The Ultra Woman Universe
Friday, November 14, 2014
More AmAzInG gifts from the wonderful and generous Furbs. One of my two favorite people!! Poor Talia is arrowed again and his alternate universe version of my own villainess Sable!!!
Thursday, November 13, 2014
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
A few more pictures of my favorite Amazon Talia from my favorite artist in the world Furbs3D. Go check out his deviant art. GO NOW!!!!
Thanks again Furbs! Love ya!!!
http://furbs3d.deviantart.com/
Thanks again Furbs! Love ya!!!
http://furbs3d.deviantart.com/
Thursday, August 21, 2014
Jungle Babe by Soul In Shadow chapter 7
Jungle
Babe - In the Clutches of Cernunnos
by Soul
in Shadow (soul.in.shadow@gmail.com)
Chapter
8: Myst, part 1
Author's
Note: Special thanks to Sable Myst over at ultrawomanuniverse.blogspot.com for
graciously letting me borrow her eponymous villainess for these chapters. She's
been a fantastic resource for this story, and I absolutely recommend that
anyone who enjoys my writing check out her work. It's just awesome. Also, I
have to credit Hell of a Critic for the idea of the flashback. OK! Back to the
debauchery!
---------------
Jungle
Babe and Anna had been making decent progress; they had left the clearing with
ample motivation to move as quickly as possible, and the forest had finally,
mercifully begun to thin. They were approaching the outer edge of the hilly
terrain making up the central spine of the Beast's realm, and here the
grotesque trees were giving way to rocky outcroppings and a gravelly soil.
Without the oppressive omnipresence of those pale, twisted shapes laden with
their web of flaccid vines, Jungle Babe had actually started feeling her
spirits starting to rise. It would be far too easy to let the respite of
finally escaping the hellish nightmare-scape of the corrupted woods lull them
into a sense of false security though; they had to remain alert, ever-vigilant.
They were entering the heart of the monster's realm now, and there was no
telling what horrors awaited them.
But
just as she felt the spring re-enter her step and the fire of determination
stoke itself brighter in her chest, there was a sudden rumbling in the skies
above. Dark clouds had gathered overhead, and lightning flashed in the creases
of the tumultuous roil. Dana felt the first few droplets splash in warning
against her bare skin, surprisingly cold.
A
moment later, and it really began to rain.
Jungle
Babe sighed, closing her eyes and raising her face to greet the falling shower.
She shivered a little as the breeze picked up, but welcomed the sensation of
the cool water against her pale skin. Maybe it was just the exertion from
pushing through the forest, or some lingering effect from her encounter with
that bitch of a Bat, but she'd been feeling increasingly winded, her body
almost feverish. The rain was almost soothing.
She was
reminded of the countless times she'd experienced the same thing deep in her
beloved jungles, where the heat and humidity could get so overwhelming that
even breathing seemed an obstacle. But then the rains would come, and for a few
precious moments she could enjoy feeling the world cleansing itself.
I could
use that right about now, she thought ruefully to herself; a good downpour, a
really solid soaking...if only to get the oily cling of the forest mist off her
skin.
A
little behind her, she heard Anna yelp in alarm, and looked back to see her
trying to shield the ancient, leather-bound book she carried with her own
hunched body. She frowned, feeling a twinge of regret. As much as she might
enjoy it, there was no way they could stay exposed for long. For one, that book
was about their only shot at victory. And secondly...
Dana
looked at her young companion, and found herself almost...admiring how the last
few hours had changed her so drastically. Without the large-ish sweater and
leggings to mask it, Anna's lithe form looked positively stunning. The girl
certainly had a figure! But more than that though, Dana found herself feeling
more and more outright respect for her tenacity. The things they had endured,
and the awfulness she had seen firsthand, would have sent almost anyone else
into a cowering ball, and yet this girl, as young and inexperienced as she was,
seemed to thrive under duress.
Even
now, with her rain-soaked hair falling into her eyes and plastering what little
remained of her clothing to her body, she wasn't preparing to bolt for cover.
She was watching Dana, waiting for her to make a decision. Jungle Babe felt
sure that if she insisted they press on, the young woman would agree without a
single complaint.
Young,
strong, and brave to a fault, Dana observed quietly; what more could she ask
for?
"We
need to find shelter," Jungle Babe remarked, "Wait out the storm.
With all these outcroppings, there ought to be someplace nearby."
Anna
nodded, and the two quickly made for the hilly rocks. At first, Dana feared
that she was mistaken, that they were still too far from the larger range to
find anything suitable and that they would be forced to retreat back into the
trees, but after a few harried, wet moments, she heard Anna shout for her
attention.
"Up
there!" she said, gesturing up a hill close by. Jungle Babe followed her
motions and saw the dark opening in the crags. They switched course, striding
up the embankment towards the gap. The rain was coming down even harder now,
making the steep slope trecherously slick, but they managed it with only a few
brief slips. By the time they reached the summit and plunged into the opening,
they were both soaked to the bone, and breathing hard.
The gap
opened up into a small cave, maybe eight feet high and just a little over half
that again at its widest point, but it was dry, and that was the most important
thing. Anna stumbled inside, dropping the heavy book as she collapsed to her
hands and knees, totally out of breath.
Jungle
Babe fell to a knee beside her, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder.
"You ok?"
"Um,
yeah," Anna gasped, smiling wanly, "I'm--I'm just not in shape like
you are. God, that climb was a bitch."
Dana
found the girl's spirit contagious. She chuckled, helping her to her knees.
"You did great, and you were carrying that gigantic book. Lose the
handicap and you might have beat me up here." She nodded at the fallen
volume, "Is that thing ok? Did the rain get to it?"
Anna
crawled over, and gingerly examined the ancient leather text. After running her
hands cautiously along the covers, spine, and unclasping the lock to flip
through a few pages, she exhaled, clearly relieved. "It seems ok. A little
damp, but it's been preserved ridiculously well, and the clasp held it together
tight enough that the water doesn't seem to have done much to the pages."
She nodded, setting it back on the ground, "I'd like to review it a bit
before we start off again. I need to make sure I understand the incantation
Grandfather told us about."
"And
you think you can do it?" Dana asked, hoping her measured tone didn't
betray the uncertainty she felt. Anna didn't answer right away; the girl's face
had become a silent mask.
"I...think
so," she said finally, her shoulders slumping. "I've been taught this
stuff all my life. I've even managed a few of the simpler incantations. Nothing
major, of course, but a few small spells; for good luck, to help a sick child,
that sort of thing. I...um, I've never had to seal a demon away before..."
Seeing
the self-doubt starting to worm its way into the poor girl's resolve, Dana
gently pulled her up by her shoulders, and looked her square in the eyes.
"You're
a hell of a lot stronger than you realize," she said softly, "If
there's a way to do it, I am certain you'll figure it out. I believe in you,
Anna."
The
naked praise left the young woman speechless. She blinked, blushing furiously,
and had to look away. "T-thanks. I'll do my b-best."
The
wind was picking up outside, and even though the cave was partially protected
from the gusts, the temperature was still dropping precipitously. Anna was
starting to shiver, and Jungle Babe herself felt the cold starting to creep
into her bones. She glanced around the cave; there was some underbrush that had
been blown in over the years, but nothing substantial enough to build a fire
with. Besides, it would be too risky; a flame could be seen for miles, and the
last thing she wanted to do was to telegraph their position to anyone, or
anything, roaming the area. They'd just have to make do without one.
