Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Laura Croft and the Venus Thigh Trap

   Part 2 of ?

   Hung upside down, naked and spread under the waterfall by the animate
vines, Laura Croft's senses are so overloaded that time slips past in a
sexual daze.

   The morning passes, and the slanting shaft of sunlight swings to
vertical, for a while highlighting the falls and her shuddering,
water-pummelled figure within the plume.  The golden object embedded in her
sex sparkles brightly through the cascade.  More time passes, as the shaft
of light drifts further on, leaving her in shadow.

   In as much as she can concentrate in snatches despite the relentless
pounding of the waterfall upon her perpetually spasming pussy, she wonders
how it is that her delicate parts have not been battered into numbness by
now.  She thinks perhaps its something to do with the vine's injected
venom, keeping every square millimetre of her skin super-sensitive.  Some
sort of nerve stimulant...  which she wishes did not work so well,
especially on her water-pummelled clitoris.  If only it would go numb, if
only she could stop the orgasms...  There must be some way to escape this,
if only she could think for a moment...

   She drifts in and out of lucidity, as orgasm after orgasm exhausts her
beyond the ability to even think of struggling against the vines wrapped
tightly around her, immobilising her upside down and spread eagled.  Her
vagina feels like the falling water is driving fists inside her, with each
dropping wave that impacts into the upturned opening of the heavy gold
phallus still sunk deeply in her sex.  Nor does it help that the metallic
shaft is pressing down into her with all of its very considerable weight.
Absolutely beyond her ability to push it all the way out with her abdominal
muscles, even if the vines weren't holding it loosely in place.  The best
she can manage, straining, is to push it out a few inches, and hold it
there, briefly.  But then she tires, or an orgasm will make her relax after
a clenching spasm, and the several pounds of metal will drop back, hard and
deep.  Once more stretching her vagina to its absolute limits.

   Her rope is still hanging down from the entrance above the waterfall's
lip, and she is staring at it in a between-orgasm moment, thinking how near
it is and yet so far from her captive hands.  Is she really going to die
here, she thinks?  Death of a thousand climaxes...  she'd laugh at the
craziness of it all, if she wasn't about to come, again.  As she helplessly
feels the rise towards her next, inevitable, unwanted orgasm, the rope
jerks, then starts swinging from side to side.  She hears a noise above;
the 'wzzzzz...' of a descender, faintly over the white noise roar of the
water.  She cannot look up, and now she is about to...  ahhh...  nooo... 
another orgasm makes her shudder weakly in the vine's embrace.

   As she comes, the new arrival descends into her view.  Bucking and
shuddering in the throes of her climax, she is momentarily beyond reacting
to a mere rescuer.  Who is now hanging motionless on the rope, descender
locked off, as he coolly contemplates her in her helpless, oblivious
writhing.

   When she exhaustedly returns to the world of the comprehending, she
curses to herself.  It _would_ have to be Vance Harding suspended there,
sneering at her.  Vance, the notorious robber of historical sites, friend
of every shady dealer in antiquities, in every black market, in every
trouble spot in the world.  Vance, who'd once made some extremely unwelcome
advances that time they'd found themselves booked into the same sleeping
compartment on the trans-Siberia express.  Totally by chance, he'd
maintained, the lying scoundrel.  Perhaps she should not have thrown his
bags off the train into that gorge as a farewell gesture.  She hopes the
stupid oaf has brought a knife with him, if he isn't simply her own
sex-soaked, vine-drugged hallucination.

   "Vance, are you real?  When you've finished staring, cut me loose, will
you?"

   He just hangs there, silent, his faint expression of amused contempt
rapidly becoming something much more worrying.  He looks like he's
contemplating some profitable scam - a look she's seen before.  That's
always a bad sign, for whoever he's planning to steal from.

   If that look wasn't enough to convince her this is no delusion, she
knows for sure when he reaches across to her, and runs his hand over her
water-pounded nakedness.  That's no illusion groping her breast, then her
sex around the lingam.  She'd been drifting in and out of consciousness
before, but his touches rouse her to almost alertness.  She knows she'd
_never_, not even delirious, imagine her oafish arch rival taking such
liberties.  She grinds her teeth as another of the endless orgasms shudders
through her exhausted body.  He sneers even more evilly as his hands on her
flesh feel the tremors she cannot entirely suppress.  Why did it have to be
_him_ of all possible rescuers?

   Grinning, quite aware of why her body jerked and twitched, he tugs at
the various vines holding her in position, judges them firm, and so her not
an immediate problem.  He doesn't even bother to speak to her.

   He then considers the rest of the chamber, shining a powerful torch into
the dimness of the late afternoon gloom, now the sun's rays no longer
penetrate here.  Sees the camera setup, and the active roots still twisting
about on the stone floor.  Judging them harmless if treated with care (and
his machete), he continues downwards on the rope.  He avoids a dunking in
the pool at the bottom due to her care in tying off the rope - curse him,
she thinks just before another exhausting orgasm drives her senseless for
some moments.

   Casually he explores the chamber, taking his time.  At her camera, he
examines the setup.  He's still in the corner of her inverted field of
view, and she grinds her teeth as he examines the granite pyramid at the
centre of the camera's focus.  He stoops to examine the now empty
receptacle at its apex, with its exaggerated female carving.  He looks up
at her, laughing loudly.  Calls out "Laura, you had to _try_it_out_, didn't
you!  I'd have expected you to be more professional!  I hope you haven't
_damaged_ the artefact!  Ha ha ha!  Oh, shall I recover your film?  Yes, no
need to answer, I understand how it is when you are busy."

   He strolls over to her camera, extracts the film, and pockets it. 
Wanders around some more, examining her gear.  Frees her pistols from the
mat of roots, and pockets them too.  Laughs, holding up her shrunken
leather jumpsuit.  "Hey Laura, you on a diet or something?  I'd swear this
is too small for you." He makes a show of turning out the inside crotch
area of the suit, and taking a long, deep sniff.  "Awww, you got them all
wet and they shrank!  You should take better care of spunky looking gear
like this.  But never mind, I have other leather that will fit you."

   He moves to turn away, but one of his boots has been captured by a vine
while he wasn't moving.  "Ha ha...  stupid fucking animated pot plant!  Did
you find out what they called this thing?" he shouts to her, while making
short work of that tendril with his machete.  "Juice Hunter!" It likes
_pussy_ juice!  Can you believe it?  Oh, of course, I guess you can by now,
ha ha!  Fuck me...shit.." Another vine had got his other foot, and that one
too gets the chop.  "You wouldn't want to stand still in one spot for too
long in here, would you?!  Well, unless you were real busy fucking a fat
gold cock, like someone we know, eh Laura?"

   He swaggers around, collecting up her gear and packing it back into her
rucksack.  "Yeah, this damned thing...  they bred it from something in the
forest that liked to catch and eat small animals I guess.  Well...  not
'eat' exactly.  It just holds on until they die, then their flesh falls
into the vine's roots, and fertilises the ground.  During which, it
flowers. Did you see those blooms in the pond?  Truly stunning specimens- I
expect this critter will be a huge and very profitable hit with the
glasshouse set back home.  The ones who can afford its special feeding
needs, if you know what I mean, ha ha ha.  You figured that one out yet? 
Ha ha." He continues chuckling to himself, sometimes glancing up at her, as
he finishes the packing.  Done with her gear, he carefully examines the
vine's structures around the chamber.  He takes some of the vine fruits in
sample bottles, together with various small clippings, and some examples of
curiously shaped fibrous nodules with clumps of fine tendrils emerging from
one end.  As he works, he calls out to her again in a casual tone, as if
addressing a companion.  "Hey Laura, you thought I was here to steal that
gold dick you've been messing with, didn't you?  Well, naturally, that too.
But there are things here _much_ more valuable than that, don't you know?
And I'm not even counting you, though you'll make the whole trip much
more...  heh _entertaining_.  The vine is not the only treasure.  You'll
see."

