Sacrifice to the Emerald God (24 page)
When he finally spoke, Margie jumped in surprise. His words were drawn out and deliberate as if he had to search for them one by one.
“Hable Espaňol?” he asked her in his gravelly voice.
Margie, exhilarated to hear a familiar tongue, nodded her head eagerly. Maybe all was not lost after all.
The man nodded his head back at her. “Many years ago, when I was a young man and stupid, I traveled down to where the Spaniards live. I thought I would learn more about the white man’s world and I did to my unhappiness. They made me their prisoner and forced me to work on a plantation. There were many there just like me and we were treated like slaves. They whipped and beat us and kept us in chains. They had raided some villages and they had taken the women for their own, using them for their pleasure. Many of us died. I escaped one night with two others. The Spaniards hunted us down with their horses and dogs. My friends were killed, hung by their wrists from trees with fires lit under them. I had been struck by one of the bullets from their guns, here,” the man explained as he lifted his bony right hand to his left shoulder. “And they thought that I was dead. I listened to the screams of my friends throughout the night.”
The old man paused as if reliving the painful memory. He closed his eyes and his body swayed slightly. Then he resumed.
“I came back to my people and told them of the cruelty of the Spaniards. I vowed never to go back there and to kill each and every Spaniard I ever saw again as cruelly as my friends had been killed. That was many years ago. Our tribe has been pushed farther and farther into the forest. We killed some of the Spaniards who came to find us, but always more came.”
He paused again as if reliving the bitter memories. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Years ago, we came to this place and no Spaniards have ever found it. The people have need of the things that the Spaniards grow and make and there was a time when they traded with them with pelts of the pumas and other animals that lived in abundance among them. But when we moved here, the animals did not follow us. And the Spaniards had killed many of them off anyway. And so now, we trade these green stones that we found here and that the Spaniards lust for.”
The old man lifted the small sack that the other man had handed him and shook it lightly so that the stones inside clicked together. He reached behind him and pulled a large, wooden bowl from a shelf along the wall. To Margie’s amazement, it was full of bright, shiny emeralds. The bowl was at least ten inches wide and several inches deep, and the glittery stones filled it to the brim. He dumped the leftover stones from the trading into it and put the bowl back behind him.
He continued his lecture to the bound and stupefied woman in front of him.
“The people wanted to trade them with the Spaniards. I was against it. I knew that the Spaniards would lust after our stones, that they would try and come here and take all of them from us and kill us or make us their slaves. But people are foolish and will believe what they want to believe. They think that they are clever and that the Spaniards will never find us. I know that this is not true and that someday they will come here with their guns and take what they want. I pray that it will not be in my lifetime.”
The old man now looked at Margie with an intense ferocity. “And now you have come here! Why did the white men sell you to us? They never have done this before. I know how they treasure the flesh of their women and I do not think that they would ever give one up unless it was for a great profit, for I know that they love the green stones more than they love their lives. You are a danger to my people, a terrible omen! You should be carved open and the parts of your body scattered in the four directions! You heart and liver should be burnt over the fire and fed to our dogs!”
The old man’s voice was filled with his venomous hatred of the men who had enslaved him and killed so many. His hands were balled into fists and his knuckles had turned white. His brown face had reddened. Margie quailed at his statement and had begun to cry in fear. It was just as she had imagined it. Her life would soon end in a terrible, ceremonial torture. A great void opened up in her belly and her throat was dried from her terrified angst. She wanted to beg the man to let her live, promise that she would do anything that he wanted, but he had not removed her gag and was disinterested in anything that she had to say.
All of a sudden, the man’s body relaxed once again and his voice became calm and smooth. “But it seems that the people want you. They value your golden hair and your pale skin. You are a great totem to them, an omen of plenty and good fortune for the village, they say. And so, I will let you live. You will be their slave, and you will use your body to please them. But if you bring bad luck to our village, or if the Spaniards come, I will make sure that your death will be long and painful. Do you understand?”