"Come
on, let's get away from the entrance," she said, ushering Anna further
into the cave, "That wind is biting."
They
sat with their backs against the cool stones, listening to the wind howl,
hearing the rain splatter against the rocks outside. Anna's shivering was only
getting worse, and Dana herself was starting to tremble. She rubbed her arm,
but it didn't help much. Her costume was like a heat sink, leeching the warmth
from her, and Anna was wearing significantly more by comparison.
She
cleared her throat, "Um...we ought to get out of these wet clothes.
They're doing us more harm than good at this point."
Anna's
head snapped up, her eyes going wide. "W-what? I mean, um, are you
s-s-sure?"
"'Fraid
so," she sighed, standing up. Trying to maintain her dignity, she turned
around, and unfastened her sodden bra before slipping out of the rest of her
costume. She wrung them out before laying them flat against the rocks. All the
while, she was mindful of Anna's gaze following her every movement, and felt
again that spark of warmth she'd felt for the girl after their ordeal in the
clearing. Knowing that Anna was watching her, that she was looking at her every
curve, made her feel...excited, almost nervous.
God, get
a hold of yourself, Dana, she frowned. Stay focused. You have a mission to
worry about.
when
she noticed Anna still hadn't moved, Jungle Babe motioned for her to get up.
"Come on, I'm not kidding. The last thing you want is for hypothermia to
set in. If it makes you feel any better, I'll turn around." She did.
"See?"
"I-I'm
sorry," Anna murmured sheepishly, slowly getting to her feet. "I know
it's s-s-silly, I'm just not u-used to being n-naked around other people.
Even--even after...you know...all that..."
Dana
felt for her embarrassment, but could only nod quietly in acknowledgement. She
kept herself facing the stone wall while Anna disrobed, listening as the woman
removed her makeshift top, and the remaining tatters of her leggings, before
wringing them out just as Dana had done. She heard a brief shuffle of activity
before Anna called out, "Ok, you can turn around now."
Dana
did, and saw her huddled back against the wall, knees to her chest, hugged
close in a tight embrace. Her auburn hair was a mess, and spilled around her
face wildly. She was blushing even more furiously than she had been a moment
ago, if that was even possible. She seemed to be trying to focus on
something--anything--other than the statuesque, blonde Amazon standing naked
before her, but her eyes kept furtively darting back.
And if
she was totally honest with herself, Dana felt a twinge of pride at how the
girl was reacting. And for her part, Dana found herself appreciating Anna, too;
the girl really was pretty cute.
Jungle
Babe returned to her seat, sitting across the cave from Anna. They tried to
pass the time with small talk, but given recent events, they soon both fell
silent; wrestling with their own feelings seemed to be distracting enough, and
the silence was actually kind of nice. Dana focused on her breathing, and
concentrated on getting the blood flowing through her extremities. She'd
learned a long time ago how she could best deal with a chill, and went about it
in an absent-minded, almost mechanical way.
Anna,
however, had no such experience to draw on. Despite losing her wet clothing,
the poor girl still couldn't seem to shake the shivers. Even curled into a
ball, she was trembling quite terribly. She made an effort to keep her
discomfort to herself, but pretty soon Dana couldn't help but take notice. She
looked at Anna with concern.
"Still
can't get warm?"
"It's
n-nothing," she replied, trying to still the chatter in her teeth. "I
just--I just can't stop s-sh-shaking..."
Poor
thing, the blonde heroine thought, she's really trying to be stoic, but this is
too hard for her. Well...maybe she could help.
"Come
here a sec," she said, rising to her feet and pulling a confused Anna over
to her. "Ssh, hey, just relax. You just need to warm up some, and you'll
be ok."
She
stretched them out on the ground, positioning Anna so that she was between Dana
and the cave wall, and pressing up lengthwise against the young woman's back.
She wrapped her arms around Anna's torso, holding her arms to her chest, and
felt the girl stiffen.
"Um...is
this...are you sure this is ok...?"
"Just
relax. I won't bite," she said, trying to reassure her. "Body heat is
about the best I can do right now, since it isn't safe to build a fire.
Does...does this make you uncomfortable?"
"N-no!"
Anna answered, just a little too hastily, "I-I mean, it's fine,
it's...it's kind of nice."
That
made Dana shiver, but not from the cold. She pulled Anna just a little closer.
She closed her eyes a minute, just trying to breath, feeling the girl laying
against her, smelling the light scent of her hair. She swallowed hard. God, why
couldn't they be someplace else? Anywhere but this wretched place?
They
lay in silence like that for a while, just spooning in the dark. Presently Anna's
trembling began to subside, and she did start to relax, easing against Jungle
Babe's body and drawing from its heat. After a while, during which Dana
actually started to doze, Anna's voice brought her back to attention.
"Does...does
the cold not bother you?"
Dana
had to smile. She patted Anna's arm sympathetically. "Don't feel so bad.
It's something you learn to deal with, especially when you're stuck in the
jungle by yourself a lot."
"I
can't imagine it gets very cold there," Anna murmured thoughtfully. Behind
her, she felt Jungle Babe suddenly shift, and sensed something was amiss.
"Dana? Did...did I say something wrong...?"
"No,
nothing like that," Dana sighed, hugging her reassuringly. "I
just...you reminded me of something that happened a long time ago. Actually, it
was the first time I met Bren--I mean, Miss Americana..."
"Oh...?"
Anna asked, the quiet curiosity clearly evident in her tone. Jungle Babe
sighed, weighing the issue in her mind...the story wasn't particularly pleasant,
and she didn't want to scare the girl needlessly. But they didn't have much
else to do, and the telling would help her stay awake.
"Well,
it kind of happened like this," she began, the memories coming easier than
she thought they would, "A long time ago, maybe for the first time
ever...winter came to the jungle."
---------------------
I guess
it's important for you to know that this happened early in my career; I hadn't
been 'Jungle Babe' for very long, and I had a lot to learn about the business
of being a 'super hero'. Even now, the terms just kind of sound odd to me; I am
who I am, and I do what I do, not because I'm out to be a 'hero', but because I
can't imagine not doing it. It's a compulsion, almost; a state of existence. I
once listened to a psychologist lecture about how all so-called super heroes
actually suffer from serious personality disorders; I don't know about that,
but looking back at some of the risks I took, I have to admit that, at the very
least, I was unrealistically optimistic about things. But I was young, naive,
and had more spunk than skill. That's part of what got me in such trouble in
the first place.
Much of
my early years was spent exclusively in the South American jungles. It's where
I got my name; the local papers needed something catchy to describe the wild
woman who was breaking up narcotics rings and shutting down whole companies for
illegal environmental practices, and one of their more colorful columnists
coined the name. Jungle Babe. You can imagine, at first I was utterly aghast;
it's not exactly the kind of thing that inspires fear in criminals, or that can
rally the oppressed. I learned quickly though that, in the old, fearful,
misogynistic circles of the world, it was often better to be completely underestimated
than it was to be feared. Men who thought of me as little more than a sex
object were seldom prepared for the absolute beating I delivered them, and I
can't say I didn't take some satisfaction from their stupefied looks as this
'babe' decimated whole groups of armed, well-trained mercenaries.