   Re-attaching his dumars to the rope, he frees the rope end and ties it
to her gear, jammed against the rock wall ringing the pool.  He dumars
strongly back up to her, and once more hangs there, grinning predatorily.
First he toys with her again, appraising the feel of her body, and how she
reacts to his touch.  "Hah...  even exhausted and pounded, you still feel
it huh?  I wondered about that.  The texts I found mentioned the vine venom
has a long lasting sensitivity stimulation effect.  Excellent, even more
money.  Oh, this is making me so happy, my dear.  Thank you for finding the
final clue, that was very thoughtful of you.  Much appreciated."

   "Vance, you bast...  mmmff!"

   He cuts her off, with a hand cupped over her mouth.  "Now, now, Laura!
Is that any way to speak to your rescuer?  Would you rather join the bones
at the bottom of that delightfully charming sacrificial pool?  No, no... 
You just be quiet now, or I may save myself the bother of hauling you out
of here.  Seriously, not a word, understand.  Did you even check what was
in those bags you tossed off the train?  It was most embarrassing you know,
explaining to my client what happened to the item I'd been transporting. 
I'm a teensy bit annoyed with you about that, and would have been very
annoyed indeed, if my client had been able to make good their threats to
kill me.  My, they were so _very_ upset!  One of a kind, priceless relic,
you know the deal.  Tossed in a bloody river.  Splendid."

   His other hand brings the point of his large, sharp knife against her
breast, pressing in till the tip nearly cuts her.  "I'd almost prefer to
have the pleasure of paying you back for that little joke of yours right
now.  Or, I could leave you to the vines - except that would be such an
abstract revenge, since I won't be around for the week or two you'll take
to die here.  You certainly won't go thirsty, and its warm in here, isn't
it?  Death by slow starvation, or perhaps cerebral haemorrhage.  I don't
suppose the unending orgasms would do much to hasten your demise, unless by
finally blowing an artery in your brain, so you'd possibly even enjoy it.
So, Laura, you _are_ going to be quiet.  If I want to know anything from
you, I'll ask.  Got that?"

   She looks at him.  He's clearly not kidding - it would be just like him
to actually leave her here.  She nods.  He lets go of her mouth.  "Good
girl.  I'm sure we'll learn to get along.  Ha ha!"

   After playing some more, apparently just for the heck of it, he cuts
loose the Lingham, and pulls it slowly out of her.  Puts it back, and fucks
her with it some, observing cynically as she gasps and hunches helplessly
back at the thrusts.  Finally, since she is too exhausted and too rigidly
tied to really put on much of a show, he stows it in his pack, then
attaches the rope to one of her ankles via a loop.  Cuts free most of the
vines around her body, leaving her suspended by one vine to her other
ankle, hands still vine-bound bound behind her.  Now her other leg is
weighed down by the wet rope, and she finds it hard to avoid doing a wide
split.  He dumars away up into darkness, leaving her, the water now
pounding directly into her sex every time she swings back under the fall.

   After a few minutes, the rope to her ankle goes tight, then the vine
still on her goes slack and falls down, cut.  Still doing the splits, only
now hanging by her other leg, she feels herself being hoisted up.  After
some bumping and scraping she reaches the top, where Harding and three
villainous looking latinos are heaving on the rope.  She is dumped, wet and
naked, on the sandy floor.  They cut away the remaining roots, in the
process rolling her over and getting her completely covered with the gritty
sand.  When they cut the matted fibres from her hips, and around her sex,
there is much ribald chatter in Spanish among the four men.  Her clitoris,
revealed from the hollow tuberous vine organ that had encased it, is still
remarkably swollen and they seem greatly amused by its size, much to her
shame.

   They tie her with ropes, Japanese style, made more uncomfortable by the
sand on the ropes and in her sex under the tight double strand pulled
tightly up into her slit.  Once she is secured, they haul some more on the
rope still descending into the shaft, and bring up her gear.

   The awkward and trackless route back to her camp, now theirs too, is a
torment of rope-chaffed sandy sex, aching swollen breasts, and 'helping'
hands that are not shy of using handy (and sandy) intimate parts to get a
good grip on her.  All of her body, and especially around her breasts and
sex where the vine thorns had pricked their venom into her, is tingling and
very sensitive - so much so that she finds the brush of leaves a kind of
sensual torture.

   Arriving at camp just before dusk, they remove the ropes and have her
lie down on her back on a lightweight fold-out stretcher - two aluminium
poles with canvas slung between, and short fold-down legs.  They tie her
ankles to the pole ends at one end, and her wrists to the others, above her
head.  Then they leave her alone, as Vance and his companions prepare
dinner.  She wonders what happened to her own four porters, but so far she
has not seen any sign of them.  Presumably, Vance has either paid them off,
or simply driven them off.  More likely the latter, since it would be the
cheaper option.

   Not that she expects any help from them - she'd been more worried about
the looks they'd been giving her on the trek here.  Ever since her party
had left civilised areas she'd been sure to keep her guns handy, since the
porters were obviously giving the matter of their employment contracts some
thought.  Along the lines of renegotiating the bits about carrying her
gear, rather than simply raping and killing her, then fading into the
jungle.

   One thing that occurs to her about this whole situation is that although
she is now tied up naked, and probably will be raped, at least she is naked
inside a mosquito netted tent, rather than outside naked at their campfire,
exposed to the ravenous insect nightlife.  There are clearly gradations of
'a fate worse than death'.

   She doesn't wonder much about what Vance intends with her.  Its sure to
be bad.  What does worry her, in a most disturbing and insistent way, is
that for some reason her clitoris and nipples simply will _not_ stop doing
their painfully erect, throbbingly sensitive, aching, thing.  And her
breasts are feeling, if anything, even more full and sensitive than they
did when the vine venom was stinging them.  Lifting her head, she can see
in the indistinct firelight through the tent walls that her nipples are
standing up, dark and hard.  Perhaps its something to do with the last hour
of constant brushing by leaves on the way here?  But that doesn't really
explain the condition of her clitoris, which seems even larger and harder
than it was when they released it from the vines.  It had been held
prisoner by the clasp of the crotch ropes for the last hour, and she'd have
thought that the discomfort of the rough fibres and sand would have
discouraged it.  But no...  She even finds that she wishes she could touch
it - which she thinks amazing, considering.

   But anyway, she can't.  She can't even squeeze her legs together.  She
just has to lie there, listening to the clinking of utensils as the men
perform some approximation of cooking, their ribald jokes in Spanish, and
the random yowls and screeches of the jungle darkness.  She can't help but
wonder if she'll soon be adding her own shrieks and moans to those noises.

   Those thoughts circle around and around in her mind, yet she is
surprised with herself - she doesn't seem to find the prospect as
terrifying as it ought to be.  Perhaps it is the persistent, intense and
distractingly aroused state of her genitals, that prevents her mind from
dreading what might happen.  It must be that, she tells herself.  Something
to do with the irritation from that venom, that makes her hips squirm as
images of herself being fucked by all four men in turns, hover in her head.
Her sex has become soooo itchy and swollen- it must be the venom, she is
certain.

   "Senorita Croft, you eat now?"

   What?!  She realises she has let her eyelids drift closed.  And...  oh
no, her hips were lifted up off the cot, as she imagined...  oh no! 
Looking around, she finds all four men squatting around her in the tent,
leering at her by lantern light, and munching on the food they have brought
into the tent to eat.  Harding is by her head, silent - one of the others
spoke.  Harding is holding what looks like a riceball near her mouth. 
Damn! Did she get that carried away, that she didn't even hear them come
into the tent?  How...