Marjorie, tears flowing down her face, relieved and yet fearful of the man’s threats, nodded energetically. The man looked at her and then clapped his hands loudly. An older, heavy set woman came in and, at his instructions, took hold of the rope that led from her collar and pulled her from the hut.
A small crowd of women were waiting for her when she emerged. They giggled and clapped their hands excitedly as the unhappy captive was towed across the hardened dirt of the compound towards another, larger hut. Some of the men had followed them and the women laughed and pushed them away. After dragging the fearful white woman inside, they closed the door.
There were, altogether, about fifteen of the naked, brown skinned women gathered together in the hut. They seemed to range in age mostly from about forty to their late teens. There were three older women, with long streaks of grey in their hair and flaccid, dug like breasts. The women chatted excitedly as they brought their captive to the center of the hut and made her kneel on its hard, dirt floor.
A myriad of hands stroked and caressed Margie’s pale body. Hands tugged through her knotted hair and played with the shiny, brass collar around her neck. To the captive woman’s dismay, one of the women leaned over and took one of her teats in her mouth, sucking at it energetically and circling it with her tongue, until it stood upright and stiff. She leaned back and pointed out her accomplishment to the other women, laughing merrily. Another woman, encouraged by the first, took the nipple of Margie’s other breast in her mouth and toyed and played with it with her tongue and lips until the two teats matched.
The three older women just knelt in front of Margie and watched. The one in the middle had a ring of colorful beads around her neck and tattoos of some strange design across her chest and over her breasts. Her face was wrinkled and her hands were thin and boney. Margie stared at the woman and felt a strange power in her. Her throat thickened and her belly soured as she felt the woman’s mind piercing hers. Whatever happened to her, Margie felt that this woman would have a lot to say about it.
One of the women who had been running her hands through Margie’s long, strawberry blond hair turned to the old woman and said something to her. There was a supplicative, hopeful tone to the musical, guttural sounds of her speech. The old woman smiled at whatever suggestion had been made and apparently answered the young woman to her satisfaction.
The women continued to stroke and caress Margie’s, to them, strange, colorless flesh. Her knees were spread and a young, pretty, woman, hardly beyond her girlhood, with large, black eyes and thin lips, seemingly encouraged by the other woman, tentatively placed her hand between her thighs. Margie stiffened when she felt the girl’s hand trace softly over her denuded nether lips. She had not been shaved there in days and, feeling the stubble of Margie’s resurgent pubic growth, the young woman withdrew her hand sharply, a look of astonishment and surprise on her face. The other women all laughed and shouted out more words of encouragement. The girl, giggling, slipped her hand back between the unhappy, white woman’s thighs and gently laid it upon her delicate mons.
Slowly, the girl began to work her slender, sensitive fingers over Margie’s lower lips. Two of the women had taken up positions to the side and slightly behind Margie and they took hold of her firm, pale, heavy breasts and began stroking and caressing them. Margie felt her blood begin to rise. The fingers entered her and began to ply themselves along the sides of her cleft. Margie moaned with unhappiness and incipient pleasure. The thought of resisting the women’s abuse of her arose momentarily, but she remembered the shaman’s sinister words to her. She realized that her life depended upon pleasing her captors. If they found her wanting, she would suffer a horrible fate. She was a slave now, in the truest sense of the word. She sobbed once as the fact of that truth came home to her. She was probably hundreds of miles from civilization. She would never be saved.
The girl was skillfully raising Margie’s lust with her hand. Another of the young women jealously pushed the first girl aside and took her place. Her strokes were more determined and confident and as she rubbed on the hardened point of pleasure above her leaking love lips, Margie gave out a low, anguished groan of lust.