I was
on a roll. I had just finished linking a local politician with a massive
underground trafficking ring, and I had enough evidence that even his
connections in the media were unable to shove it under the rug. He was deposed,
thrown in prison, and his entire operation shut down. I couldn't conceive at
the time that my victory would be so short lived; the area is a cesspool of
corruption, and as soon as I decapitated one warlord, it was like two more sprang
up in his place. Rivals would swoop in and carve up old territory, and pretty
soon, the whole thing would start up again. It would take me years to realize
that some fights are best won off the battlefield, but at the time I was driven
to hound these men to extinction.
I had
contacts, friends who I could trust, who fed me information about the goings-on
in the criminal underworld. It was through one of these people that I first
heard about the Senator's wife.
Senator
McGuiness was something of a local hero around the Empire City area at the
time; a local police captain who made his name fighting the mob well before
costumed crusaders became the norm, he was well-liked, respected, and more than
anything, actually committed to making things better. He was particularly
focused on the sudden rash of human trafficking that was cropping up around
Empire City, and leveraged his position to secure money and support to bolster
the local law enforcement. It was effective enough that he made some very
powerful enemies, not the least of which was a particularly dangerous criminal
that went by the moniker Sable Myst.
What?
You've
heard of her?
Well, I
can't say I'm surprised. She has a spiteful streak a mile wide, and seems to
have some kind of weird personal grudge against costumed heroes in general. If
I had known any of that at the time, I probably would've been a lot more
cautious, but being as focused as I was on my immediate surroundings, I confess
that I really had no idea who I was dealing with.
That
was going to change, very, very quickly.
Sable
had suffered particularly costly losses at the hands of the Senator's efforts,
and several of her highest-ranking thugs had been caught and locked up. Right
or wrong, she seemed to take the Senator's intrusion as a personal affront,
despite being only one of several prominent criminals to feel the pinch from
his targeted task forces.
What
can I say, the woman is vindictive.
She
wanted to hit the man in as painful and personal a way as she could, and to
that end, she staged a daring--some might say brazen--intrusion into the
Senator's well-guarded estate, and escaped with his young wife. The operation
might have been utterly insane given how high-profile it was, but if Sable Myst
is anything, she's an absolutely meticulous planner. She had an escape plan
worked out to the smallest detail, and before anyone could coordinate anything
resembling an effective response, she and the senator's wife were long gone.
They fled Empire City, burying their trail, making for more friendly territory
from which to issue her demands.
It just
so happened that the bolt hole she chose was an old hacienda nestled in a
hotspot of criminal activity I'd been watching for months.
My
informants tipped me off that something big was happening when the local port
saw the freight ship arrive almost unannounced. This wasn't that unusual; many
of the narcotics rings used the ships to ferry their goods along the river, but
this one stood out for the high number of foreigners aboard. They were clearly
out of their element, electing to ignore the local town as much as possible and
making their way immediately to the remote estate. I got word that someone had
seen them with a young white woman, seemingly detained against her will. I
wasn't sure what was going on exactly, but my gut was telling me something was
seriously amiss. With barely any other information, I trekked through the
jungle to the rumored safe house.
I had
no way of knowing it, but I was about to walk right into a whole lot of
trouble.
----------------------
The
outskirts of the hacienda were bordered by a small wooden fence, more to
discourage stray wildlife than to act as any kind of real barrier. As
surrounded as it was by the thick forest, a tall fence wouldn't have made much
of a difference; all an intruder would have to do would be to locate a tree
high enough to bound over it.
It was
in just one such tree that Jungle Babe was perched. Sitting in the shadows of
the dense folliage, the tree gave her a perfect vantage point to survey the
property. A remnant of old colonial money, the house was sizeable, with a
detached garage and a smaller series of outbuildings to house the servants and
to store farming equipment. A large section of the land was set aside,
ostensibly to support some kind of a personal garden, but it had gone to fallow
over years of disuse. Whoever the new owner was, he was clearly disinterested
in reviving the property's plantation roots.
A
winding dirt path led from the narrow road, up a light embankment to the house
proper. A ramshackle structure resembling a pillbox more than anything else had
been erected by the road, with a plank of wood set up as a hinged gate. The sun
was setting swiftly, casting the entirety of the grounds in brilliant reds and
oranges, while shadows chased longer and longer paths along the neglected
grass.
In
fifteen minutes dusk would pass, and in another fifteen it would be night
proper; the sun set so rapidly in this part of the world that the transition
was sometimes startlingly fast. It had taken her longer to get here than she'd
expected, and she only had so much daylight left to surmise who exactly it was
she was dealing with.
She'd
spotted six men so far; two of them manned the front gate, and two were slowly
walking at opposite points around the square perimeter. Three jeeps, splattered
with dried dirt from the journey out of town, were parked in a neat row beside
the service garage. Evidently the doors either no longer worked, or were simply
too much trouble to deal with. The last two guards stood by the front door of
the main building, a beautiful adobe structure with protruding rafters and
covered in brilliant crimson roof tiles. It too had fallen into disrepair, and
in many places the plaster was cracking badly. It clearly had been a jewel in
its day, and perhaps might be again, but for now, the grime-flecked windows
lent a gauzy, drugged appearance to the light flickering from within.
So at
least six sentries outside, and who knows how many more within. Jungle Babe
smirked. This should be a cake walk.
The men
were almost uniformly overdressed for the humidity; they wore heavy duty,
tactical pants lined with pockets, and while a few still wore dark vests of
similar make, the majority had stripped away the heavy jacket to wallow
miserably in their plain shirts, soaked in sweat. They clutched listlessly at
the assault rifles dangling from their shoulders, shuffling impatiently as they
stood watch. Occasionally one would slap loudly at his arm or neck in a
pathetic attempt to ward off the massive mosquitoes that were eating them
alive, a sharp curse carrying to her ears over the heavy, still air.
They
lacked the accents of the locals; in fact, although they were suitably crude,
their English was surprisingly smooth. They could have been plucked from any
major city in the United States.
So the
reports were right; these were clearly foreigners, but who were they, and why
were they here? The local drug cartel was notoriously ruthless, and would not
tolerate any intrusion by a rival gang. They would have come in screaming in
cars and jeeps and on motorcycles, shooting first and asking questions never.
So clearly this wasn't drugs, but you didn't arm yourself like this if you were
just interested in poaching. Dana thought back to the photo Escalban had showed
her, of the pretty woman being muscled into a waiting car. Was it a kidnapping?
This seemed incredibly elaborate for just that, but who could tell how the mind
of a sociopath worked?
In a
few minutes, it would all be over anyway.
The sun
had dipped to a ragged, gleaming scar just over the horizon, and already the
night insects were starting up their chorus. Moving as silently as a cat,
Jungle Babe dropped from her perch and began circling around the compound,
keeping mental track of where the two perimeter sentries were by anticipating
their walking speed. She cut back to the fence after covering a quarter or so
of the property edge and dropped into a crouch, huffing quietly. She glanced to
her right, searching in the gloom, hoping that her instincts were right.
Sure
enough, as soon as the darkness had gathered sufficiently, she saw the shaft of
a flashlight blink into illumination fifty yards or so away. The sentry had
switched on his torch, letting it sweep back and forth in front of him. He was
walking away from her, which meant his twin would be just on the other side of
the house. She had a few minutes before he would be in view of the rear of the
building. Taking a breath, she glanced once more to make sure the path was
clear, then charged across the open ground, heading straight for the house.
It took
her barely three counts to cover the distance. She dropped to the ground
beneath a darkened window, pressing her back against the wall. Gingerly, she
raised herself up until she could peer over the sill into the room beyond. It
was completely empty, and totally dark. Checking once more to make sure the
guards were out of sight, she reached up and found the window catch, giving it
an exploratory pull.
