The following is a work of total fiction and intended solely for consumption by
those legally of age and where ADULT MATERIAL is permitted. Strong subject
matter is contained and is for those not easily offended by such.
Previous tales involve adventures on Panay. Any reuse of the material without
the author's express consent is strongly discouraged.
Thank you and enjoy.
Faibhar
Las Cruces 3
The converted WWII flying boat wallowed in the shallow waves. Happy to be back,
two mercenaries cleaned their automatic weapons in the aft part of the bare
fuselage. A soggy man hoisted himself through a hatch in its belly and
immediately huddled over the prostrate female. Dripping dollops of water, he
steeled himself and gingerly pulled down the drenched blanket. Grabbing into his
First Aid kit, the man quickly applied a thick compress to the chest wound. He
added a heavy ice pack on top of the compress where the female's breast should
have been. Inspecting the woman's face, he moved away soaked strands of her
hair, uncovering more of her disturbed beauty. As badly as his tortured patient
looked, she still might have a chance to survive.
From the flight deck, the pilot used his right hand to pull aside the olive drab
curtain separating the cockpit from the cargo hold. He shouted over the sound of
the idling props to the huddle man and said, "You said there'd be TWO! Where's
the other one?"
He could do no more. She might pull through, but then he was only a travel
guide, and no medical professional. The pilot's shouts tore him away from his
charge. He looked forward to the parted curtain and shouted back, "She's not
coming! Just get us the hell out of here!"
Four Days and a Night Earlier
Marla lifted her refilled champagne flute as their private dinner ended and
said, "Here's to our latest adventure, Las Cruces."
Charly raised her glass in answer to her mentor's toast. Ascending bubbles in
her glass, the same color of her hair, glittered. Her aqua colored eyes swam in
the heady romance of it all. They, and a good part of her fine featured face
glowed in the single candle centerpiece. More than ever, she was happy to be
included.
The crystal clinked as their glasses met. Marla again studied her protege.
Charly was all that was left from her company following the major sale, and had
been adamant about joining her. Marla had given in, to the point of allowing the
young woman to come along. She even admitted to earlier adventures in Panay, and
her fascination with being crucified.
Still, Charly was not content and insisted on traveling with her all the way to
where they now finished supping, in their suite in Madagascar. Marla stood and
walked over to the embroidered curtains partially concealing the Moroccan-style
arch. Glass in hand, she turned back to face the seated Charly. She may have
sold her company for a tidy profit to have more free time, but she still
retained her decision making power; this was to be the end of the line for her
sweet companion, despite her nosiness.
"Tomorrow, you will stay here and wait this weekend for my return on Monday."
Blood rushed to Charly's head on hearing Marla. The words crushed her. She
simultaneously protested and moved back her chair. She rushed to Marla, but was
stopped by the raised palm.
"I want you to see something," Marla said, and carefully unbuttoned her blouse.
Slipping it off her shoulders, she slowly turned her back to Charly. "This is
what I want, but I cannot put your beauty at risk just because of some whim of
mine..."
Charly was shocked, at first, and then looked closer at the scars crossing
Marla's back. The bra strap parted gray lines that networked over the tanned
flesh.
Marla stood looking out the hotel window at the stray lights of Madagascar. The
sharp intake of breath told her Charly got the not-so-subtle message. She kept
her shirt down as she silently peered into the night. Smart as Charly was, Marla
knew the girl was also terribly vain about her good looks. Showing what damage
previous trips gave her were sure to change Charly's mind.
Lights flickered throughout the night's sky. In the window's reflection, she
could see Charly standing behind her.
And then it was Marla's time to be shocked. The voice she heard from inside of
the room rose scarcely above a whisper. It said, "You are almost healed."
Marla pivoted and stared eye to eye with Charly, pulling up the long sleeves as
she did. "What do you mean, 'almost'?"
The same greenish eyes, so happy moments ago at the table, now were half-lidded.
Below the lashes twinkled an innocence mixed with devilish knowing. If there
were more than the single candle lighting the room, one could see Charly also
blush. Marla's demanding tone caused the tip of her tongue to slowly slide
across her slightly parted lips.
"Come. Let me heal the rest of you."
Befuddled, Marla let Charly gently lift her hand. Together they moved away from
the window toward one of the bedrooms. Marla followed.
Too many years, and much too much time had been spent wrestling with business
problems, Marla mused as she lay entangled with Charly under the sheets. Her
head rolled. She tenderly kissed her protege's bare shoulder. Marla was only two
years older, but what sophistication she may have learned running her own shop,
the younger woman obviously equaled when it came to giving and receiving
orgasms.