   She forces her body to relax back onto the cot, though it takes an
effort of will to keep it there.  God, her sex is so...  arrrgh!  That
venom has a strong effect.  But she is hungry too, and accepts the food. 
Surprisingly, its quite tasty.  Fish...  they must have caught some fish at
the last river.  And some nuts, and spices...  not bad.  As he eats,
silently, he passes her another, dropping it into her open mouth when she
finishes the previous.  He also gives her water, when he has some.  Only
then he reminds her of the present, by also pouring a thin trickle of water
onto her chest and stomach.  It feels nice and cool in the warm humidity,
but having all the men burst into bawdy laughter as he ends the trail at
her sex, and the tickling cool water on her hotly throbbing labia makes her
hips jerk upwards again...  that she could have done without.

   "Why Laura!  You seem to have recovered your appetite very quickly,
after that little tryst with the vines.  Its certainly a pleasure, to see a
hungry girl enjoying her food!  Would you like some more?  Oh...  pardon my
manners, I quite forgot - you may speak now.  Only, respectfully!"

   She is just beginning to open her mouth, when he cuts back in.  "Ah, one
other thing - to save us all a lot of time, the answer is no.  No clothes,
no untying, no bargaining, and no, you don't get to say no.  Or rather, you
can say no all you like, but it will have no effect other than adding to
our entertainment, and your punishment if you get tiresomely repetitive
about it.  When you wish to go to the toilet, ask.  The answer may well be
no...  depending.  Now, are you still hungry?  You've only had two
riceballs - not much after such a busy day, big growing girl and all."

   She is silent for a long moment.  He just answered the first ten or so
questions and demands she was about to make.  She has the sense to realise
it would be pointless to argue...  and she _is_ very hungry.

   "Yes please.  I'd like more." Harding's companions break into coarse
laughter, slapping hands on their thighs as they rock, squatting.  She
grimaces, realising how their uncouth minds warped her comment into a
sexual statement.  "No, I meant...  sigh...  I'd like another rice-ball."
They redouble their laughter, and she realises it happened again.

   Harding grins at her.  "Forgive them, they are simple folk, and eager
for you.  But that's later.  First, eat.  Only...  I tell you what.  Since
they cooked this food, lets have you show them your appreciation.  The way
you were as we came in - the hungry, famished woman look.  Heh.  When you
convince me you are _really_ starving, I'll feed you.  You just lay your
head back, close your eyes, and keep your mouth open.  I'll pop in a
riceball when I think you are doing good."

   She stares at him.  For a moment, she is about to burst into shocked
defiance, but he raises a finger and shakes it 'no' at her, reminding. 
Picks up another riceball from the heaped dish, and scoffs it.  "Mmmmm,
these really are delicious, eh?  Shall I have another?  Why yes, thanks, I
will!" He does.  "Don't let me hold you up here, Laura.  You know you want
to - look at your clit!  It must be really aching, huh?"

   In truth, it is, she has to admit to herself.  Very much.  Her whole sex
is aching, in that 'please do me' way.  Intensely.  Even as she drops her
head back on the cot, closing her eyes to think about this, she feels her
hips hunch upwards on their own.  Not waiting for her brain's decision. 
Its so humiliating...  and she is very hungry, and they are tasty...  um,
the _riceballs_ are tasty, she corrects her half-formed thought.  She
sighs...  'when rape is inevitable'...  why not pretend one is dying for
it...  if that's what it takes to get fed.  Her body nods agreement, with
her hips.  She gives in, and lets Miss Pussy run the show.  Miss pussy
turns out to be one of those 'take charge' kind of girls, and soon has her
whole body humping for the team.  Apparently her whole body doesn't mind
that she is putting on a show for four perverted men, who's excited loud
comments don't allow her to forget they are right there, leaning close in
the tent.

   She grinds, and thrusts, her sorely swollen sex meeting only air, and so
frustratingly!  It gets confusing, her open mouth panting, and waiting for
a riceball, and her vagina waiting for...  something.  Well, not so much
'waiting for', as aching for.  Aching, itching, needing...

   She feels a riceball at her lips, and gobbles it greedily, chewing
quickly.  She needs to breathe through her mouth, needs to pant... 
Swallows, and opens her mouth wide again.  To gasp, or accept more food. 
Suddenly there is another morsel at her lips, at the same moment a hand
touches her lightly on the breast.  Its confusing, even more so as the hand
kneads her flesh in time with her chewing.  The flavour, and her action in
chewing, seem to become mixed up with the feelings in her breast.  She
swallows it, and the hand is gone.  Another ball...  and another hand on
her other breast this time.  It mimics the timing of her chewing so well,
it almost feels like she is pleasuring her own breast with her mouth.  And
her pussy - as her nipples are caressed, the feelings in her sex flare even
hotter.

   She can hear the rustle of clothes being shed.

   With the next ball, more hands descend on her body, this time her legs
as well as her breasts.  Everywhere but where she...  Chewing hard, she
thrusts her sex hard up, jerking it into the air, thighs fallen wide. 
'Please, feed my pussy too...' But the hands work all over her legs,
squeezing much like the working of her jaw.  She doesn't want to swallow,
she wants it to go on.  But she must breathe!  She swallows, gasps in a
deep lung full of air, and the hands vanish.

   "Oooohhhh!  Noooo!" She gasps, her body writhing.  "Please..."

   "Would you like another?" As Harding speaks, he places the palm of his
hand over her eyes.  How did he know she was about to look at him?  "No. 
Keep your eyes closed.  Another then."

   With his hand still over her eyes, she is given another rice ball.  And
as she closes her mouth on it, the hands return, all over her except... 
still nothing touches her sex!  She strains her hips up as high as she
can...  and something large is pushed in under her bottom, between her and
the bunk.  She lets herself fall back, but hardly moves - her hips are now
wedged higher up than any other part of her, with her mons now held as the
pinnacle of her body's mountain.  The hands tease around the slopes,
stroking and squeezing right up to the edge of her sex.  She thinks if
nothing touches her there soon, she will scream.  Then hands at her breasts
switch to rolling and teasing her nipples, and the feeling this triggers in
her sex makes her need to scream right now!.  But she is still chewing, and
can't.  She swallows, the hands remove.

   "Arrrrghhhh!  Nooooooo!!!!  Ooooooohhh!!"

   "Oh, is our poor cooking that awful?  You don't want any more?"

   "Yes...  please, more.  Its...  very nice."

   His hand removes from her eyes, and this time she keeps them shut. 
There is a pause, and she feels something shifting on the bed.  Then, in
the same moment, another riceball is touched against her lips, and
something warm touches her directly on her upraised and spread sex.  She
opens her mouth wide, and bites the riceball from the fingers holding it.
As she does it, the thing thrusts suddenly and deeply into her wanting
pussy.  She hadn't known if it was a cock, or fingers, but long thick hard
cock is what's now filling her.

   Her muscles grab hard at the shaft inside her, while above her Vance's
voice hisses "All that drama on the train, over my generous offer of a fine
pussy pounding, and now look at you.  Gasping for it.  Fuck women are nuts.
Always with the pretence your pussies don't want filling - but take away
the choice and you fucking do want it.  Nuts.  Mmmmmm....  tight, warm,
wet, horny...  and nuts.  Mmmmfmmmm....  mmmm..."

   Somewhere at the back of her mind, there's a feeling that she ought to
be annoyed at him, for raping her, not to mention insulting her, and all
women.  'Nuts, nuts...' She tries to get herself angry, but there's a
problem.  About seven or eight inches of big, hard problem, pounding in and
out of her cunt, by the feel of it.  Its distracting.  Its....

