Sacrifice to the Emerald God Page 3

  Diego looked down at the lovely, refined face of his captive. “Mi Dios,” he thought to himself, “I have won a great prize.” The smooth, graceful facial features of the blond woman he had shanghaied made him even more anxious to see the rest of her. Her hair was long, but the top of her head was still covered by her funny tourista hat. The broad, white straps tucked under her pleasantly round chin had prevented it being swept away like had happened to his lucky sombrero. They were still wrapped there, preventing him from getting a full appreciation of her delightful visage.

  “Take off your hat, signora,” Diego growled at her.

  Marjorie cringed at the man’s demand. It was just a hat, but his interest in her appearance was terrifyingly disconcerting. She watched as Diego flicked his thumb absent mindedly over the razor sharp blade in his hand. She tried to get the courage to speak to him, to beg for freedom. Surely they didn’t need her now that they had made their escape. But something about the man’s terrifying mien made her words die in her throat. She could offer them money. Tom could probably get within 24 hours more money than these men had ever seen in their life. The law firm would help too, if needs be. But on the other hand, she didn’t want the men to think she was rich. They might demand millions. And that Tom couldn’t get. No, it was better to play along for now. Do what the man said and hope for the best.

  The frightened woman finally released her death grip on her large, straw purse and slowly untied the broad strands of soft, white fabric that was tied around her neck, her eyes fastened to the now shaded eyes of the bandit. When it was loose, she pulled the straw chapeau from her head and handed it to him.

  “Gracias, mi doňa,” the man said with false politeness. He took the hat in his hand and made a motion to toss it into the quickly speeding by river and then seemed to think better of it. He placed it on his head. It was two sizes to small for him, but he was able to make it stay by mashing it down and stretching the straw fabric. His appearance was now a bizarre imitation of the young woman’s former mien.

  “Look at me, compadres,” he shouted out. “I’m a gringa tourista!” He laughed heartily, flicking the loose ends of the broad white cloth descending from its brim over his shoulders like Greta Garbo in Grand Hotel. He then looked down at Margie. “How do I look, enamorada?” he said to Margie, leaning over and putting his face dangerously close to hers. The young woman was too frightened to respond. His appearance was like a gross caricature of all the cartoons she had ever seen depicting a Mexican bandido. But Diego didn’t really expect an answer. He liked to watch the fear in his victims’ eyes while he taunted them. This chica was going to be a lot of fun.

  He took his hot, strong hand and placed it on Margie’s thigh. Margie cringed as she felt his fingers dig into her flesh. She wanted to brush them off, to move away from the ominous man, but she was paralyzed with fear. The large, heavy, vice-like hand began to move upwards on her leg, dragging the thin cotton cloth of her long, multicolored peasant’s skirt along with it. Margie gave out a quiet whine as she realized that the man was not going to stop until he had seen all of her charms. He was watching her eyes as the skirt slid northwards, exposing her freshly shaved shin and then her knee. She was lying on her hip, her other leg underneath her, but the skirt was loose enough that it could be raised all the way to her waist.

  When the hem of the skirt started to climb up her pale, white thigh, Margie decided it was time to act. It seemed to her that she had a choice of risking the fast moving water of the river with its alligators and other dangers, and hazarding an escape into the thick jungle which now closed over the river on either side, or to suffer whatever this man and his friends had in mind for her. They would rape her, she was sure of that. Probably all three of them many times. She could live through that, she guessed. But what would they do with her afterwards? She had a vision of her naked and broken body rotting somewhere on the jungle floor, a feast for carrions, or tumbling lifelessly along the river current until an alligator fished her out for his dinner. They might hold her for ransom, but who was to say that they would deliver her back to Tom and the civilized world alive? Why risk it? These weren’t the efficient, business like kidnappers she had heard about in Mexico or Colombia, whose reputation would suffer if they didn’t deliver the goods. These were bottom crawlers, criminals of the worst sort who lived from day to day, from crime to crime, and damn the consequences.

  Marjorie moved her leg slightly, revealing an expanse of the pale, tender, inner thigh of her bottom leg. As she had anticipated, the bandit’s gaze turned towards the enticing patch of flesh. And then she made her move.