Charly stirred and partially opened her sleepy eyes. She looked at Marla and
said, "You're pretty good for an old lady." Her lips widened into a soft smile
and she kissed her mentor before Marla could smack her for her taunt. "But,
count me ready for more...that is, if you are."
Marla kissed her back and tasted sweetness, inhaling the slight citrus scent of
her skin. "Nope. Just thinking."
Charly sat up, eyes opening more. She unconsciously let the sheet uncover her
long nipples and full breasts. She brushed hair from her face and said,
"Thinking, huh? Care to share?"
Marla giggled and kissed one of Charly's full boobs swaying in front of her face
and said, "Just thinking about what's most important, is all. Like, maybe both
of us should stay put. After the weekend is over, we just fly back home."
Charly rolled over in the bed and straddled Marla. She pressed her hands onto
Marla's wrists and held them down. Blowing more hair from her face, she summoned
her considerable fortitude and said, "We came this far. We're not going back,
got that Miss Know-it-all? And both of us are heading out tomorrow to Las
Cruces, clear?"
They kissed and fell back into a slumber that lasted the few remaining hours
before daybreak.
Mid-morning the next day Marla smiled at Charly facing her across the narrow
interior of the vintage seaplane as it rattled into the hot sky. The former
entrepreneur's only carry-on baggage was warmth still lingering inside of her
from last night's interlude, and the package of grain they brought along for the
traditional gift to the chief of the tribe.
Realistically, however, a voice inside her head reminded her that placing Charly
in any sort of danger because of her own caprice was the last thing she should
do. But then, last night Charly had been pretty insistent that they go...
She closed her eyes as the seat shuddered with the aircraft and forced better
judgment from her head. Marla leaned against the metal fuselage interior as the
plane banked. Footsteps approaching from the front alerted her. She used a boot
to scoot aside the sack of grain.
"You must be Marla," the British voice said. "Allow me to introduce myself,
Collin Wydesforth, your guide."
Marla looked up at the half-bent man standing between she and Charly. Wydesforth
looked somewhere in his thirties, not too bad looking, though could use a bit
more sandy hair on top, and wore the popular safari jacket over khaki slacks.
"You got that right. This is Charly," she said and pointed to her protege. Both
blondes had decided on wearing identical shirt-dresses and hiking boots for the
trip.
"Charmed to meet you, I am sure," Wydesforth said. "But..."
"Don't worry, Wydesforth. I'm the one who arranged this trip. Charly's just a
companion. I'll pay her air travel if that's what you're after."
Wydesforth looked relieved. He wiped perspiration from his brow and plopped down
into the webbed seat next to Marla. Looking over his shoulder at the passing
sea, he turned back to her and said, "Very good, of course. But actually, as you
specified, we are headed toward a special place and I feel it only proper to
give you one final warning about the sort of people you'll meet there."
Marla winked at Charly and then shifted in her seat to face the perspiring
guide. "I think we know what we are doing..."
"But these are savages! The Ziam Ziam are the world's last fuckin' remaining
cannibals!"
Marla patronizingly shook her head and patted Wydesforth knee. His red face was
perspiring again. The seaplane banked another time and headed for a little-known
isolated island; part of an archipelago. From what she was able to research, the
tiny spit of land rose scarcely above the level of the sea. Less than forty
humans populated the tropical marine island, and was home for a bunch of
wildlife, including big birds.
Of the people she could find little information. "Sounds like a real adventure."
"Well," a chagrined Wydesforth said as he unbuckled his seat belt and climbed
back up to his feet. "I did what I can. Still, should you two survive through
this weekend, which I sincerely DOUBT, the plane and I will come pick you up on
Monday."
The two of them held hands on the beach. Frothy water narrowed as the seaplane
flew off in the distance.
"Boy, it sure is hot here," Charly said, the first to speak since they were
left.
"I think our reception party has arrived."
Both women turned and faced the six native Ziam Ziams that had appeared from
behind scattered palms fencing the beach from the interior jungle. Fingers
intertwined more as the two travelers held hands. Before them stood all males.
Scantily clad, the young men wore various markings and nose rings. All held
spears. One who seemed to be the leader beckoned them.
"Is this like it was before," Charly asked in a timid voice.
Marla held the soft hand in hers and said, "No. Before some things were vaguely
familiar. This is pretty strange." She looked next to Charly. Gauging from the
look on the other's face, Marla made up her mind that she better be the strong
one. "They want us to follow. We might as well."
Their boots plowed through the sand and they went to where the natives stood.