   A little while later, it occurs to her that she hasn't been thinking at
all, just lying there, straining to thrust her hips up to match each
thrust, and feeling the inner roar of an approaching orgasm.  Its clearly
going to happen, and happen in a huge way, regardless of how she feels
about it.  She can tell.  She can't remember what she was thinking about
before.  Something about nuts...  She drops the thought, and concentrates
on the roaring feeling, growing....

   Vance's voice breaks her concentration.  "Uh, ummm...  Ha!  mmmm... 
Look at you....  ummmmmhh.....  hey, here's an idea for you...  uhhhhh,
ummmff....  mmmm....  how about this...  mmmmmfff....  hah, your pussy is
squeezing, I like that....  mmmm.....  hufff....  anyway, lets say....  if
you don't come in the next hour, we'll let you go.  Mmmmmm...  how about
that?  Deal?  Huuummmm....  huuhhhh....  Ahhh....  fuck thats good..."

   She hears him.  Tries to consider...  not working...  'try not to cum?'
The concept almost slips away.  She _is_ going to cum, and soon.  But she
grabs the idea...  'let her go?  Would they really?  Maybe...  one thing
about huge cocks...  uh, about Vance, is he says what he means.  Usually.'
For a moment, she resolves to not let herself come, and tries to stop
herself thrusting, and that clenching that's going on in her sex.  Her
attempt has absolutely no effect.  Her body goes right on doing what it
wants, and so does the building anticipation in her sex.

   "Ha ha ha....  ahhhhh..  mmmm.....  What, you don't believe me?!  Really
Laura!  How could you mmfff...  mmmmmhhh....  doubt me?  My _word_ Laura!
Ummmmm...  lovely....  No?  You're still fucking back?  Like it huh? 
Ummm....  yeah, love it, huh?  mmm....  hhhhfff....  Well, seriously, you
are passing up a great deal here....  you look like you really want to cum,
huh?  Ok, ummmhhh!  huuhhhff!  yeah...  OK, so how about, no cum, you go
free, uummmm..  but if you _do_ cum, I and my fine compadres here, will
ummmmfff, ummmm....  will spend the rest of the evening fucking you over
and over.  ummffff...  Oh, and for the rest of the trip back too. 
hhhhhhhnnnn...  mmmm...  ah, you want it all the way?  mmm...  So that's
the deal, Laura.  No cum, freedom.  Cum, and we'll all rape your cunt every
day for months.  Maybe forever, huh?  Mmmmm....  that's odd, you don't seem
to be listening, Laura?  fffhhhhmmmm...  ohhh...."

   'Raped....  raped....  months...' she thinks.  She really, really tries
to concentrate.  But it seems her mind is still not working, and her body
isn't listening at all.  There's a desperate, burning urgency in her sex,
that somehow images of rape makes more powerful.  Her hips jerk powerfully
towards every thrust of that hard cock reaming deep inside her.  The
tension in her belly is about to...  about to...

   "Laura!  I'm insulted!  I think you doubt my word!  Uhh....  yeah.... 
All right, then...  mmm...  I _swear_...  uh...  uh...  mmmmMMmmhhh oohhh
yeah...  Yeahhhh...  I SWEAR Laura..  Uhhhh uuhhhh mmmmmmMMMmm....  on my
seed....  uuhhhh...  do you accept?  On my seed, your freedom if UHhhhhh if
you don't come, or your service if you do...  uhhhh yeassss, squeeze if you
agree...  oohhhhh nice, OK, I take that as a yes....  and here...  uuhhhh
uhhhh is my...  oohhhhHHH UUUhhhhhHHHH YES UHHHMMMMMMM!!  HMMMMMM!  WORD!
AHHHHHHHH!  AHHHHhhmmmm HHMMMM Ohhhmmmmm....  HHMMMMMMM....  hhmmmmm....

   As he shouts his release, and she feels his hard cock jet deep into her,
her senses explode.  Every muscle in her body locks solid, as her sex and
brain seem to merge into one whole-body storm of surging ecstasy.  She can
distantly hear her own voice moaning in counter point to his yells, as her
body shudders in waves of pleasure from each pulsing thrust of semen into
her womb.

   She feels his jettings slow, and stop, but she is still riding the wave.
Then, like a flash of lightning in a storm, his fingers stroke over her
clit, and she spasms again, shouting in the shock of renewed climax.  It is
so incredibly, unnaturally powerfully sensitive!  His cock is still inside
her, motionless, and she can hear him chuckling as he fingers her bud,
bringing her to peak after peak of shuddering, moaning, pussy-spasming
pleasure.  It doesn't seem to get any less intense, going on and on....

   Eventually he stops, and she lies gasping for breath, stunned, barely
conscious, her entire body still shivering with echoes of her orgasms.

   "Well, I'll take that as a cum.  And thank you for your kind agreement
to service myself and my compadres here, whenever we wish.  Very
compassionate of you, Miss Croft.  Heh heh..." She feels him pull his still
hard member from her sex, and lift off her.  "Ah, you are such a fine
sight, and your snatch certainly does...  I could go again right away.  But
mustn't be greedy, eh?  Time for my friends.  I'll get back to you later.
You know, I do believe that vine venom seems to have had some effect on
your sexual capacity.  Or were you always able to achieve continuous
multiple orgasms like that?  Never mind, I can see you are a little puffed
now, we'll discuss this possibility later."

   "Vance....  Vance...  I..  that wasn't...  I didn't agree to....  you
can't.."

   "Shh...  Oh course Laura, I wasn't joking.  But I knew you'd come.  So,
you will do as we wish, just as if I had offered nothing.  Now, do not
upset Yuan here with arguments, his English is not good.  But his cock is
very big, eh?  Enjoy.  Oh, I see you are...  good."

   Its true, the rod being thrust into her by the man now over her is very,
very big.  Her sex is already running with fluids, and the fat head slips
right in, followed by the fat shaft, and more fat shaft, and more...  She
moans, shocked out of her daze by how good it feels, already, so soon after
such a massive series of climaxes.  Which....  seem...  to...  be...  uh...
oohhhhhhh....  about to....  uuhhhmmmm....  repeat....

   "You haven't said hello to Yuan yet, Laura.  Aren't you going to say
hi?"

   As Yuan begins to piston his cock in earnest, suddenly she is right back
in that cyclic orgasm, almost without warning.  "ooohhhh...  ooHHHH! 
OOOHYYIIIII!!  OYYYHHIII!" and her thoughts cease, again.

   "That's better.  A girl should always be polite on a first penetration,
I say."

   It is a long evening, but for Laura, time slips by in a sexual daze,
with few moments of intelligent comprehension.  Sometimes she is aware
enough to be frightened by the strength of her body's responses - they are
far, far more intense than anything she has experienced before.  When she
can wonder, she wonders why this is.  Her long abstinence?  Something to do
with the vine thorn stings?  Or...  that she is bound and helpless,
perhaps? Somehow, it does seem exciting, being at the mercy of such... 
such...  villains, as Harding and his men.

   The strangest thing, is that her pussy does not seem to become less
sensitive as the rapes continue.  More so, if anything.  She remembers that
it was the same under the waterfall - now almost any touch in that area
brings her to body-wrenching climaxes.

   It even turns out to be not just her sex that is extra sensitive.  Later
in the evening, when all the men have had their fill of fucking, they are
sitting around her naked body, chatting over her.  She is damp with sweat
and smeared sexual fluids, and they are using her body as a kind of
gesturing aid, in their rapid Spanish discussion.  They play their hands
across her flesh, and particularly her breasts.  To their pleasurable
surprise, they discover that squeezing her hardened nipples causes a little
milk to express, and they become occupied with taking turns two by two, to
suck on her teats.  After a few minutes of this, and their joking banter
meanwhile, she is surprised to find herself bursting into orgasm again -
just from having her nipples sucked.  They find this very entertaining, not
to mention less strenuous than fucking for the nth time, so they keep doing
it for a long while, laughing and joking about her sensitivity, and endless
capacity for spectacular orgasm.

