This story was inspired by a few 3D porn pictures. The pictures are very detailed but sadly with a pitiful length of words to describe them. The idea was in the pictures themselves, i guess. The pictures wanted the viewer to think further from what they saw, and i’m one of them who had seen them, and decided to elaborate the story in a more thorough manner. Perhaps there may be extra explanation that i may have failed to find, but i don’t care. The picture gave me a thought, and i’ve decided to put into words. Hope you enjoy.
The bright sun light blinded the petite blonde, Clara, as her body limped and unable to move. She felt her body was swaying from side to side. When her wrists came into sight where they were tightly tied to a pole that stretched along her body, she knew she was tied upside down. She was being carried.
Her tired body threatened her with unconsciousness, but she managed to stay awake, at least for a bit to allow her to watch a few very tanned body hauling hers across the long grass field. After that, unconsciousness took over her. She’s out.
Several moments later, she woke up again, and from the posture she’s still in, she knew they haven’t reached where they were going. This time, the blonde finally became more aware of her surroundings. The tanned bodies were not men as she had previously thought. They were women, hauling their prize to their village.
Clara’s frantic mind triggered her throat to let out a scream for help, but only realizing her mouth had been gagged and her loudest scream of her life turned out to be muffled whimpers. The women didn’t notice, or perhaps they didn’t care if she was awake or not, their face was objective, their purpose was clear, they had to bring her back.
Clara’s heartbeat raced. In her head, the words, “This can’t be happening.” repeated in quick succession. Her fate was sealed, and reaching an end. She had heard of cannibalism from the locals, that among tribes, it’s a practice that is routine. Tears flowed down her cheek, the thought of being eaten overwhelmed the poor blonde. Faces of her family began to flash through her head. Her sister, her mother, her boyfriend, father, cousins, everyone she knew.
Finally, the pack stopped, jerking Clara from her thoughts. She use all her effort to turn her head, to see what’s in front of her. Her head quickly snapped back its original position when she saw the wooden gate that erected as high as 5 meters. Her life as she knew it, was about to end.
The creaking sound of the opening gate filled Clara’s ears. The sound was unnerving, as if death was playing a song for her, inviting her to HIS domain. Clara immediately blamed herself. Stupid girl. Stupid stupid girl. She shouldn’t have come alone. She should have asked for a guide. She should have brought her boyfriend. FUCKING STUPID GIRL!
But what’s done is done. She can’t go back now. They won’t let her. She’s going to stay in there, and maybe for a day or two before they’ve decided a recipe for her, which she will be the main ingredient, that’s what she thought. What she don’t know was that this tribe was not a cannibalistic tribe, nor this tribe will kill women. Men were despised, and kill on sight. Women, on the other hand, were welcomed, but couldn’t leave once they’ve entered.
The pack reached the center of the enclosed village. There were huts spread across the sandy ground. One of the women in the pack shouted barbarically. She doesn’t understand at first, but when she saw many more women came crawling out of their respective huts, she knew it was a call for celebration. Everyone of them eyed her in fascination. Some even bowed down as if she’s a deity of some sort.
Clara muffling pleas was among the noise made in the village. None could hear her. Nor will they care even if they did. To her, they wanted to eat her. She’s terrified, even more so when she saw a overly ornamented woman walked through the crowd. One of the pack peeled off and stood by what it appeared to be the elder of the village, and whispered something into her ear. She nodded, and nodded and nodded again. The she held up the wooden, well decorated staff up in the air and shouted something foreign. Everyone cheered.
The two women carrying her lowered her down until her back lied on the sandy ground. Clara’s head turned from left to right, and back to left, scanning for a possible way of escape. Unfortunately, there was no exit. There was only a circle of crowd, enveloping her as she was the center of attention. Suddenly, from the corner of her eyes, the crowd split, allowing some sort of rattan furniture that Clara had never seen before. It must be the cooking place, where she will be cooked. She thought.
But the tribe had something better for her. Something she will never be able to guess. Something exquisite. The ropes around her wrists and ankles were loosened, and reflexively, she flung her limbs to all direction, hitting the muscular woman around her. But those warriors were not afraid of a little blonde throwing tantrum, they’ve had hunted lions, and rhinoceros, they’ve had seen better struggle than this feeble little blonde.