To her
relief, she felt it give way. The house was old enough that locks on the
windows were probably absent, and clearly the new owner cared next to nothing
for upkeep. Once again, she quietly congratulated herself on her accurate
deduction, swinging the pane open and slipping inside. The window barely
squeaked, even when she reached to pull it back into place.
She
dropped to the hardwood floor, falling totally still. She listened.
The
door to the hallway was shut, and from beneath it a bar of light illuminated
the dusty floor. In the rooms beyond, she could hear movement, people walking
about, and distant, muffled male voices. It was also there, crouched in the
darkness, that Jungle Babe got her first hint that not everything was as it
seemed.
The
house was surprisingly...cold. Outside the temperature was thick and stifling,
but here, it was pleasant, almost chilly. The property was far too old to have
a working A/C system, and the house itself could not account for the
difference. She frowned, puzzled. Maybe the boss person had a thing for
personal comfort? Seemed odd, but ultimately not that important. She moved
across the room to the door, pausing for a moment to be sure she didn't hear
anyone on the other side.
When
she felt certain enough to open the door, she very quietly turned the handle,
and peeked through the gap.
The
room beyond was a large common living space, sparsely furnished and laden with
dust. The worn floorboards were crisscrossed in footprints left in the layers
of fine white particles, and several industrial-looking lamps were hung from
hooks around the chamber. In the corner she could see a small generator unit
humming quietly, ostensibly providing the electricity for the lighting units, and
maybe for whatever air conditioning system was maintaining the temperature.
These were all just incidental details though; Jungle Babe's attention drawn
immediately to the small card table set up in the center of the room, and the
three men seated around it.
Dressed
similarly to their compatriots outside, their utilitarian vests and dark
clothing, along with the heavy rifles leaning next to their chairs, immediately
gave them away as hired mercenary types. Dana had dealt with their kind
countless times before, and felt her confidence swell; no matter how fast they
were with their weapons, she was faster still. All three men were embroiled in
a heated card game, their conversation punctuated by muffled swears of protest
and crude jibes as hands were played out and bluffs were called. None of them
were paying the least amount of attention; she had the element of surprise on
her side.
She
crouched low, coiling the muscles in her legs and preparing to burst into the
room, when she heard another door open and shut, followed by the sharp rap of
booted steps on the wood floor. She stopped, and listened.
"Did
the boss get bored with you already, Matt?" one of the men quipped,
sneering at the new arrival. Jungle Babe cracked the door ever so slightly,
trying to get a better look. The man he addressed as Matt strode easily up to
the table, his uniform distinct from the others in its almost flawless
arrangement. Closely cropped dark hair crowned his head, his face an exercise
in quiet stoicism. If one looked past the slightly flattened nose, clearly
broken at some point in the past, the man was not at all unattractive; in fact,
the steely eyes and firm jaw, and the lips set in an almost preternaturally
serene smirk, made him oddly compelling. Dana found herself watching him just a
little closer than the others.
When
Matt didn't respond immediately, the muscle at the table grinned, "Maybe
you ought to give someone else a turn? Let a real man help her work out some of
that stress?" He gestured rudely at his crotch. The other two chuckled
coarsely.
Dana
blinked. Their boss was...a woman?
Matt,
though, seemed utterly indifferent. He rounded the table, ambling towards the
merc sneering at him through rows of crooked, broken teeth. "You know,
Brock, that might not be a terrible idea," he replied, his voice easy and
clear. "The boss usually can't stand being around men, and we both know
you don't have any fucking balls."
It took
a second for the smooth delivery of the insult to register through Brock's
thick brow, but all at once, his small, dark eyes glowered in fury, his face
contorting into an ugly mask as he made to leap to his feet. In a flurry of
movement so quick she barely was able to follow, Matt's hand lashed out,
catching Brock's throat in a vicious pincer as he rose and twisting cruelly.
The larger man barely managed to choke out a cry of alarm before he was spun
and slammed back into the table, his hands flying up to claw uselessly at the
gloved hand crushing his windpipe. The other two leapt away from the sudden
flare of violence, looking at each other uneasily.
"H-hey
Matt, he was just kidding," one of them offered, his voice thin. The other
nodded quickly.
"Yeah,
Brock's an idiot, and the boredom is getting to him," his black companion
grunted, holding out an upturned palm. "He didn't mean anything by
it."
On the
table, Brock was sputtering, spittle flecking a face that was rapidly changing
from red to a deep, ugly purple.
"I'm
usually a patient man," Matt sighed, coal-cold eyes peering down at the
blubbering thug like he might regard a particularly fat, interesting bug,
"But your rudeness is grating, and your usefulness questionable." He
tightened his fingers, and Brock began to spasm and gurgle, "I ought to
just kill you to spare us all the annoyance, but we're short-handed, and I'm
not sure the boss would appreciate the mess..."
He
released the man's throat, spinning him off the table and dropping him to the
floor. Brock coughed and spat, clutching at his bruised neck as he rocked on
his knees. Matt flexed his gloved hand, and peered at the other two.
"We're
leaving in three hours for the drop off. Make sure everything is ready to
go." He stepped around the table, stopping briefly next to the goon on the
floor. "Change your pants. You smell like piss."
Without
another word, the lead mercenary vanished back through one of the doors,
leaving the men to exhale loudly at his departure. Brock was still hacking
sickly on the floor, but the other two had no sympathy. The black man muttered
something under his breath and began gathering up the cards that had scattered
across the floor, while the one with the thin voice growled at Brock.
"What
the fuck did you think was going to happen? Christ, maybe you really are as
dumb as you look. Just be glad it was Rian and not the boss; I don't think she
would have let you live."
He
stormed off, shaking his head, vanishing down an adjacent hallway. Dana
retreated into the dark of the room, ducking back as he passed by her door. She
ran through the scenarios in her head, thinking quickly. The drop-off they were
talking about, it had to have something to do with that woman. So it was a
kidnapping. She felt her blood starting to boil. She had to move quickly, and
strike while she still had some element of surprise.
There
was no way to do this stealthily; the house was too small, and she was about to
make a lot of noise. If she was lucky, she'd have all of them disabled before
their leader came running.
She
glanced back through the crack in the door; Brock was still kneeling, massaging
his throat. The other man was now busy packing up several large duffel bags
against the wall, his back to her. The third one still hadn't returned from
wherever it was he'd disappeared to.
Well,
now was as good a time as any.
She
took a breath, and let it out slowly, visualizing what she was about to do.
Then, in an explosion of movement, she threw open the door and hurtled into the
room beyond.
Brock
snapped his head up in shock when the door swung wide, revealing a vision of
blonde fury charging towards him at full speed. Beady eyes widened in utter
bewilderment before Dana smashed her knee into the middle of his face. He
gurgled something unintelligible as he was snapped backwards with a sickening
crunch, the force of her blow strong enough to raise his considerable bulk
several feet off the floor. His partner whirled, eyes flashing wide, and
reached instinctively for a weapon that simply was not there; his rifle lay on
the floor, knocked aside in the earlier scuffle. He barely managed to utter a
curse when Dana swung her leg, catching his temple with her heel and sending
him spinning.
Two
down, she thought to herself, just as a series of rapid steps began to approach
from the hall.