   Finally, they leave her alone after letting her pee into a bottle they
hold against her mound.  Exhausted, she falls asleep at once.



   - - - - - - -



   Hanging, hanging under the pounding waterfall, her body hammered and
aching with supersensitised arousal.  She cannot move, cannot even
struggle. Hanging, needing, helpless.  Its dark, she cannot see...  but her
breasts...  such an intensity of feeling, of fullness, of throbbing need,
her nipples like rocks, somehow the water must be drumming on them
directly, its so strong...  so strong...  and the waterfall sounds like
birds calling...  what happened to the....  disorientation, she isn't sure
which way up she is tied; feels more like on her back, but....  ohhhhh her
breasts!  They feel as if they will burst!  She tries to reach for them,
but cannot.  She opens her eyes, and sees the green translucent material
above her, bright with sunlight.  Its already hot in....  she remembers. 
In the tent.  The morning is loud with bird calls.  She is still tied on
her back in the canvas cot.

   And her _immediate_, excruciating problem, is the state of her breasts.
Absolutely beyond ignoring, they feel unbelievably swollen and full, so
tender that every little move her body makes, sends jangling bursts of
intense discomfort as her breasts jiggle in response.

   She lifts her head to look down at them, and is shocked by the sight. 
They don't just feel hugely swollen, they _are_.  Not so much grown, as
filled to bursting - she can feel the tightness in her skin, and their
shape has shifted from curvaceous-conical, to semi-spherical.  It doesn't
take any thought at all, to realise that her breasts have begun producing
milk, and lots of it.  All of which is still waiting to let out - and must
escape soon, if her flesh is not to burst under the pressure.  The pressure
that seems to be concentrating in her nipples, to judge by their painfully
erect state.  She lifts her head again to look, and this time notices that
there are actually thin lines of milky wetness, tracing down her breasts
from the tips of her swollen nipples.  She is leaking - but not enough to
make a difference to her discomfort.

   It takes her several moments of struggling with the powerful sensations
from her breasts, before she can pay any attention at all to the rest of
her body.  She immediately wishes she hadn't.

   Remembering her lengthy rape by the four men last night - well it was
rape, even if she did...  beg for it, because...  even if it was very... 
she shakes her head.  After _that_, she'd expect to be pretty sore. 
Reaching through the flood of sensations from her breasts, she concentrates
on her sex - and finds some soreness, but....  oh no, how can that be?  Her
pussy is definitely not happy - but its...  _needing_ again!  After all
that pounding last night, and her breasts....  impossible!  And yet it is.
Now she has noticed it, she can't stop noticing, even with her other
discomfort.  Her clitoris is waking up too, she can actually feel it
stretching, and growing stiff again.  She realises she is still looking at
her erect nipples, and the milk dribbling down the swollen curves of her
breasts.  She remembers how it felt last night as they played with her
venom sensitised nipples.  She lets her head fall back again - 'no, don't
think about that, its turning me on again.  Dammit!  Don't!  Don't think
about it...  even if my breasts...  I really need to be milked...  oh fuck,
FUCK what has that vine done to me?!  God!....  I need to be milked, which
will make me cum, and thinking about that makes me _need_ to cum...  dammit
DAMMIT!

   "Aaaaargghhhh!" She struggles against her bindings wildly, venting her
frustration in a cry through clenched teeth.  Falls back, limp and panting.
Moving makes her breasts hurt more.

   "Well well well.  So the legends are all true!" Harding's voice comes
from above her head, out of her sight.  She twists her head sideways and
back, and finds him sitting cross legged on the floor nearby.  He leans
towards and over her, letting her look straight up into his face.  "How
remarkable.  This vine is quite the medical miracle, don't you think? 
Within twenty four hours of injection, the venom has induced very heavy
lactation.  You never had kids, did you?  Fascinating.  I'm going to be
hugely wealthy, while you, my dear lady, are simply going to be huge."

   He reaches across her, and runs a palm firmly over the swollen side of
her right breast.  He presses, feeling the tight fullness of her teat.  It
hurts, and she flinches, trying to pull away.  "Absolutely splendid, so
full already!  Oh, I'm _sorry_, was that a bit discomforting?" He asks
sarcastically.  Wrapping both palms around the lower swell of her breast,
he squeezes firmly.

   "Ohh!  Vance DON'T please...  it oooohhhh hurts!"

   He chuckles, as her lets go.  "Heh heh, yes, you're right, I should
leave them alone.  Not gentlemanly, playing with a ladies' baubles like
that, is it?  Why, I should be ashamed of myself!  Taking advantage of you,
considering the misfortune you've already suffered, what with that vine's
venom and all.  Oh, did I mention that?  You know what it said in the
scripts I found a few years ago?" Running a fingertip softly along the
curve of her breast, up to her nipple, which he presses and rolls briefly.
"By golly, you sure have a lot of milk in there, don't you.  Its actually
leaking all the time, look at that!" He holds his damp fingertip up where
she can see it, then moves it back to her nipple, and grazes the tip,
softly, back and forth.

   Laura grits her teeth.  "Vance, you....  arrrghhh please, umm...  Ah
what did they say?  Please stop doing that."

   He grins at her, and stops, to her surprise.  "Weeeell, you know how it
is with these very old languages - there's always a suspicion the
translation is duff, but it seeeeemed to be describing the effects of the
'seeker's bite'.  The vine venom, I'm guessing.  It was all in feminine
gender, so that would be you...  A lot of waffle about 'extra flow of milk'
- that bit's clear enough.  And some stuff I wasn't sure about, that might
have been referring to greatly heightened desire.  Considering the contrast
between your behaviour last time we met and last night, I'm now thinking my
translation was accurate.  Following that, there was a rather vague bit. 
Guess what?" He suddenly flicks her nipple hard with a fingertip.

   "Owww!  That...  uh..  what?  How would I know?"

   "Apparently, the venom is...  um, somewhat 'moreish'.  At least, I think
that's what they meant.  The text talked about how the 'seeker's servants'
would never stray far, but always returned to feed the vine.  Something
about desire bringing them back, it was quite confusing.  By the way, why
is your clitoris sticking up like that, eh?  Any idea?  Surely a proper
young woman such as yourself doesn't typically get morning hard-ons?  Did
you have such a good time last night, that you want more already?"

   He sits, looking at her silently, calculatingly.  She has a feeling he's
not telling her everything he knows.  But then, that's a given with
Harding. She doesn't know what to say, so many thoughts are whirling in her
mind.  Neither does he seem to expect any answer.

   After a few minutes, he sniffs the air.  "Hmmm.  I smell horny woman. 
And breakfast being cooked.  So, I'll leave you alone now.  Back in a while
with something for you to heh heh...  eat.  Like last night.  Anything
_else_ you might need can wait till then.  Bye now!"

   He gets up, and a moment later he is gone.  She can hear him greeting
his men, and then their voices drift away.  She is alone in the tent, just
her...  and her aching breasts, and throbbing clit, and full bladder.  And,
now she thinks of food, her rumbling stomach.  Such a contrast!  Her
breasts feeling full to bursting, while her stomach complains it is empty.
She is very thirsty too, as well as urgently needing to pee.  Uncomfortable
and stiff after a night spent tied up, yet still her sex is throbbing for
attention.  After a while, lying there listening to the men clattering
around at the cooking fire outside, she almost wishes she was still strung
up under the waterfall.  At least there she could drink, and pee if she had
too.