  The desperate woman gave the bandit’s body a hard shove, or at least as hard as she was capable of. The man fell slightly to his right, off balance. Scrambling up, she drew back her knee and gave him a frantic kick with her foot, making his body topple over. Seeing her chance, she then turned and began to climb frantically over the side of the speeding raft.

  Diego was taken by surprise by the enterprising gringa. The force of her foot made him lean far over. His right hand released the knife that had won him his liberation and touched the bottom of the boat. He saw the gringa spin her body and jump up to the side of the small raft. He knew what she was doing immediately. Diego didn’t consider himself a fate worse than death, but there had been a little, black haired chinga who had thrown herself out of a third floor window in Porto Vaca rather than be blessed with his charms. And the blond mujer was in much more trouble than her.

  But these thoughts flashed through Diego’s animalistic, reactive mind in a flash. Without taking a moment to think about it, he pushed himself up with his right hand and leapt at the fleeing, blond prize, whipping his left hand towards her. She was already half way out of the boat, but he was just able to circle his mighty fist around her left ankle.

  “Nooooooo! Nooooooo!” Margie cried as she felt the iron grip of the outlaw imprison her leg. She yanked at it two, three times in feeble attempts to free it. As she felt herself being dragged back into the boat, her hands clawed at the smooth, round surface of the inflatable craft without finding purchase. She felt her breasts slide over the surface of the raft’s gunwale and then, to her added dismay, as her bright orange tube top was dragged along, her ample, soft, round mounds sprung free.

  Frantic and panicked, Margie whirled around and started to scratch and claw at her captor. “Nooooooo! Nooooooo!” she screamed again and again. She could feel her naked breasts swing freely as she struggled. “Let me go! Let me go!” she yelled helplessly.

  Diego grabbed the wild, delirious woman by her hair and shook her mightily. “You fucking cunt!” he yelled at her. He stopped shaking her head long enough to give her a mighty slap across her face. Her face turned beet red where he struck her and her head turned sharply on her neck in reaction to the blow.

  “Ahhhhhhhhhh! Please! Please! Let me go!” Margie continued to scream as the brutal man struck her again. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” she moaned tearfully.

  Diego threw the woman to the bottom of the boat and put his foot in the middle of her back pressing down with all of his weight. He put his hand to his face and then removed it. Blood! The fucking bitch had scratched him! He took his foot off of her back long enough to give her a vicious kick in the ribs. “You fucking cunt!” he shouted at her again.

  Marjorie had lost all semblance of coping with her dire straights. She was sobbing heavily, sure that she had lost her best chance at escape and sure that the man now would treat her more brutally than he would have before. Her face and bare breasts were squashed down against the floorboards of the raft. There was a small amount of river water that had collected there from the spray resulting from their sprint up the river and her body was getting soaked. She groaned with acute pain when the man kicked her and tried to curl up into a little ball. Diego’s heavy foot resumed its place in the middle of her spine and she was once again mashed into the wet, slimy, wooden slats.

  “Oh, please don’t hurt me please again, ple
ase!” she cried out in English. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

  Diego was having none of that. This bitch needed tying up, he thought. “And then we’ll see what I can do to make her pay.”

  A good bandit will always plan ahead. Before, when he was about to throw the woman’s hat into the river, he had taken notice of the long, white band of cloth on it. He knew that he would have to tie the cunt up sooner or later and there was no rope that he knew of on their little craft. He was sorry that he hadn’t kept the handcuffs that he had removed back in the town after killing the policemen, but who was to know he would have a beautiful, blond prisoner on his trip to freedom? Nonetheless, the cotton fabric from her hat would do nicely. Besides, tying a woman up was more fun that clapping some cold, machine made steel on her wrists.

  He stripped the ribbon of cloth from the hat and then pulled the wide brimmed, straw boater back over his head. He crouched down next to the sobbing, flailing woman and after replacing the foot that had pinned her to the floor of the raft with his knee, took hold of one of her delicate wrists. It was easy to fasten one end of the long, white cloth around it. The woman seemed to understand what was happening because her crying and struggling became just a little more intense.