"Brock,
Lucas, what the fuck is--" the third one started, jogging back into the
room. His mouth fell open when he spotted Dana, a look of total incredulity on
his face. Still, despite his shock, his training kicked in and he instinctively
reached for his weapon. Unlike Lucas, this one had grabbed his rifle as he'd
left, and now swung it up to aim at the vision of ferocity standing before him.
She didn't give him time to fire. In a blur of motion she made a huge lunge to
the side, rebounding as soon as she landed to leap right towards the
unprotected opening of his off-gun arm. She leveraged her forward momentum,
driving her elbow hard into his ribcage. He doubled over, his face going stark
white as the pain and force of drove all the wind out of his lungs. Still Jungle
Babe was not done; she followed through with the motion, turning like a top,
and brought her heel straight down in a wicked axe kick right onto the back of
his head.
He
collapsed to the ground in a heap, not moving. The whole thing had taken maybe
fifteen seconds, and all three mercenaries were out cold.
"Not
bad. That was easier than I--" she started to mutter, right before she
heard the click of a hammer being pulled into place.
"Not
another move, sweetheart," came the steely order from behind, "So
much as twitch and I'll put a bullet in the back of your head."
She
recognized the voice; the one called Matt, clearly drawn to the sounds of the
commotion, had returned, and was now brandishing a weapon at her back. She grit
her teeth, cursing her oversight. The bastard was faster than she'd expected.
"Hands
up, if you please," he said. Slowly, she moved to comply, holding her arms
out and straightening up. She felt his eyes on her back, on her scandalously
bare legs. She felt herself flush in frustration. "Turn around.
Slowly."
She did
as he asked, clenching her jaw. He held the dark sidearm steady as she turned
to face him. It was only when she was fully revolved that the stony mask of his
face broke into a sardonic smirk.
"Well.
I was told that the jungle was full of dangerous animals, but no one told me to
expect anything like you." He looked her up and down, appraising the
statuesque blonde in the leopard-print bikini with an eyebrow raised
appreciatively. "Though I don't think I would have believed them even if
they'd told me."
He
gestured with the barrel.
"You
got a name, gorgeous?"
Her
brow creased, red-painted lips curling in a frown, "How does 'fuck off'
grab you?"
He
smiled, almost disarmingly, "Given what you're wearing, I'll happily call
you whatever you want. But you've made a huge mess, and my boss is going to
want a word with you, so why don't you do us both a favor, and--"
He
never got to finish his sentence, because at that moment, the window nearest to
him exploded inward in a spray of glass, wood, and furiously flapping feathers.
Matt
spun in alarm, training his gun on the sudden burst of movement, his mind
struggling to make sense of the mass of whirling crows that just battered
through the windowpane. He fired reflexively into the cawing horde, but was
instantly enveloped, raising his arms defensively around his head as claws and
beaks tore and jabbed at his face.
Jungle
Babe sent a mental word of thanks to the birds she'd summoned, using the distraction
to close the distance between her and the besieged mercenary. He saw her
movement, cursing loudly as he moved to bring his gun back to bear, but in a
heartbeat she was crouched beneath him. She grabbed his wrist, twisting with
precise skill, forcing the gun out of his hands. He reached for a long combat
knife strapped to his belt, but the buffet of wings in his face and the
relentless screeching in his ear made it impossible to react. He never even saw
the open-palmed strike that smashed into his jaw, making his teeth crack
together and sending his ears ringing. She riddled his torso with a series of
blows, hitting nerve clusters and areas unprotected by his flak vest. He
staggered back, gasping in pain, but still would not go down.
A lot
tougher than his friends, Jungle Babe observed, panting, but that just meant
she needed to hit harder.
He
surprised her with a savage swing of his fist, but her blows had left him
disoriented and it went wide. She ducked under the punch, letting it sail over
her head, before she caught his wrist and wrenched it behind his back. He
snarled in pain, but a second later her leg swept his own out from under him,
and he fell face-first onto the hard wood floor. She landed lithely on top of
him, a knee in the small of his back, another pinning his free arm. She twisted
his arm hard, pulling it between his shoulder blades until he winced. The crows
fluttered about the room, cawing madly.
"Talk
fast, pretty boy, I'm not in the mood for small talk," she snapped,
"Your men were seen detaining a woman; where is she? And where is your
boss?"
Matt
struggled to regain control of his agonized breathing, flying through any means
he could think of to dislodge her and coming up totally short. The bitch was
insanely fast, and surprisingly strong, and she had him completely at a
disadvantage. When he didn't answer her right away, she yanked on his arm hard
enough to send pain shooting through his shoulder. He winced, and made to
answer, but just then, he felt something shift in the room. Instantly, the
temperature started to plunge; he could feel the heat smoking off his body, his
harried breathing escaping in plumes of thick, heavy white. Sitting astride
him, Jungle Babe looked about in surprise, feeling the cold suddenly envelop
every inch of her body. She glared down at Matt in confusion, the crows cawing
in alarm.
He
smirked, "Why don't you ask her yourself?"
Just
then, there was a spray of crackling, glittering white that lanced over her
head. Jungle Babe ducked reflexively, feeling a surge of cold so biting it
stung the skin on the back of her neck. Instantly, the incessant cawing fell
silent, followed a second later by a rain of heavy thumps as the flock of crows
dropped to the ground, frozen solid.
Dana
spun to find the source of the attack, and saw a shapely, silver form standing
in the open doorway. The woman wore a silver and blue bodysuit that rendered
her every curve in skintight relief. A slender hand was held up in a dismissive
gesture, a flurry of miniscule diamonds still swirling around her fingers from
the blast that had frozen the birds. Shoulder length silver hair framed a face
that was simultaneously beautiful and startlingly cruel. Dark eyes regarded
Dana with a mix of amusement, annoyance, and surprise.
"I'm
disappointed, Mr. Rian," the woman sighed in a voice chiming like crystal,
"Getting beaten by a girl in leopard-skin lingerie doesn't exactly bolster
my confidence in your abilities."
"Apologies,
ma'am," he rasped in reply, "I got distracted."
She
eyed Jungle Babe's starkly revealing outfit with a bemused smirk. "I can
certainly see why."
The
casualness of their exchange was grating on Dana's nerves; she pushed past the
blaze of questions raging in her mind, and turned to fully face the strange
woman standing in the doorway. "Who the hell are you? Where's the
woman?"
At
this, the newcomer's eyebrows peaked, "Woman? You mean Mrs.
McGuiness?" She laughed, shaking her head. "She's...occupied, at the
moment, but I'd be more than happy to entertain you; though I must ask that you
treat my toys with a little more respect."
She
surveyed the damage, the four downed mercenaries and the absolute wreck of a
room with unnerving calm, almost amusement. It made Dana's skin crawl. This
wasn't the look of a person caught off-guard or unprepared; in fact, the way
she was looking at her made Jungle Babe feel almost like a prized mare at
auction. The woman flexed her hands expectantly, arrogantly striding into the
room.
Sensing
the blonde heroine's confusion, the silver-haired woman said, "I seem to
have you at a disadvantage; you have no idea who I am, do you, 'Jungle
Babe'?"
The way
she sneered the name made Dana's hackles rise, but inside, it felt like she'd
been struck a blow. How did this woman know who she was? What had she gotten
herself into?
When
Dana didn't answer immediately, the woman continued, "You can't expect
that I’d waltz right into unknown territory without doing some homework first?
Oh, I'm well aware of your recent exploits; some of my favorite clients are
incredibly upset with you. I have no doubt that I could get several of them
into a fantastic bidding war over your lovely self."