Just as they were close enough to reach out and touch, the men turned and walked
toward the jungle. Marla and Charly walked after them.
Foliage blocked out the burning sun's rays. Darkness replaced the light of the
day. Smells of decaying jungle reeked. There was a splash, and Charly shrieked
first. Marla turned to help, but hands shoved her too. Before she could lend a
hand, she fell hip-deep into the fetid stream. Across from her, she made out
Charly. Both sloshed waist-deep in the mangrove swamp. The low tropical canopy
forced the natives to bend as they carefully walked on the banks above the
narrow water, prodding the two wet women with spears as they wound their way
deeper into the darkness.
Sunlight ahead opened to a small clearing. Hands reached down to help Marla up
from the bank. Charly's second scream forced her to turn. Charly grew hysterical
as she batted at the slimy leeches on her clothes and legs. Marla looked down
and saw that the slimy slugs also covered her.
One of the Ziam Ziam came over and using the hot end of a burning stick expertly
removed the leeches. Charly and Marla stood as the leeches were burned off.
Marla looked at Charly and saw tears in her eyes. Both of their legs were dotted
by bloody spots where the leeches had been.
"It's only just beginning," Marla said in a comforting voice and stroked a side
of Charly's ponytail. She smiled kindly and whispered, " Keep yourself
together."
Charly was about to protest when the two were ordered to proceed. Ahead were two
thatched shacks, one slightly fancier than the other. The shacks were lifted off
the ground and sat perched atop stilts. Rope ladders dangled from the entrances
to each. From the corner of Marla's eye, she saw another small clearing. In it
stood a tall pole.
The two of them were separated, one toward each hut. Marla smiled as Charly was
led away. She climbed the ladder leading up to hers.
Behind her climbed the native that had carried her sack of grain when they first
arrived. He threw it down on the rush mat inside the smoky hut. Marla adjusted
her eyes and saw more natives sitting around the interior walls. They passed
some kind of drinking bowl between them. White eyes glared at her as she
entered.
The one who had carried the grain stood close to her. He gestured for her to
remove her clothes. Marla started to unbutton the top button when she froze. Her
head turned in the direction of Charly's scream. She imagined it came from the
other shack where her protege was getting more of the same.
Marla bent and untied her boots. She kicked them off, and then pulled off her
socks. Watching her undress as he sat on the floor was the one she supposed to
be the headman of the village.
Her guess was soon confirmed. Her body was used like another sack of grain, a
gift to the leader of the Ziam Ziams.
The screams she earlier heard emanating from the other shack abated after time.
Whatever it was they were drinking made the men she was with more and more
aggressive as she was passed around the room, raped by all present. Marla laid
her cheek on the rush mat and panted. Exhausted, she lay as the men continued to
rape her.
Hours passed until she heard only the jungle sounds. The natives had left.
Opening her eyes, she crawled across the mat to the doorway. Looking out, she
saw that it was night and saw no one. Too tired to search for Charly, she curled
up and fell back to sleep.
Above she made out her arms stretching to the partly cloudy sky. Some kind of
coir, or coconut rope, bound her wrists to the pole. Marla jerked, but the rope
held. Blinking her eyes more, she saw Charly being led her way, held between two
big natives. She still wore her shirt-dress, but it was opened to the waist. It
was obvious she wore nothing underneath, but at least she had something on; not
like Marla.
"Charly, wake up!" Marla harshly whispered to her protege as her wrists were
tied up by Marla's. Charly's head wobbled. She still looked out of it. Marla
supposed she was drugged.
"Hey you people," Marla shouted and twisted as they secured Charly's wrists next
to hers. "Leave her alone. Torture me if you want to, she's just along for the
ride."
None of the tribesmen seemed to understand English. They ignored Marla's angry
shouts. Charly stood, arms raised on the other side of the pole. Her opened
shirt brushed Marla's nipples.
"CHARLY! This could be trouble, wake up, dammit!"
Her blond hair slightly rustled. Charly's eyes barely opened, but her voice
sounded clear as she said, "This is what you wanted, Marla. Besides, there's no
one standing behind me holding a whip...like there is behind you."
Marla heard Charly and instantly looked past her head. She was right. There was
only jungle beyond.
Three cracks of the whip later Charly opened her drugged eyes wider. What once
sparkled now seethed a blood-shot reptilian yellow. Her white teeth snarled as
she lifted her face close to Marla's. The older woman was already drenched in
sweat. Clearly, the first three lashes had hurt.
"It is a cable made of bush rope, but first, "she leered at the sweating Marla.
