. It was deserted, as before, but lying inert near a perimeter he spotted the Amerikana. He swung the wheel of his jitney over and got out just as the car stopped. He rushed over with a bag of fresh water. The crazy woman was still alive, she groaned as he rolled her onto her back. He wiped a wet cloth over her forehead and wet her lips more. Marla didn't know if she was in heaven, or not, but Duarte's ugly face above her looked like an angel's. She sipped more of the water. Her head rested back in the crook of his arm. Duarte used the wet cloth to clean as best he could more of the White woman. It was then that he saw her pussy. Little brown curls were made even smaller by the swollen lips. Bite marks were all over her, but especially there. He dabbed the area and pulled off the dirty top. He lifted the nude and carried her back to his car. Inside, he had thought to bring a fresh change. He propped Marla up on the side of his jitney and slipped the peasant dress over her head and let it drop to the middle of her lower legs. Duarte then set Marla in the passenger seat and went around to the driver's door. He got in, and they drove off. Marla didn't know how long she had slept in Duarte's car, but did remember being placed up front. She was now in the back seat. Duarte's bulk filled the open door as he entered. Putting a finger to his lips in a gesture Marla knew meant for her to be quiet, she watched mutely as Duarte rolled up the new dress she wore. Being naked again, even with an ugly person, no longer seemed of importance. Marla submitted as Duarte fucked her. Her head rolled to one side and she saw terraced fields outside of the dirty window. His grunts and body odor no longer disturbed. Her body moved once or twice as Duarte came inside of her, and then he pulled out, adjusted his pants and got behind the wheel. They drove once more toward the city. Marla laid her head back and rested. The air blowing across her face from the open window felt refreshing. She pushed the dress down to cover her legs and closed them. This year, she reminisced, she had done much to prepare. Next year she would have to do more. The End
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