Jungle
Babe growled, "I took out four of your guards without breaking a sweat.
What makes you think you'll be any more of a challenge?"
At this
the woman paused, pursing her lips in amusement. "Why, because I'm Sable
Myst, and I eat little tramps like you for breakfast."
The
woman lashed out her arm, an arc of blistering white following behind, and
Dana's eyes went wide as shards of razor sharp ice exploded towards her. She
leapt out of the way, rolling to avoid a second volley that tracked dangerously
close behind, but Sable Myst gave her no quarter. No sooner would she land than
another cascade of glittering shards would be hurled her way, forcing her again
to move. Sable laughed.
"You're
fast! Faster than the reports, anyway! But you can't dodge forever!"
Jungle
Babe dove into a slide, gauging the distance to the wall, to the table, to the
woman peppering the air with deadly, frozen glass. She counted, waiting for the
next volley. She heard the hiss as the crystals materialized in the air, and
leapt to the wall, hard.
"I
don't intend to!" she shouted back, rebounding off the wood to land deftly
on the table, before kicking off straight at her silver-haired attacker. The
sudden shift in momentum caught Sable off guard, and she backpedaled to avoid
the lash of a kick that nearly took her head off. Jungle Babe spun with the movement,
using it to drive an open palmed strike aimed square at Sable Myst's chest, but
the villainess was ready.
She
gestured upwards with her open hand, and a column of ice erupted from the
ground in front of her, absorbing Dana's strike. The blonde winced as pain
lanced up her arm, the blow sending a spider web of cracks splintering through
the ice block. Breathing through the pain, she smashed her knee into the block
in the same spot, and it exploded back in chunks of ice and snow.
Sable
cursed, throwing her arms up to deflect the debris, but her quarry was already
moving, dashing into the swirling cloud. Jungle Babe sidestepped a blast of ice
so cold it singed. She grimaced at the pain, but she couldn't back away now; if
she let Sable control the distance and tempo of the fight, she was as good as
beaten. She had to keep the fight in close quarters.
Her
rapid movements seemed to be working; she was forcing the silver-clad
villainess back, slowly closing the distance. One good blow was all she needed
to land, and the fight would be over. Relentlessly she feigned and bobbed,
anticipating each new flurry and moving away at the last possible second. She
could tell her opponent was growing frantic, even panicky, by the way each shot
seemed to become more and more haphazard, reactionary.
Time to
put an end to this, Dana thought, and braced herself for the final push.
When
Sable launched her next attack, Dana exploded into motion, ducking under the
barrage and closing the distance between them with frightening speed. She heard
Sable utter a curse, and saw her hands move to fire again, but she was faster.
Her leg shot out like a spear, catching her adversary's hip and sending her
spinning against the wall. Sable had twisted at the last second though, and the
blow was more glancing than it should have been, but Dana smelled blood in the
water. She dashed in pursuit.
Sable
crashed against the wall, her back to Dana, leaving her dangerously exposed,
swaying from the force of her impact. If she turned to face her, Dana would
have any number of possible avenues of attack, and if she didn't, she left
herself totally vulnerable to a strike from the rear.
The
blonde heroine pulled back a fist. She'd won.
As she
expected, Sable turned to face her incoming assailant, but right before Dana
could deliver the final blow, she saw a flash of something silver in Sable's
hand. She didn't recognize the small, polished cylinder until she heard the
hiss as a jet of swirling pink smoke blasted her square in the face.
It
caught her totally off-guard, and she reacted purely on instinct, throwing up
her hands in a useless attempt to deflect the gas, and gasping in
shock--inhaling a lungful of the sweetly fragrant emission before she knew what
was happening.
She
fell to a knee, coughing furiously. Sable Myst's crystalline laughter pierced
through her confusion, and at once she could see the look of distress and panic
she'd seen on the villainess' face had been a ruse. She smirked down at Jungle
Babe, idly twirling the pen-sized cylinder in her slender fingers.
"Well
I've got to hand it to you, you're not quite the novice I expected you'd be. In
a fair fight you might have even managed to beat me; you're stronger, faster,
and a lot more agile than I am." Her smile broadened into a wicked smile.
"Of course, I don't play fair."
"You...bitch..."
Dana coughed, struggling to her feet. "This fight isn't over!"
She
lunged at Sable, launching her fist, but something was wrong. Her movements
were slowing, growing clumsy, and her punch was so telegraphed that Sable
actually caught her wrist well before the swing could connect. Dana stared in
shock at the blue glove gripping her arm, confusion twisting her features, even
as a strange, creeping heat began to spread through her body. The warmth felt
like it was radiating from her chest, running down her arms and legs in a
cascade that felt like she was being immersed in rich, warm oil. Despite the
still-frigid temperature of the room, and the clouds of panting vapor that
escaped her red lips, she began feeling flushed, almost feverish. Her bright
blue eyes widened in alarm, meeting Sable's penetrating stare and sensing only
the cold, predatory certainty lurking therein. She tried to pull her arm away,
but Sable held her fast.
"T-that
gas..." Jungle Babe gasped, suddenly feeling horribly woozy, almost drunk,
"What--what was...that gas...?"
Sable
Myst released her arm and shoved her backwards. She staggered, the motion too
much for her overwhelmed sense of equilibrium, and she would have lost her
footing entirely had she not collided with something hard and unyielding.
Fingers like iron clamped onto her upper arms, pinning them in place, as she
was pulled hard against the uniformed torso of the man who had snuck up behind
her.
"Easy
there, gorgeous," Matt's voice rasped in her ear, "Don't want to fall
now."
"L-let
me go!" Dana snapped, struggling in his grip, but it was like she was two
steps removed from what her body was doing; her movements felt uncoordinated,
sluggish, and she couldn't summon the strength to break his grip. Something was
wrong; something was terribly, terribly wrong.
Sable
Myst slinked forward, assessing her new catch with a slow, roving stare.
"Mr. Rian, be a gentleman and help our guest keep her footing. She's
looking a little lightheaded."
"Yes
Ma'am," came the curt reply. Sable's dark eyes bored into Dana's own.
"As
to your question," the woman breathed, stepping closer, "it's called
Climax, a product of my own invention with several possible vectors; ingestion,
injection...or inhalation." She held up the slender silver cylinder before
Dana's frightened eyes. "I find it incredibly useful in dealing with
overconfident, costumed fools such as you."
"You're
a...c-coward..." Dana growled, still struggling uselessly, but as much as
she hated to admit it, Sable was right; her head was swimming, and her body
felt so limp that without Matt's grip supporting her weight she was sure she'd
be flat on her back. She needed to think, to find a way out of this...but it
was getting so hard to focus, to concentrate. The heat incubating in her body
was only getting worse, and it seemed to be coalescing in her chest...her
breasts...between her thighs.
Oh god,
what was happening to her?
"I
prefer to think of it as being calculatingly cautious," Sable corrected
her, "When you deal in my trade, you learn that there often aren't any
second chances; if you slip up, you wind up dead...or worse..."
Without
warning, she slid the metallic cylinder between Jungle Babe's exposed cleavage,
nestling the device between her panting tits. Dana looked at her in shock.
"H-hey! What do you think you're--"
"Normally,
Climax is least effective in gas form," Sable went on, ignoring her cry of
protest. Her tone was casual, almost matter-of-fact, like she could have been
delivering a lecture, "And it tends to have a diminished initial effect on
superhuman physiologies, such as yours. One dosage is usually enough just to
immobilize. It takes supplementary exposure for the drug to really...sink
in..."