"It is soaked in brine. All the more to hurt you, my dear..."
Another lash cut into Marla's back forcing her head to pound into the hard pole.
Stunned, her eyes closed and she could not decide what wounded her most:
Charly's words, or the whip.
The afternoon rain, depended much upon as the island's only source of fresh
water, poured from the skies. Charly was cut free and the others went to their
shelters, leaving only Marla alone and tied to the whipping post. Puddles of mud
grew around her bare toes. Scarlet drops fell into the puddles as the downpour
washed much of the blood off her lacerated back.
The sun quickly returned, and so did the villagers. Marla was turned until she
faced away from the pole. Her ponytail lay in wet tatters around her head. Her
vision was foggy, but she could see Ziam Ziam women had joined to watch.
Centermost sat Charly, Her long legs folded beneath her and her head resting in
the lap of the headman. Her thin fingers delicately stroked his massive mahogany
thigh. She hadn't bothered to button her top. Creamy breasts spilled from the
khaki. She drank from a bowl the big man offered.
The leader nodded his head and Marla saw another native. This one stood in
front, the dreaded brush rope cable gripped in his hand. She grimaced as he
swung. The wallop to her ribs took away her breath. She gasped, and tried to
focus on the man as he swung again. Sweat poured down her face. She forgot all
about Charly. Marla cried out as the next lash tore at her left breast. The sky
spun crazily. Her body shook with every strike. Marla slammed back into the
sturdy pole.
By the time she lost consciousness and hung limply from the pole by her wrists,
Marla was covered by bleeding wounds. Flies and mosquitoes eagerly feasted on
the fresh blood. The sky darkened by late afternoon and all except two natives
guarding the unconscious woman left. Various campfires showed in the near
distance. Stars illuminated the night's sky. Nocturnal noises from the jungle
produced sang their usual songs, the only addition being the occasional moans
from the hung human.
Rotting smells from the landscape were joined by a new odor, one of musk. In the
dark whines and sighs joined the other noises. The two Ziam Ziam guards took
cautious note. Marla groaned and raised her head, resting its back on the pole.
She was able to make out the two natives holding out there spears toward the
swamp. She looked in that direction and saw two low shapes crawling up onto the
bank, not far from where she hung. The faint firelights illuminated the two
pairs of red eyes. Crocodiles coming to eat her! She twisted and writhed, but
her bound wrists held fast to the wood. The two natives shouted and thrust forth
their spears until the crocodiles hissed frustration and slithered back into the
inky swamp.
That Sunday morning, Charly emerged from the tribal headman's shack as queen of
the Ziam Ziam. The transformed blonde climbed down the rope ladder wearing her
new regalia. Bark from cinnamon trees tightly wrapped around golden hair. Tufts
of gold locks crowned each column of bark that stuck out from her head at weird
angles. Around her neck she wore a native necklace of shells bearing a large
pendant: the palm seed fabled to be an aphrodisiac. She no longer wore the khaki
shirt dress, but instead kept her shoulders bare and wrapped a bandeau around
her full breasts. Beads formed a narrow loincloth. Her hips remained bare.
Cosmetically, heavy black stripes lined her eyes and across her cheeks.
Ruby-colored mud slashes diagonally accentuated her curves.
An escort of natives flanked their new queen to the whipping post. Stopping in
front of Marla, Charly swung her arm. The opened-fist slap to Marla's cheek was
hard enough to wake her up.
"Have a nice night out here?"
Marla started to groan again, but stopped. The Charly standing before her was
much different than any she had known before, and it wasn't just the outfit she
wore or the bizarrely spiked hair. There was something about the other woman's
eyes that told Marla the woman was still drugged, and maybe would not ever
return back to the Charly Marla once knew. Marla could only mumble a reply.
Charly gestured for the escort to cut Marla down. "We have a crucifixion,
remember?"
"Let's use this to tie your head back," Charly said as she stood atop the two
rocks piled next to the base of the pole. "And here, during the rain you should
have something to drink. Believe me, the home brew is good."
Marla stared at Charly in disbelief as the other removed the wrap around her
chest and wrapped it across Marla's forehead, tilting her face up and holding it
against the wood. Already her arms and chest ached, wrists tied by cords to a
crossbeam. She found strength to whisper as Charly wrapped the bandanna tighter
and said, "...no mas."
Charly laughed and insane laugh and said, " Oh, Marla...you are in for plenty
more. Here, drink." She pinched her mentor's nose and slightly tilted the wooden
bowl towards Marla's opened mouth. She poured more of the ground root liquid
made by the locals down Marla's throat, using a finger to wipe corners of her
mouth as some spilled.