Almost instantly, they’ve had her limbs secured in their strong grips. She’s lifted as if she had no mass and moved her on to the weird furniture. It’s a ‘Y’ shaped rattan assembly. Clara yelled frantically, but it only seem to amaze her spectator even more.
Her body was pinned to the lower part of the ‘Y’, and her arms were tied onto a thick rattan protruding slightly further down the ‘Y’. Her legs were a bit more challenging than securing her arms, but to those warrior like women, it proof nothing harder than splitting a twig. Her legs were finally secured at each section of the Y, efficiently spreading her legs wide. Her body was now aligned with the Y structure. Clara thought this was over, she’s about to die. They’ve began to strip her. Using every sharp tools available, the African women cut through her cotton wear, and her denim jeans, until every last piece of fabric was removed.
She’s bare naked. Clara shut her eyes, tightly, for she thought she’s about to die. But suddenly, something made her jerked in surprise. Her head moved slightly up so that her eyes could see through her perky C cup breast. A woman with a face of fascination, was touching her pussy. Before she could look any longer, a pair of hands pressed on her forehead, dragging her head down.
More hands came and caressed the frightened body. Some over her breasts, some plucking on her nipples, some rubbing her stomach, some touching her ear lobes, but more significantly, her pussy. She felt weird. She felt aroused. She felt loved?
Another pair of fingers came down and danced around her hidden clit. She felt exposed immediately, and wanted to shut her legs. But the roped around her ankles and thighs made her effort looked like a mere shudder. Around her, spectators watched in fascination. She don’t know what was so fascinated, but she felt shame, humiliated that tears began to roll down.
The fingers around her clit, together with the ones rubbing along her opening began to increase their pace. Their rubs grew faster and more vigorous by the seconds, threatening her with a brewing orgasm. Realizing she was about to orgasm, the blonde held her breath, and clenched her inner muscle, trying to suppress the powerful feeling trying to escape.
Just when she thought she got the hang of it, the fingers around her opening plunged deep into her, catching her by surprise. All her muscles hardened, she head shot up against the pressing palm and she let out an beastly cry. The fingers inside her twisted and turned inside her, rubbing the folds as it does so, exploring every part inside her sacred hole, her love hole. The palms came again and moved her head down, and someone whispered something repeatedly inside her ears. Maybe telling her to relax?
The fingers inside her wriggled faster, rubbing her G-spot occasionally. With the same fingers torturing her now audaciously swollen clit, she could no longer hold herself together. She felt both her outside and inside were touched, and wasn’t able to focus which one to cool off. They were simultaneously there, one appearing after another. She lost herself. She exhaled an ungodly moan, her eyes rolled up, her muscles tensed. All which indicated the incoming orgasm, prompting one of the woman to hold a cup nearby her opening, and finally, the helpless pussy was pushed over the edge and released a reluctant, but explosive orgasm.
Her body jerked violently. If Clara had orgasms, this by far the best she had. Her pussy throbbing violently as clear fluid gushed out, all in which was collected into a bowl one of them had held there earlier. The aftermath was exhausting. Clara slumped into her restrains, breaths were quick and short. Her pussy had literally wet itself.
But it wasn’t over just yet. The first orgasm was only the beginning. Her pussy was throbbing, swollen and red. But that didn’t stop the woman from plunging her fingers back into her pussy to draw a second wave. Clara shouted no, but the word would never reached them. They will not understand it either. The person beside her was still trying to calm her down, as if she can.
Her pussy gripped onto the fingers, sucking them as they were removed for another thrust. She can’t hold on any longer. Her initial orgasm had made her pussy ever more sensitive. Her clit still had no shame as it proudly exposed itself for the fingers to dance on it. Her pussy once again began throbbing, and the natives knew she would come any moment. The bowl was brought near once again. Clara shook her head violently, perhaps wanting to clear her mind a bit. But she knew she won’t be able to. As long as her legs were spread, pussy was fingered, and her body caressed by these strangers, she won’t be able to hold it in.