   And...  come.  It is becoming more of a struggle to hold her water now,
only she finds to her dismay that when she clenches her muscles, it somehow
increases the aching need in her sex.  Heightening her unwanted desire,
while doing nothing to relieve it.  Its incredibly frustrating, the way her
own body seems to be determined to torment her.  Unless she chooses to wet
herself, she has to clamp down every time her bladder contracts on its own.
But with the sensations that clenching produces in her sex, her frustrated
arousal soon becomes so intense that her hips begin their own reflexive
thrusting, futilely attempting to somehow relieve the aching desire in her
cunt.

   She is quite annoyed with herself, as well as dismayed.  What is wrong
with her?  She has never felt anything like this before, can it be more of
the vine chemicals affecting her?  It must be...  that is the only possible
explanation for the state of her breasts.  Those too are now becoming
another part of the torment, since with her arousal, she can't help
breathing rapidly - which is joggling her swollen breasts painfully.  Yet
even that is somehow feeding back to worsen the situation - for some
reason, the pain of her breasts, and even the thought of how full they are,
is adding to her excitement.  The thought that...  she needs so badly to be
milked.  And she is going to have to ask...  them...  to do it, since she
rather doubts they will let her do it herself.  She remembers the orgasms
their play with her nipples brought her last night.  Her vagina aches,
frustrated, anticipating, as she squirms and tenses on the cot.  After a
while, she begins softly moaning.

   ---------------

   This time, her own sounds do not completely mask the sounds of the men
returning, nor the smell of the cooked food they bring.  Still though, when
she opens her eyes, the tent flap is already pulled aside, and all of them
are looking in at her, admiring her antics.  She wills herself to hold
still, but it is quite beyond her.  She finds she can't even stop the small
panting gasps she is making.  The men leer, as they enter the tent and sit
around her, holding their plates of steaming food.

   Harding remains standing.  "Dear me, Laura, have you started without us?
Ha ha!  Never mind.  Now, first things.  Today we have much to do in the
ruins.  We must leave tomorrow, and so sadly my dear we cannot waste much
time today entertaining you.  I'm afraid you'll have to stay put as and
where you are for the day.  Keep you out of mischief, eh?"

   He grins cheerfully at her, letting the implications work in.  She does
not like the sound of this.  Just as she is about to get over her
embarrassment and ask to be assisted to pee, he speaks again.

   "Now, I recall last night you repeatedly made some claims regarding my
parents, and my capacity for feeling.  If I _was_ a _total_ bastard, today
I could leave you to deal with your several little problems on your own. 
Nothing a dunking in the river in the evening wouldn't wash off you and the
bed, I'm sure.  However, to show you how wrong you were, we will now make
your day much more comfortable.  Behold!"

   From his pocket, he pulls some things that seem most incongruous in this
rough jungle setting.  He waves them in front of her - a handful of sealed,
sterile clear plastic surgical packs.  She sees some tubing, a syringe, and
a tube of something.  He sets them down on her stomach.

   "All the modern conveniences of home!  Now, our breakfast is going cold,
so I'll get this done quickly, then we eat.  Hold still.  "

   With a concise, detached air, he opens a tube, and applies the nozzle
between her labia, squeezing out something that feels cool and slippery to
her.  Then he slits open the end of the bag containing the tubing, and
carefully works out one rounded end of the tube, using the plastic bag to
hold it.  He holds it up in front of her face for a moment, and she
realises what it is.  She's heard of these, but never seen one before.  She
hopes it won't hurt.  He quickly moves the bag down to her sex, and presses
the end of the tube into her.  Expertly, he slips it into her urethra, and
pushes.  It slides in easily, and she feels the lump at the end slip
through her tightly clenched sphincter.  Its a very odd feeling, something
pushing in there, yet nothing touching either her aching hard clit, or her
aching empty vagina.  She doesn't know how to react, apart from a small
gasp.

   "Good, now don't let go.  Nearly done."

   Swiftly, he opens a syringe, fills it with some fluid, uncoils the rest
of the plastic tube from its bag, inserts the syringe needle into a small
T-piece off the tubing near her crotch, and presses the plunger down
carefully, judging the volume.  Then he extracts the syringe, obviously
done.  She can't feel anything happening at all.  Not till he tugs firmly
on the tubing where it extends from her sex, and after a small length
slides out, something inside her solidly blocks any further movement. 
Suddenly, her need to relieve herself intensifies mightily, and she
struggles to hold it against the cramping contractions.

   "Ha ha!  Pretty intense feeling, huh?  Afraid of disgracing yourself in
front of your friends?  Don't be.  You can't now, even if you tried.  Go
on, try it!  Here, I'll help you make up your mind you want to."

   At this point, he starts applying a firm pull to the tube that now seems
anchored inside her.  He is pulling vertically upwards above her crotch,
and the feeling inside her is intense.  It isn't pain, exactly, and she
isn't even sure its unpleasant.  But her hips automatically follow, to
relieve the intensity of the feeling.  He stops pulling, and her hips fall
back.  He pulls again, and she follows, this time groaning.  Such a strong
feeling, tugging inside her; in her already aroused state, its impossible
not to interpret the feeling as sexual.

   "Ohhhhhuuuhhhhfffffff" He pulls higher this time, and she strains her
hips upwards till her body is an arch.  Her bladder is so strained!

   "Hey, this is fun!  Just like fishing.  I've hooked a mermaid!"

   He holds her there for a few moments, her muscles straining.  She starts
to let herself sink backwards, partly from the strain, and partly because
she is deciding she wants more of that pulling feeling.  He lets her
descend only part way, then changes his steady pull to a rapid, light
jerking on the tube.

   "UuuuooogghhhHH!  UhhhhH!  Uhhhh!  OOOOOhhhhhh!  Ooooohhh!" She cries
out at the sensations, as her hips buck in response.  It feels every bit as
intense as being fucked, yet...  different.  If only her bladder wasn't
cramping painfully, it might be...  it might be very nice.

   "Ha, like that, eh?  Horny bitch aren't you?  Well, enough of this, my
breakfast is going cold.  Here, lie back again now, couple more little
details." He lets go of the tube, and presses a hand down on her belly just
above her mound.  On her over-full bladder - ouch!  She drops back to the
cot.  He applies the syringe needle to another of the side pieces dangling
off the tube near her crotch, and again injects fluid carefully.  This time
she does feel something; very much so.  Right at the opening of her sex,
where the tube enters her, she feels a stretching, and at the same time the
tube moves inside her.  The feeling of tension against her insides returns
somewhat.  When he is done with the syringe, she can feel something rounded
pressing between her labia, just in front of the opening of her vagina. 
The inside 'pull' is quite strong, and when she tenses again, she feels the
bulge at her opening pull inwards strongly.  He tugs at the tube again,
then pushes it towards her.  It doesn't move, other than to vary the
feelings of tension and pressure.

   "OK, I guess by now you figured out this is a renal catheter.  The end
of it is inside your bladder, and is now pumped up to about the size of a
golf ball.  Its not coming out until I release the fluid with the syringe
again.  Where it goes into you, there's now another bulb expanded.  The
tension you feel is due to the tube between the bulbs being a little
shorter than the natural length of your urethra.  So each bulb is being
pressed against an end of your delicate girlish plumbing.  The result is a
kind of bathplug - there is no way pee is coming out of you now, other than
by this tube.  Which has a valve on it here, see?" He holds it up; sure
enough, a small valve, with a green plastic knob.

   "You can relax, or push, or cramp down all you like, nothing is going to
happen till I turn this valve.  Got that?"

   He stares into her eyes, and waits.

   "I said, have you got that?  A nice polite 'yes sir' will do. 
Otherwise, we'll explore my various options regarding how long I'll leave
you to stew, and when you'll actually suffer an internal pressure injury.
Or perhaps where I might place the other end of the tube before I do turn
this cute little valve here.  Up your nose, perhaps?" For the first time,
she sees an anger behind his carefully maintained air of near-indifference.