"There you are. Enough for now," she said stepping off the rocks and once more
onto the island soil. The sun had long since evaporated moist summer off shore
air but was now hiding behind clouds. "Besides, I do believe its time for the
afternoon showers. Bye for now."
Marla had no choice but to see the darkening skies above. She felt whatever it
was she was forced to swallow begin to work. She tried to twist her wrists free,
but the cords held. Her breathing increased as the first few fat drops of rain
began to fall.
The deluge continued for almost an hour drenching the entire island. Through its
heaviest the crucified manically cried out, in agony from her tortures and mad
from the native hallucinogenic drink.
The villagers returned with the scorching rays of the sun. During the downpour,
Charly had, among other things, been anointed with more body art; oily blue
swaths now painted her naked breasts. She girlishly skipped over to where Marla
hung and stepped once more onto the pile of rocks, the better to speak directly
into Marla's face.
"Some rainfall, huh? Sure glad I was inside."
Marla parted her swollen lids. In front of her swayed the stalks of cinnamon
bark and blond hair above garish black lines covering eyes she thought she knew
so well, but now were entirely foreign.
"Uhm...those cords? The ones binding your wrists to the wood? Soon as they start
drying, which given this heat they probably already are, they're gonna start
shrinking."
Marla closed her eyes and tried to turn her head away. Ever since the rain had
stopped she had felt her wrists being cut. The crazed bitch was right about the
shrinking part.
"And, this short little one, its soaked too, and made of the same stuff."
Her lashes parted, and she craned her head as best she could, looking down over
her cheeks. She saw Charly winding the wet cord around the base of her left
breast. When she pulled it tight, the breast swelled in size. With the drugged
drink still at work on her mind, the swollen orb changed a myriad of colors.
"We'll give that just a moment or too," Charly said and stepped down. "I'll be
back, but be sure not to go anywhere..." She laughed as she ran back to join the
headman.
Marla's head cleared more. She felt the warm trickle of blood slide down her
arms from the cutting wrist cords. More movement passed before her. Ziam Ziam
women constructed a circular oven by piling smaller rocks. They filled the
interior of the oven with kindling that looked so dry, it must have been
sheltered inside. She was about to study the oven more when Charly's macabre
face popped in front of her.
"Back like I said...Now let's see what we have here. Oh, very nice."
Marla steeply glanced down sweating her face. What held Charly's attention was
her swollen breast. Now it was swollen twice as big and dark purple, and that
was no hallucination! Long before the native women began their oven
construction, the pain in her breast had become so severe that Marla had felt
mere numbness. Now, as Charly thumbed the engorged nipple, sensations returned.
The chief of the Ziam Ziam came over next to his new queen. He wrapped a heavy
brown arm around her white thighs and held her steady. Many others on the island
gathered around.
Marla screamed out as Charly worked the sharpened wood pick into the center of
her nipple. She screeched as the sharp wood dug deeper. Forgetting about her cut
wrists, her arms flexed. Marla writhed as the wood sunk more.
The chief steadied Charly as she pulled out the pick. A rich stream of shiny
blood shot out, spraying him and his queen. Behind him a chorus of cheers
erupted as the blood inundated the chief and his woman. His bloody grinned
showed approval for the way his new queen drank the blood of her companion.
Charly did not stop with the nipple. Bloody fingers wrapped around the sharpened
pick and she stabbed and stabbed at the swollen breast until a fountain of red
sprayed out. Reaching down for the headman's knife, she took it and sliced free
the breast. Torrents of blood gushed from the fresh chest wound.
Marla regained consciousness. A peculiarly sweet smoke wafted up. Gazing down
from the cross, she saw her own severed breast being grilled. The bloody whacko
blonde was stripping out a narrow and shallow slice of her inner thigh when
Marla passed out again.
Epilogue
Wydesforth bundled Marla as best he could as he laid her on the ground. Overhead
loomed the bloody cords he had sliced to release her once he found that she was
still alive. Running feet, scattered automatic fire and screams of scared Ziam
Ziam traveled away.
Marla shuddered and weakly parted her eyelids. Above her, she saw the Englishman
from the plane and muttered, " Thought you weren't coming 'til tomorrow."
"Complaining I decided to check on you a day early?"
She answered with a tired smile and closed her eyes.
"Get ready, as we're still not off this godforsaken island and I dare say, you
won't be coming back to this Las Cruces anytime soon. What about your friend?"
Marla didn't open her eyes, but did say, "She can stay."