Before
Dana could say another word, Sable deftly twisted the control valve of the
apparatus, and once more Dana's ears were filled with a low, sinister hiss.
Rather than the full on blast from earlier, the pink gas was leaking out of the
silver cylinder in a slow, steady plume. Like smoke from a freshly extinguished
candle, the heady ribbon licked along Jungle Babe's neck, splashing against her
chin and breaking into countless strands of sinuous vapor. The distraught
heroine struggled uselessly in her captor's grip, and did the only thing she
could think of.
She
held her breath.
This
only seemed to amuse Sable Myst, whose eyes sparkled evilly. "Such a
valiant effort, but ultimately futile. Just one more breath is all it's going
to take. Climax does such wonderful things to the female body. It heightens
sensitivity, while at the same time inhibiting your conscious control over your
own actions. Let me demonstrate..."
While
she spoke, Sable had quietly maneuvered her hand beneath the flap of Dana's
loincloth, and swiftly moved to cup her sex through the narrow strip of her
thong. Dana jolted in shock, mewling in protest, and struggled to control the
air that threatened to burst from her lungs. She glared at Sable, but the
villainess only smirked back. Dana's face reddened in mortification, utterly
horrified at the personal violation, yet powerless to do anything about it. A
moment later though, an awful realization began to dawn on her; the creeping,
irrepressible warmth that was moving through her body had left her pussy
strangely tingling, and now, the insistent pressure of Sable's hand made it
doubly worse. She could feel the blood rushing to her sex to swell in her
nether lips, to throb in her dangerously sensitive clit. To her utter
disbelief, she could feel her wetness beginning to flow...and all the bitch had
done was press her hand against her pussy!
Sable
tittered cruelly, eyeing Dana's distress with confident glee. "Already
your body is responding; this sweet little cunt of yours is starting to melt,
and I've barely even touched you. What do you think is going to happen when I
do...this?"
Dana
groaned angrily as Sable's fingers suddenly began to shift into motion. Slender
digits rhythmically pushed against the swollen lips of her sex, rolling them
apart so that the strap of her thong slipped between and pressed against her
rigid clit. The smooth texture of Sable's gloved hand as it traced and fondled
the length of her pussy was positively wicked, and Dana had to clench her teeth
to stifle the choked gasps that wanted to escape her throat.
Holding
her breath was making things infinitely worse; though Sable had only been
touching her for a few moments, each second seemed to stretch into painful
minutes as her lungs began to burn, and her head began to throb. Every
sensation seemed to be magnified twice over; she could feel every brush of
Sable's patient petting, every rolling caress that sent her thong sawing
between her sodden lips. It wasn't long before her angry glare faded into a
look of growing desperation. She was starting to see spots flicker across her
eyes, and the periphery of her vision was growing hazy. Her throat ached, and
her heart hammered as she tried to think of something, anything, to get out of
this. But she couldn't think, and her body felt so heavy, so limp...
Then
Sable's thumb found her clit, and slowly began to flick back and forth across
it.
Pleasure
sparked up her spine, and the cry was forced out of her lungs before she
realized what had happened. She felt the chill air race into her chest as she
took a long, wrenching gasp--and only then did her eyes widen in horrid
realization.
Sable's
sultry smirk only widened. "I win."
She
couldn't stop the shuddering, hungry pants her body demanded she take after
denying herself so much oxygen, and the sweet, fragrant musk assaulted her
senses. At once, a wave of wilting heat exploded inside her, driving the
strength fully from her legs and making every inch of her skin tingle in awful
delight. Instantly she was acutely aware of every sensation; of the rough
scratch of Matt's uniform against her bare legs and back; of the now painful
confinement of feeling her aching nipples press into the cups of her bra; and
worst of all, of the all-too knowing manipulation of her suddenly gushing sex.
"AH!"
Dana cried, her face blushing crimson at the unmistakably hot, lusty tone in
her own voice, "S-stop, please, I can't...I...I..." Then, Sable
pulled the soaked strip of her thong to the side, fully exposing her weeping
sex, before easily sliding a long finger deep inside. Dana's eyes rolled back,
"NNn...ooooooohhhh...!"
That
one finger was soon joined by a second, then a third, before Sable began
rocking her hand against Jungle Babe's openly dripping pussy. Dana thrashed her
head in wild denial, but soon all that was left of her angry protests were
moans, and airy sighs, growing louder and louder as Sable's fingers plunged
relentlessly into her tightening cunt. In spite of her resistance, Jungle
Babe's thighs began to spread, and her hips began to rock in time against the
vile villainess' dominating strokes, driving her higher and higher towards a
precipice of subjugating pleasure.
All the
while, with every gasping breath, she took in more of the deadly aphrodisiac
rising from the capsule tucked snugly between her breasts, falling deeper and
deeper into its sweet, intoxicating grip.
"Sstop
it...s-stop...oh stop...oohhh..." Dana begged. Her mind was almost on
auto-pilot, dazedly repeating the same hollow paeans of resistance even as her
body responded more and more readily to the seductive manipulation occurring
between her spread thighs.
Despite
her own inoculation against the effect of the drug, Sable Myst could feel the
constant exposure starting to affect her a little as well. The contact high
left her with a lingering, entirely not-unpleasant buzzing in her head. She had
to cut to the chase.
She
moved in closer, so that her nose brushed against Dana's own, and her lips hung
mere centimeters away from the panting blonde's open mouth. Her hand continued
to fuck a toe-curling rhythm in and out of Jungle Babe's all-too eager pussy,
moving faster and faster. Dana's breathing grew ragged, her head swimming with
the heady mixture of both the insidious aphrodisiac and mind-melting pleasure.
But
just before the orgasm building inside her broke, Sable's hand abruptly stopped
moving.
"W-what...?"
Jungle Babe gasped, blinking in confusion, forced to stare into the sultry dark
eyes hovering just inches away from her own.
"I
stopped," Sable explained in a whisper, "Just like you wanted me to,
remember?"
Jungle
Babe struggled to form a cohesive thought; her release stymied, she writhed
ineffectually in the mercenary's steady grip. Sable's fingers were still deep
inside her, holding still against the clutching walls of her overheated sex.
Normally, the impending orgasm would have begun to recede; her body should have
had a chance to cool down...but that wasn't happening. Something was wrong. The
pressure, the unforgiving need, continued to simmer.
It was
the drug, Dana realized dimly; it was preventing her from coming down off the
intense arousal she'd been forced to endure. The need for pleasure was somehow
infinitely worse than the pleasure itself; it was like when she was holding her
breath, except now it seemed like her entire body was caught in some awful
asphyxiation of bliss. Even as her thoughts raced, Sable's words echoed
heavily. She'd stopped. Dana had wanted her to stop...
...hadn't
she?
She
felt the evil slaver's lips brush tantalizingly against her own, and caught her
breath. "You don't have to stop though," the silver-haired temptress
whispered, "You're squeezing my fingers so tightly, you have to be close.
So very, very close. It would feel so good to cum. To explode. You want it,
don't you?"
Jungle
Babe tried to find the words to deny her, but her head was so foggy, and she
was...she was so hot...