   "Ye...  yes, sir."

   "Good.  I'm glad we're clear on that." He turns away from her, unrolling
the long tubing towards the tent door.  "As for where the pee will go if
and when I do allow it, this ain't no hospital.  Soooo...  " He places the
tube end over a rock beside the tent door, and weighs it down with another
rock.  "That will have to do.  Bush toilet.  Simple but effective!  Now. 
One last little detail before you can pee, and then you and I eat.  A
question for you.  And bear in mind that right after breakfast everyone but
you is heading off to the ruins again, and we'll be away all day.  You'll
be lying here, exactly as you are now.  So the question is, what other
things do you want us to do for you before we go?  I'll leave the catheter
open, and a water bottle with a tube you can drink from.  Anything else, I
want you to ask for.  Ask now, or do without."

   He waits a moment, then seems to decide to add more.

   "Oh, and its not that I don't know of several things you need.  Its just
that I'm a bastard, and choose to humiliate you by making you ask for them.
Or suffer all day, if you can't bring yourself to ask."

   He sits back, cross-legged on the tent floor next to her, picks up his
plate and begins eating.  With his mouth full, he adds "Mmmmm don't take
too long to think about it, the rest of us have a busy day ahead.  You
_know_ perfectly well what _you_ need, eh?  Mmmm oh, and don't forget the
'please sir'."



   Dazed, she struggles to consider his words.  What does she really need?
To pee, but its not that.  She can think of...  oh.  ...  oh.  Her breasts.

   They seem to have become even more painfully swollen since she awoke. 
At that rate, by the end of the day they'd surely have burst, or something.
Like her bladder is near to bursting.  Its disconcerting how every time she
clenches up now, there is that pulling feeling right at the entrance to her
sex.  It faintly tickles her clit, and so her reflexes seem to keep doing
it even when she tries to stop.

   She realises she absolutely will have to ask to have her breasts milked.
But...  she is so horny!  Maybe she'll come as they milk her?  Still, maybe
not!  What then?  It must be something the vine venom has done to her
that's making her so aroused all the time, but the frustration is
unbearable!  If only she could come!  God!  Uhhhh!  She realises her
thoughts have sneaked around her self control again, and she has begun
humping her hips again.  Damn!  That catheter keeps teasing her clit so
subtly, every time she moves.  When he pulled on it...  yes, that was a
good feeling.  What if he'd kept doing it?  Ahhh!  Concentrate!  Damn, even
if they do her breasts now, and she comes, they'll be full again by the
afternoon, and she'll probably get horny again.  All afternoon, tied to the
cot alone.  Thinking about when they come back, and spend the evening
raping her.  Again.  Oh god, what is wrong with her!  Just thinking about
it makes her whole body shiver and tingle!.  Rape, rape...  With five of
them they can keep her filled non-stop.  Last night they did anyway. 
Nonstop for hours.  And she never stopped coming...  Fucking vine, what has
it done to her?  Fuck, fuck!  Her cunt is burning so much she wishes they'd
rape her right now!  Oh god, oh god she needs to cum...  Uhhh..  uhhh....
She loses track of her thoughts, as her body twists in and thrusts in her
bonds.

   "Hey!  Hey Laura!  Laura!  I said _ask_ me, not show me!  Come on,
watching you play air fuck is interesting, but there's work to be done. 
Have your say, or we'll leave you now, full bladder and all."

   He has finished eating, and now pays her full attention again.  Leaning
across her body, he pears closely at her sex.  Pulls her labia wide apart,
and inspects the catheter placement.  He grabs the outer bulb, and spends a
moment twisting and jiggling it, which causes her to groan and thrust her
hips up towards his hands.

   "Sure, you like that.  So?  Tell me about it if you want more.  Shit,
your clit is swollen up hard as a rock, did you know?"

   As he strokes it briefly, she tenses up rigidly, whimpering with
pleasure.

   "Ha.  Apparently you did know.  Well, the vine is an aphrodisiac to beat
all aphrodisiacs, that's clear.  How about here?  Sensitive here?"

   He slides his fingers downwards, past the catheter, and slips a single
finger deeply into her vagina, teasing it around in her.  Again she goes
rigid, gasping, with her body arched up to his finger.  He takes it out.

   "Yep, sure are.  Steaming hot pussy.  What does pussy want, hmmm? 
Meanwhile back at the ranch, whats over here in the coral out back?"

   With his finger lubricated with the jelly he'd applied before, as well
as her own fluids, he places the fingertip against her ring and presses
inwards.  She's never, ever had anything there before, and this time tenses
up from shock.  Attempting to clamp him out, but still his slippery finger
slides straight in.

   She gasps "Oh!  No, please!  I don't...  please!"

   "Yes you do, now.  Hmmm.  Seems like that's one thing you don't need to
do this morning.  Good, I really didn't want to go through that rigmarole.
More entertainment for tonight too.  So, you don't like this, eh?" He
twists his finger around in her rear, pumping it in and out rapidly.  She
shudders, and then realises in shock that her pelvis is actually thrusting
back at his finger!  Ahhh!  That feeling in her pussy, the need for
penetration, its so strong that its confused her mind.  Surely she can't
_want_ penetration _there_ too?  But...  it feels...  it feels...

   "Surprised you huh?  Well, we'll explore that more too, later." He
stops, withdrawing his finger.  Sits back, pours some water on a cloth and
wipes his hands.  "OK, coming up to moment of truth time here.  Last
requests?"

   He places the flat of his hand back on her belly, cupping the swell of
her stretched bladder.  He taps his fingers, as if to a tune.  Tap, tappity
tap, tap-tap...  Each tap makes her need to pee more urgent.  "We're
waaaaiting..."

   The tent is silent for long moments, with only the drum-like tapping
sound.  Outside, the jungle carries on its early morning mayhem.

   For Laura, it has all been seeming like some kind of unbelievable dream,
that flung her from one confusing sensory overload to the next.  Ever since
she lowered herself onto the lingham in the temple, she has hardly been
able to think clearly for a moment.  But somehow, Harding's finger in her
rear shocked into a sense of reality.  This is really happening to her. 
She's a captive, of five unpredictable males, deep in the jungle.  No one
knows where she is.  They are not going to let her go, and don't seem to
even care much if she lives or dies.  Let alone care whether she objects to
their taking her any way they will.  She's naked, bound, and strange
vegetable poisons are playing havoc with her libido.  If she has to lie
here all day, with her breasts gradually bursting with pressure from her
weirdly exaggerated milk production, she could die.  Or go mad.  She had
better try to live with it.

   "Uh...  I need...  my breasts.  Could you please milk my breasts, they
really hurt.  The vine, I guess.  Uh, sir."

   She pauses, considering.  Then decides, 'in for a penny, in for a
pounding.' "Um, and...  and...  could I have some breakfast too please,
and...  you know...  something to um...  eat...  oh...  oh hell.  Could you
please fuck me too, sir?  I really need to um...  to cum.  Sir."

   The four native porters have been very quiet up till this point. 
Perhaps Harding had instructed them to keep quiet.  But at her request,
they all break out in raucous laughter, rolling back on their heels and
making very obviously sexual gestures.  They clearly think its very very
funny.

   Harding's attitude barely changes.  If anything, he seems faintly
surprised, behind his usual sneeringly casual grin.

   "Ok...  Ok guys.  Guys!  Thank you.  See Laura, I knew you could get a
grip on the situation.  Well done, I suppose I should say.  I agree, it
seems the venom has had a quite extreme effect.  It will be most
interesting to see how long it persists.  In the meantime, yes, you'll have
to have regular milkings.  As for the fucking...  why Laura, shame on you!
No one ever died from hornyness, so I don't see what you are complaining
about.  Surely you can't be looking for a repeat of last night's orgy, so
soon?  Can't wait till tonight?  Well, sorry.  For one thing, we don't have
time, Secondly, I don't give a damn if you do lie there all day frustrated
to hell.  Thirdly, it will be interesting to see how your condition
progresses with...  and without stimulation.  Today it will be without.  OK
boys, breasts only.  Remember what I said!"