At that signal, small, strong hands pulled Margie’s torso back until the back of her head was on the dirt floor. Her thighs strained as she was bent over backwards. Her cruel, wooden gag was untied from behind her head and she felt soft, strong thighs on either side of her face. One of the women had mounted her. Margie looked up to see a brown, lustful, pretty face peering upside down at her, shrouded by long, black, shiny hair. The young woman’s small, conical breasts were pointy and her nipples hard with anticipation of her pleasure. She smiled at her captive and then turned and said something to the other women who laughed and shouted encouragement. The young girl then leaned forwards and Margie felt the hairless folds of the girl’s sex slip across her face and settle on her recently freed mouth.
Margie moaned a protest and sealed her lips together in vain attempt at avoiding the abuse of her mouth by the young woman’s pussy. The girl was mashing her pudenda on Margie’s mouth and the supine white woman could feel its moisture spread over her lips and face. Displeased with her lack of cooperation, the black haired girl leaned back and gave Margie’s face a sharp slap while at the same time uttering a harsh command. Resigned to her mouth’s abuse, when the soft, hairless pussy settled once more on her face, Margie dutifully opened her lips and, extending her tongue, began to gemauch the moist, hot gash above her.
Margie moaned and cried as she pleasured the girl’s hot crack. The girl was moving her hips and the pungent tasting slit slid back and forth over Margie’s obediently active tongue and lips. The hand that was pleasuring the captive woman’s slash abandoned her only to be replaced by hot, energetic lips. Margie could feel her anonymous assailant’s hands on the fronts of her thighs and her slick hair brushing along their soft, tender inner portions. Despite her unhappiness at being forced to pleasure the active, flowing cunt above her, Margie’s passions continued to grow. The tongue that licked at her fevered puss drove her lusts higher and higher. Her assailant’s lips shifted to her stiffened pleasure bud, sucking on it long and hard as her tongue flitted across it. Margie arched her extended back and her hands writhed in their confinements at her neck. The musky smell and the pungent taste of the woman’s soft, mushy cleft above her made her mind swoon as she began to deliriously pleasure it. She was about to burst into an explosion of lust when the mouth between her thighs slowed and then stopped. Margie moaned with need as hands gently rubbed her thighs and fingers played teasingly across her love lips, letting her pussy’s fires ebb, but not go out.
The girl who rode Margie’s lips called out loudly and began to drive her cunt hard against Margie’s mouth. The white woman felt the girl’s thighs tense against the sides of her head and could taste a flood of the girl’s juices flow over her lips. The girl’s body shook as she thrust her hips back and forth, determined to enjoy every single throb of her climax and to maximize the friction of her prisoner’s helpless lips against her throbbing slit.
When the girl atop her was finished, she was replaced by another. As soon as the new woman began to rock her hips over Margie’s mouth, the tongue between the white woman’s thighs renewed its assault.
Later, Margie tried fruitlessly to remember how many of the women took their enjoyment atop her. She knew that she had come three times. She did not know whether the lips and tongues between her thighs belonged to a single one of the merry, native women, or whether more than one of them had enjoyed supping at the gates of her womb. Her orgasms were explosive, causing her body to shudder and quake and bringing immense enjoyment to whichever of the lusty, brown skinned women was riding her at the time.
Finally, the old woman who seemed to be their leader clapped her hands loudly and the other women brought their assault on the pretty, white, slave woman to a halt. Margie lay back, exhausted. Her pussy burned and her mouth and lips were sore. A coating of pungent, orgasmic slime covered her face. She was lifted back to her knees and she moaned with relief as the pressure on her back and thighs was eased.
Having satisfied their curiosity over and their lusts on the body of the white captive, the women began to sidle out of the hut. Only the three older women and two of the younger ones remained. The leader, or priestess, which Margie later decided was more a appropriate title, instructed the younger women who nodded respectfully and then brought Margie to her feet. They unfastened her battered and dirty sandals and, after examining them curiously, cast them aside. One of them led her from the hut by her leash while the other carried a bowl of ashes behind her.