Her pussy throbbed angrily, swollen red flesh revealed the desperation for releasing, her hips subconsciously rocked towards the fingers, craving for them to draw her libido to her edge. Before she can even scream, the orgasm clogged her throat and her pussy squirted violently to the bowl. She fell back into the exotic table. Her face was now filled with redness defined only by the word fucked. She never been so thoroughly fucked that she squirted so much.
The tanned woman popped herself up, revealing herself across Carla’s breast. The first two fingers on her right were glistening with Carla’s nectar. The African woman shook her right hand in the air, showing signs of fatigue over her right arm. Carla thought this could be over now, until another one from the crowd quickly replaced her and sat in between Carla’s legs.
Only a few precious seconds passed that allowed her pussy to be freed of fingers, before another fresh pair plunged in and resumed where it was left off. Carla struggled violently, her pussy was maddeningly painful from the merciless orgasm. Her pussy needed rest, at least a few days of it, but those African women aren’t going to let that happen.
Her nipples hardened even more, involuntarily of course, that gave every pair of hands to tuck them. Her thighs began to feel overstretched due to her constant tensing. But those women knew better. More hands came to her service, massaging her thighs sensually, much forceful if necessary, to ease the tension while the strong fingers relentlessly dug her pussy.
Tears began to swell in her eyes, tears of pain, despite the constant reminder to relax from the people around her, as if encouraging her to test her limits, to break this challenge. But her tears weren’t permanent, nor does the pain. Once again, pleasure dictated her swollen flesh. Her need to come grew bolder. She muffled her pleas, telling them not to make her come anymore, but those pleas fell on deaf ears.
Their eyes were objective, fixed, and they were on a mission. A mission to make Carla come over and over again. They will not stop, will not stop until the bowl is full of her pussy nectar. The bowl barely half full, and despite the vast amount Carla blew off from her pussy, it’s still relatively little compared to the capacity of the bowl. It seemed that it can contain a few more mind blowing orgasms from Carla, and that’s what they wanted to do. To fill the bowl. The first test of becoming one of them.
Toes curled, thighs hardened, restrains tightened, and breaths labored. Carla had no choice but to let them make her come. She didn’t know they had a purpose. She didn’t know they wanted to fill the bowl. She didn’t even know a bowl was there in the first place. If she knew, she would have relaxed herself more and allowed her body to come as many as it takes to fill that bowl with her nectar.
After the forth orgasm, Carla began to loose consciousness. The heat from the sun was already overwhelming considering the heat only added to the reservoir inside her core. The people sprinkled water to her face to get her back to reality. She still need to come a few times and fainting now will end all that and she would have to redo again tomorrow, with a battered pussy.
She blinked, and tears rolled down, and then breathed, and exhaled and breath again and closed her eyes and groaned painfully, and once again, another orgasm was released. The woman fingering her pussy finally spent her last ounce of energy, and quickly another came in for a replace and resumed from where they had stopped.
Carla no longer cared anymore, she couldn’t. The orgasms had taken over her mind. Her mouth opened wide, gawking for air to fill her lungs. Her stomach was somersaulting. Her pussy was swollen twice its size, thickly red and wet, but nonetheless very accessible for the fingers. They continued to plow her pussy as professional as they could, ensuring that she had no other choice but to come.
She held it, they prodded harder, she fight against it, they penetrated faster, she ignored it, they teased her clit to attention. She had no way of ignoring it at all. It was as if her whole body shrunk into the very pussy being tortured and fingered relentlessly with extreme prejudice. Her mind loosed control. She’s on her way to her 8th orgasm.
She squinted her eyes tightly as pain and pleasure resonated simultaneously over her body. Then she screamed “Oh god oh god!” while panting faster than usual. And finally, another burst of nectar escaped the reluctant pussy and filling the last essential drops that marked the end of the ritual. Everyone cheered for some weird reason, but Carla didn’t care. What she cared for was the removal of the finger and no one came to replace. Slowly, the cheers began to fade away, darkness presented itself and she embraced it. She passed out.
THE END————————————–Chapter 2 is on the way