  Diego took the wrist that he had captured and bent it up the woman’s back until she gave out a loud moan of pain. “Don’t fuck with me, conchita!” he yelled at her. “I’ll break your fucking arm!”

  “Okay! Okay!” Margie yelled back desperately. The man’s knee pressed painfully on her back and her shoulder and arm ached woefully. She did not resist when Diego took hold of her other wrist and joined it to the first. She felt him make several circuits of her joined wrists horizontally and vertically and then tie them off tightly. A wave of unhappiness and despair flowed through her as she realized that she was now defenseless against the man. She tugged at the bindings that kept her wrists crisscrossed together behind her and knew that no effort of her own would ever get them free.

  “Oh, Tom! Tom!” she thought desperately. She doubted whether he would even know what had happened to her yet. He was probably still sleeping peacefully in their bed, or, if awake, lying there lazily awaiting a resumption of their passionate lovemaking when she returned. What would he do when he found out that she had been kidnapped? She didn’t know. But she prayed that whatever it was it would be quick and effective. She knew that the longer she was held prisoner by these criminals, the worse things would get.

  Diego looked down at his bound captive. Her fingers writhed prettily in her bonds, seemingly, unwittingly, issuing to him an invitation to partake of her delectable flesh. He saw a little sparkle on her left hand and realized that it was a large diamond ring. Why the gods were so good to him he did not know. The ring alone would bring a small fortune. Between him and his associates, he doubted that they had more than 100,000 bolivars. He knew he didn’t have any because what he had had was appropriated from him when he had been captured. What had started out bad, his capture and near hanging, had turned into a bonanza. The men who had been killed when the army came upon their camp were useless pieces of shit and their deaths had been no loss. Now he had a boat, two relatively efficient compadres, a beautiful, gringa whore and a diamond ring.

  He leaned over and began to pry the sparkling jewel off of Margie’s finger. She felt his fingers tugging at it and she gave a moan of dismay. “Not my ring!” she thought miserably. She tried to clamp her hand shut to deny the bandit his prize, but a fierce cuff on the head dissuaded her from further resistance. With a little tug, the expensive, 14 carat gold band with the 24 carat diamond slid off of her finger.

  “Ahhhhhhhh,” Diego declaimed to himself as he examined the large, sparkly stone, his knee still cruelly pressing down on the supine woman’s back. There was no need for his compadres to know about this, he thought. He stuffed it into his pant’s pocket.

  And now to finish securing his whore. There was a good three feet of white cloth left after he had tied off the woman’s slender wrists. He grabbed one of her ankles and pulled it towards her bound hands. He quickly and efficiently wrapped the band of fabric around it and then brought the other ankle up to meet it. In a trice, it was joined with the first and tied off securely. He connected the end of the cloth to her wrists and then leaned back to admire his workmanship. The woman’s skirt had ridden up on her graceful, pale thighs almost all the way to her ass and he was pleased at what he saw. She was still wearing her cute little sandals and they flailed in the air as the woman tried to come to terms with her plight. But what he really wanted was to see was her tits.

  The broad shouldered, muscular man lifted Margie from the bottom of the boat by taking hold of her long, reddish blond hair and pulling her up to her knees. The woman screamed and protested from the pain. Her face was wild with fear. Her orange top was pulled up over her lovely, pale, full breasts and they swayed prettily as the woman tried to get her balance.

  “Ahhhhhhh, lovely lady, you have been hiding your charms from me,” he said tauntingly. He placed his free hand under Margie’s left breast and squeezed and weighed it as he held her head still by the hair with the other. “What delicious tits, signora. Does your husband like to suck on them? Such bonita chichis should be out in the open getting air, mi conchita, not all hidden away. Hey Manuelo!” the bandit cried out to the man at the rear of the raft, “How do you like these guapa frutas, eh?” Diego, his hand still gripping Margie’s hair tightly, turned her body so that her bared, heavy, round breasts could be fully appreciated by the skinny, lecherous looking man. He gave a broad smile of appreciation and yelled something back. Diego then jerked her around and displayed her to the man in the front. “Quite a prize, eh, Pepe?” he asked him jauntily.