   With that, he leans forward and, wrapping his palms around her aching
breast, takes the swollen nipple into his mouth.  Squeezing her breast, he
sucks strongly at her teat, while squeezing it with his lips and teeth. 
There is an immediate, strong jet on milk, surprising in its strength.  He
lets go with his mouth, and grips the nipple with his fingers.  Milking it
like a cow's teat, he fires several fine but strong streams of milk into
the air.

   "Look at that boys!  Thar she blows!  Holy shit..." He keeps kneading
her nipple, and the jets become stronger and thicker.  After a minute or so
of this, her nipple is almost jetting all by itself.  He barely has to
stroke it to produce the streams.

   Another fellow has begun the same work on her other breast, and soon it
too is jetting milky streams into the air.

   Laura is writhing, head thrown back, with an expression of relief and
ecstasy.  Ohhh...  her breasts...  soooo good.  She can feel the milk
flowing in them, converging on her nipples.  The painful pressure is
relieving, rapidly.  Her nipples are sooooo sensitive too, and again seem
to be directly connected to her clitoris.  She can tell it won't take much
of this to make her come.  So much for Harding's 'don't have time, don't
give a damn.' Screw him!  she thinks.  "Ahhhh fuuuckkk.... 
Uuuuummmmmmm....." Realising she is moaning in pleasure, she tries to force
herself to be quiet.  Or to at least pant open-mouthed without adding voice
to her rapid breaths.  "Uuughhh...  Uunnnhhh...." Its not easy to keep
quiet, with such feelings building inside her.

   Laura is so focussed on trying to keep herself silent, and not give away
her approaching orgasm, that she completely fails to notice that her hips
are again bucking up, and dropping, each time she tenses her behind, thighs
and internal muscles.  Of course, no one else in the tent fails to notice
her humping the air.  With her tensing thighs spread as wide as she can in
the bonds, and her pussy swollen, red and glistening wet with her juices,
it would be hard to miss, as she thrust it upwards emptily.  With nothing
under her but the flat cot to which she is bound at wrists and ankles, she
has plenty of room to flex her body, and does.

   Despite the distraction of watching the astonishingly prolific jetting
of milk from her nipples as they are squeezed and worked by rough fingers,
they all can see that Laura is approaching orgasm.  Vance's men are winking
at each other, and loosening their pants over erections, when Harding
frowns at them, shaking his head.  In Spanish, softly: "No guys, not now.
Save it for tonight.  We've work to do today, remember?  Don't worry, she
will be hot like a fire by evening!  Now, go and prepare the equipment.  I
will deal with this one.  Heh.  No such fun for her this morning.  The
better for tonight!"

   Vance takes over her other nipple as well, and continues milking her a
few more moments.  Only now he does it carefully, with pauses, as he
watches her body and pelvis undulating in her arousal.  Her eyes are closed
again, and her breath comes in gasps.  She seems very close.

   The men are not happy, but rise and leave, making sure to enjoy the
sight of her till the very last moment when the tent flap falls shut behind
them.  Harding is still squeezing her nipples and breasts rhythmically,
although the milk flow has slowed.  Her breasts don't look quite as swollen
as before they began, and her chest, face and stomach are running with her
own sprayed milk.

   Once they have left, Vance suddenly quits her nipples, and searches in a
bag on the tent floor.  Laura whimpers in frustration, but he ignores her.
"Ah, this will do" he considers to himself, coming up with what looks like
a thin wooden drumstick, but with a small ball on both ends.  The dowel
between is thin, a foot long, and painted with alternating black and white
bands, one inch each.

   Laura has opened her eyes again now that the pleasures from her nipples
have stopped.  Still in a daze of arousal, she wonders what he's doing
fooling with a photographic scale marker, when he should be milking her
breasts.  She is so close!

   She gets her answer, when without any ceremony, he bends over her sex,
and abruptly thrusts one end of the marker past the catheter tube, into her
vagina, pushing it into her slickness until over half of it is out of
sight. She gasps, but more in offended surprise than from the sensation -
which isn't all that much.  The ball is only about half an inch in
diameter, and the stick is so thin she can barely feel it.  He lets go of
it as she bucks her hips in an automatic attempt to dislodge it.  It moves
with her, and in a moment she can barely feel that its still in there. 
"What!  What did you do that for!  Take it.."

   "Shush!" He taps her on the lips with his fingertip.  "It stays.  Now, a
little more milking, and we're done, apart from food and pee."

   So saying, he resumes his work at her nipples, and Laura is immediately
reminded of how very, very hot she feels, and how close her come is
hovering...  Moaning, she falls back again, one more humping frustratedly.
The stick inside her pussy makes no significant difference to the empty
feeling inside her, around which her pussy muscles are clenching and
relaxing as she urges herself closer and closer.

   Now though, there _is_ a difference.  Just not for her.  Vance watches
the extended end of the ruler carefully as her milks her, for the tale it
reveals of her internal muscle actions.  Now he can see every clench, every
contraction of her internal pelvic muscles, as the stick with its black and
white striping for visibility, does its own dance even when her pelvis is
locked motionless.  He listens to her gasping, and the twitching of the
stick, carefully judging...  waiting...

   And then he suddenly stops.  "Well, that's enough milking for this
morning.  Besides, looks to me like you were about to come, and I did say I
didn't want you to.  OK, food.  Hey Laura!  Laura, pay attention!"

   She really was about to come - he'd judged the instant to a perfection.
Laura finds herself left hanging, _right_ on the shuddering edge of the
precipice.  As his meaning sinks into her barely functioning mind, she is
dismayed, She feels like screaming, like thrashing violently.  No no no! 
Oh God....  The feeling of incredible tension in her pelvis is worse than
her breasts felt as she woke up!

   He shakes his head ruefully.  "Well, I must be fair; you can't pay
attention just now, right?  So, anyway..." He rummages again in the bag,
this time producing a pair of metal handcuffs.  Attaching it to her right
wrist, he unties that hand, then clips the other side of the handcuff to
the short metal stand of the cot.  He experiments, moving her hand around,
testing the limits of her reach.  She can reach her head, mouth, and the
ground next to the low cot near her head.  Nothing further.  Not her other
wrist, or her breasts.

   "Good.  Well, I haven't got all day, so you can feed yourself." He
shifts a plate with her breakfast, and a water bottle to the area she can
reach.  "Bye now!  See you this evening.  Be good!" Rising to leave, he
pauses.  "Oh, silly me, almost forgot." He gives the valve on her catheter
a quick twist, and she feels her over-full bladder emptying.  Then in a
moment, he is gone.  She hears him chatting with the others, the sound of
packs being lifted onto shoulders, and then footsteps, fading away.  A last
burst of laughter in the distance, and the camp is silent.

   'Bastard!  That BASTARD!' she screams to herself in her head.  'He knew.
He deliberately set her up, right on the edge, then left her hanging. 
Bastard!' She lifts her head, and looks down her naked figure at her
out-of-reach aching sex.  The stripey ruler is still there, sticking out of
her cunt.  She tries pushing down to expel it - nothing doing.  Its end
just jiggles around a bit as she tries.  The faint feeling of the dowel
shifting inside is doing nothing to help her desperate need.  A need she
can actually _see_ - there is her aching hard clitoris, sticking up from
between her swollen labia.  Terrific.  She lets herself fall back onto the
cot.  Fucking terrific.  She should have tossed _him_ into that gorge.  Its
going to be a long, long day.


   [to be continued]