All she
could manage was a halting, "N-no...I don't...I don't know, I
shouldn't--"
She
moaned when she felt Sable's slick thumb shift to press insistently against her
erect clit, only to once more freeze stock still. She was so wet, she could
feel herself just dripping down the woman's gloved fingers. It felt good to
have them inside her. It felt good to feel the pressure against her clit. If
only she'd move, it would just take a second, a heartbeat, and she'd be
cumming. But...no...that's not right...she didn't want it...she was being
forced...but oh god, she was so turned on...!
Just
then, she felt those fingers stir inside her again, felt her cit mash against
the pad of Sable's thumb, and gasped, almost in relief--till she realized that
Sable was still not moving, and that the motion was caused by her hips, her own
hips, rocking into the woman’s waiting hand.
"That's
the way," the smirking villainess goaded, "Your body knows what it
wants. You can't stop yourself, can you?" Her tone changed, becoming firm,
commanding. "Faster slut. Fuck yourself faster on my fingers. You know you
want to."
Jungle
Babe's mind reeled as her very thoughts began to betray her. Sable's words were
so calm, so confident, it was so hard to ignore her commands. Her hips were
moving on their own, rocking harder and harder against the intruding digits
giving her so much pleasure. Whatever tenuous influence she still had over them
was fading rapidly as the orgasm that had so recently eluded her began to rush
towards her once again.
Sable
was right; she did want this. She wanted to cum so bad. She wanted it...needed
it...
"Yes...yess...!"
Dana began to whine, rolling her hips so that her clit crushed against the
unyielding force of Sable's thumb. She worked her hand like it was a cock,
buried deep inside her, plunging in and out...in and out...she was getting so
close, so amazingly close...!
"Kiss
me," Sable whispered to the drugged heroine, "Kiss me, and I'll let
you cum."
Jungle
Babe was helpless before the vile imperative, her will sapped into utter impotence.
With thoughts of only the pleasure, of the wonderful release, rioting in her
mind, her consciousness finally gave way. With an obedient moan, she leaned
forward, seeking out the villainess' waiting mouth and offering her own in a
submissive kiss.
It was
only when she felt the soothing cool of Sable's lips did she realize how
feverish she really was, but it was merely a passing thought, because a second
later she felt the orgasm she'd been desperately chasing burst into full,
delicious bloom. A final turn of her hips, and she exploded onto Sable's hand,
crying her pleasure into the woman's open mouth. She shook, held on her feet
only by the unfailing grip on her upper arms, as the orgasm gushed through her,
as it drowned her.
When at
last it ended, Jungle Babe lost the strength to keep her head up. She broke the
kiss, her head lolling forward. She was panting, barely conscious. The events
that followed were a blur; she heard Sable say something to her
second-in-command as she retrieved the cylinder from between Jungle Babe's
tits, something about taking her to the 'play room', and to get someone to
clean up the mess they'd made. The last thing she remembered was being foisted
into the mercenary's waiting arms, and carried off into the depths of the
hacienda.
Sable's
voice chased after her, though her addled mind barely recognized the gravity of
the threat, "I have a few calls to make. I want her properly prepared and
fully conditioned before we deliver her to the winning bidder. Have the boys show
her how sluts are supposed to behave."
Then,
there was only sweet, merciful darkness.
--------------------------
At
that, Jungle Babe paused her retelling, and the cave fell into almost total
silence. She swallowed hard, her mind racing as it sought to recall the events,
even as she struggled with new uncertainties. She hadn't meant to go into such
lurid detail when she began her story, but for some reason, she found it
impossible to stop once she'd started.
She
felt Anna lying next to her, as still as a statue, and worried that she'd gone
too far. It would have been sufficient to just gloss over the humiliation of
her capture, and cut right to the events that happened in the hours that
followed, and yet she had been unable, perhaps unwilling, to do so.
'No,
it's important you leave it in, leave all the details bare; she needs to
understand what you went through so that the depth of your debt can be seen in
context,' her mind seemed to rationalize, 'She's no naive waif anymore; she's
seen, and experienced, horrors of her own; better for her to see that there's
hope even in the midst of such wickedness.'
It made
sense, and maybe Dana could have even taken solace in the soundness of her
reasoning...and yet...
She
shifted her legs together, and reddened slightly in the dark of the cave as she
felt her suddenly sodden pussy mewl in response. The naked arousal retelling
the events had sparked inside her made her feel dirty, ashamed; she should be
feeling anger, revulsion, and righteous indignation at being made to suffer at
the hands of that witch Sable Myst, yet she could not deny that she felt almost
none of those things.
It just
made her hot.
She
couldn't help but wonder...was Anna turned on too?
"Stop
it," she chided herself angrily, suddenly aghast at the thoughts swirling
in her head, "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Yet try
as she might, Dana couldn't ignore the feeling of having the young woman's back
nestled against her, of how soft and smooth her bare skin felt. The scent of
her hair filled her senses. The feelings of attraction she felt towards her
were strong and getting stronger still, surprising Dana with their intensity.
No. Not
here. The feelings were too raw, too confusing. She would be taking advantage
of a woman in terrible distress...she would only get hurt...
God,
she was so wet.
Before
she could hope to resolve her conflicting emotions, Anna's voice cut through
the silence, jarring her back to reality.
"Dana...?"
she said, shifting slightly in her embrace. Dana's heart skipped a beat, dread
gnawing at her. The openness of her retelling had left her feeling
uncharacteristically vulnerable, and she was afraid the words that followed
would be an admonishment, a rejection...
"What
happened next?"
There
was an unmistakably expectant tone in those words, a breathlessness that
betrayed a kind of helpless excitement. Dana felt Anna shift again, and
realized that the girl had quietly slipped her hand down, sneaking it between
her own slender thighs. Every so often she felt the subtle, self-conscious sway
of Anna's hips against her own; it didn't take much to imagine what was going
on, what the young woman was trying to quietly disguise.
It made
part of her absolutely thrill.
'She's
enjoying it. You're turning her on. You're telling her about how you were
drugged, reduced to a mindless sex toy for a slaver and her vile underlings,
and she's touching herself,' it exclaimed. A weird sense of power, of control,
accompanied those thoughts, even as her own excitement began to soar. 'Go on.
Give her what she wants. Tell her more.'
Yet
part of her still gave pause. It was all happening so fast. This wasn't just
some naughty slumber party, they were close to the heart of the monster's
domain. The danger they were in could not be understated. Had Dana thought to
get up, to look outside the cave through the steady beat of the rain, her
concerns would have been justified.
Normally,
their elevation would have provided a natural barrier against free-forming fog.
It would have cascaded into the crooks and valleys, finding the low ground and
churning there, but there was nothing natural about the twisted nightmare the
landscape had been turned into.
The
rain had awakened the corrupted earth, which exhaled up the thick, vile miasma
that had permeated the forest. As if sensing the presence of the two warm,
living bodies, it had wound and crept its way up the slope of the hill,
crawling with almost sentient intent towards the mouth of the cave. Sinuous, whisper-thin
tendrils had swept across the ground, and were now lapping with clear,
unnatural hunger against Dana's exposed flesh.
All the
while she'd been telling her story, it had tasted her, caressing her even now.
It crept along her back; it glanced across the firm globes of her ass; it
dipped into the space between her pressed thighs. The lightest of touches, the
merest of ghostly attentions, yet already the unsuspecting heroine was falling
prey to their influence.
She
squirmed as phantom tongues slipped and sawed between her unguarded pussy lips,
wholly unconscious of the peril she was in, aware only of her growing arousal,
and Anna's sweet, heady scent filling every breath she took.
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