  Marjorie struggled in the man’s fierce grasp. She was mortified that her treasures were being so brazenly displayed to and assayed by the men in the small boat. Her arms were pulled back behind her by the force of the cruel hogtie and her arched shoulders made her twin delights press out invitingly. The fearsome bandit turned her head again so that she was facing him. His hand was still on her breast, squeezing it harshly and lifting it up free of her torso.

  “Do your tits taste as good as they look, chica?” the man asked her, his golden teeth shining brightly amidst his toothy grin. “Let me find out, eh?” He lowered his thick, greasy lips to Margie’s nipple and subsumed it between them. He sucked on the teat harshly, drawing in the entire areola. Margie moaned and squirmed in the man’s grasp. “Please don’t!” she whined pitifully. “Please!”

  Marjorie hated everything that was happening to her, could think of no worse fate that could befall her, and yet the ministrations of the man’s lips and foul tongue to her sensitive nipple created a slight, familiar pulling in her loins. Her mind protested against her body’s reaction to her abuse. She tightened her thighs in a futile attempt to fight off her unwanted and incongruous, incipient passion.

  Diego shifted his attention to Margie’s other teat. He sucked long and hard on it, running his tongue over the hardened nipple while he cupped and massaged her other breast in his broad, strong hand. “Ahhhhhh!” Margie screamed in protest. “Stop it, please! Don’t do that, please!”

  Diego released the delicious nipple from his mouth and looked up at the protesting, young woman. He face was lined with anger. There was nothing he hated more than a caterwauling crica. “Shut your mouth, whore!” he yelled at her. He reared his right hand back and slapped her viciously across the breasts. “Ohhhhhh!” Margie yelled as she felt the hot pain across her tender skin. She called out again, “Ohhhhhhhhhhh!” when he slapped her flailing breasts again with his returning back hand.

  The bandit was pissed. It seemed like this cunt would never shut up. Well there was a remedy for this too. He reached down to the bottom of the boat and retrieved the finely honed knife that he had dropped there when the bitch had kicked him. He brought it up and took hold of the scrunched up, orange tube top that was wound around the woman’s chest. With a
flick of his wrist, he sliced through it cleanly.

  “Please, please,” Marjorie continued. She knew the man wanted her quiet, but something inside her had snapped and she could not control herself. “My husband has money!” she said desperately. “He’ll pay you! Just please don’t hurt me, please! “I’ll be goo…,” she started to say, but the bandit had taken the now torn orange top and drawn it roughly across her mouth. He circled it around her head pulling it tight. The broad cloth cut between Margie’s lips stretching her mouth into a grotesque grimace. He wrapped it around her face two more times and then tied it off behind her head.

  The frightened, panicked woman was now effectively gagged. She gave a shrill whine and shook her head frantically in a futile attempt to cast the offensive garment off. The bandit stilled her motions by grabbing her hair behind her head and holding her fast. “Now I can suck on your tits in peace, puta,” he told her, grinning lewdly. He bent his head down and took possession of Margie’s, thick, hard nipple once again. This time he circled his massive arms behind her back and drew her body tightly against him as he suckled harshly at her teat. Margie could feel his hot hands on her naked back. The sensation of his rough appendages, his hard, strong body pressed against hers and the workings of the hungry lips and active tongue on her nipple began to stimulate her lust.

  “Noooooo!” Margie tried to protest, but her ejaculation of dismay emerged only as a muffled sound. She looked towards the front of the boat and saw that the man there was leering passionately at the display before him. She closed her eyes to blot him out and heard him say something that she couldn’t make out in her distress and then laugh heartily.

  When one of the bandit’s large, forceful hands left her back and transferred to her thigh, Marjorie felt an empty place open in her stomach. The hand pulled at her skirt, inching it up higher and higher until the hem was up around her waist. She could feel the roughness of the man’s tattered garments on the smooth, silky skin of her upper leg. “Ohhhhhhhh!” she moaned unhappily. The man’s body arched and she felt his hand cross her belly and pull her skirt up on the other side of her. She knew what he wanted. He wanted access to her precious, private place. Once he had revealed it to his view, she knew, there would be no stopping him. She pressed her thighs together tightly as the hand rubbed over her taut, sensitive lower belly and inside the gusset of her pretty, bright yellow, bikini panties.