Chapter 1

 

She lay on the ground numb and unable to move. One moment, she was staring up at the incredible green canopy six-stories over her head; the next, Andre's men were pinning her to the ground, stripping off her clothes, tying ropes on her wrists. It felt as if they were assaulting someone else and she was a witness, a helpless bystander. One of the men grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet; another slipped a noose over her head. Together, they half-dragged, half-carried her to the trees.

"STOP!" she said hesitantly. "Stop it. What are you doing...?"

Her voice sounded strange, far too calm for the outrage she felt. Why was that...? Why wasn't she flailing wildly, resisting with all her might? Shock...! She finally understood what that word meant: the sudden violence had made her numb and unable to resist. She watched with insane interest as they stretched her arms between the trees, pulling on the ropes at her wrists. She struggled weakly, but it was useless. The noose tightened and she was on her toes desperately trying to breathe, the pain in her stretched arms forgotten.

"Please..."

It was a pathetic plea for mercy. She had never imagined that she, Jennifer Lamont, would beg any man for anything. Men had always treated her like she was special; even total strangers went out of their way to do for her. She had never understood it, she just accepted it as the way things were.

She tried to scream, but the noose didn't allow enough air to pass for screaming. She glanced desperately at the men as they spoke and pointed. She understood the gist. They were admiring their rope work, discussing the tautness of her skin, the narrow size of her waist, the shape of her pointed tits and protruding nipples, the stretch of her long shapely legs. For the first time in her life, she wished she was ugly.

Her toes danced a frantic jig on the soft ground as she struggled to keep her body stretched and high. Was she going to die here? Were these monsters waiting for the rope to slowly strangle her? Suddenly, her focus narrowed; nothing mattered anymore but the strength of her pointed feet and the frantic grip of her long toes in the soil. Her nudity and bondage, even her pain, were irrelevant now. The thought that such important priorities could become insignificant in an instant flitted through her mind.

She glanced at the men again, pleading with her eyes, her full lips, her tits. She thrust out her silky mound as an obvious offering. They looked at her with untroubled stares as if expecting such desperate appeals; one of them said something and they both laughed. Their casual behavior added to the dreamlike quality of the scene in her mind.

How could this be happening ... to her? She was a valuable person, someone people wanted to please and to appease; this didn't make any sense.

Was she dreaming...? She looked up and watched the sunlight flicker through the trees. This could very well be a dream, she decided. The nudity, the bondage, the feeling of total helplessness were all feelings she knew well in her dreams. Didn't everyone? Wasn't the damsel-in-distress dream-theme popular for females? This could all be an illusion caused by extreme travel fatigue.

REALLY...? If it was, she should enjoy it! The errant thought didn't diminish her pain and terror, but it did goose her resolve. She pulled hard with her arms and relaxed her feet. Immediately, the pain increased, and she began to convulse from lack of air. She quickly rose back up onto her toes. This was no dream.

FUCK ME... I should never have agreed to come here. I knew I was taking a chance; I knew Mason wasn't being entirely straight. This attack is not entirely a surprise. I am not stupid; I knew that Mason's proposition was risky; I accepted that when I took his money. I knew...

Why did she do it she wondered? Was it the money or something else? She trembled at the question. Kinky sex, submissive sex had always had a forbidden appeal to her. When Mason had hinted at the bondage, she had become excited and interested. Was she too weak to resist his extortion, or was this her way of experimenting without explicit agreement? She opened her eyes wide and stopped moving her feet. No sane person would agree to such abuse, was she secretly glad the decision was now out of her hands?

She spied movement across the small field. It was the pilot who had flown her to this Hell. He turned towards her and touched his fingers to his visor in farewell. Andre met him at the plane and gave him a Latin man-hug as if they were close friends. The warmth of the gesture seemed cruelly indifferent to her horrible bondage. The pilot climbed slowly back to his plane and started his engines.

It was a signal of some kind. The two thugs standing beside her turned around and walked to their pickup truck where they sat and waited. Waited ... for what? They continued to stare in her direction, but strangely they did not leer. It was almost as if her naked bondage was, well, something ordinary, not of any special interest.

The plane's engines roared, and they watched it speed down the tree-lined tunnel. By the time it rose into the opening at the tunnel's end, the engine noise had faded to a distant hum. She suddenly felt alone, abandoned, and began to twist in the ropes. The remote hope that this was a joke, an initiation ritual of some kind flew off with the plane.

The man who had introduced himself as Andre was walking towards her.

"Save your strength for the real pain," he advised quietly.

She stared back defiantly, suddenly outraged that he cared enough to give advice.

His light shirt was open, and she could see the lines of his muscular chest. He bent down until his face was inches from hers, until his lips were level with her eyes. His shirt brushed up against her bare nipples and she shuddered.

Suddenly, she was back inside her dream. He had fucked her there, fucked her until she had screamed out with nocturnal ecstasy, with a mind-bending, gut-wrenching orgasm. Was this beast going to fuck her now, was he going to open her legs and ram his hard cock inside her vaginal cave? She opened her eyes and stared up into his, licking her lips in anticipation. Dream or not, this was something special, something...

"Is this when you fuck me, stud?"

The slap snapped her head to the side and sent a blinding pain into her brain. All thoughts of an erotic dream were gone, all thoughts of a fuck fantasy flew out of her mind. This was no casual abuse for purposes of a one-time ejaculation; this was a serious man in a seriously warped place. She could feel the red marks of his hand burning on her cheek.

"FUCK...!" she said, surprised.

She lifted her head again and glared at him, her eyes flaming with rage.

"I need your undivided attention now, Jenny. This is not some gang banging, or some romantic fantasy. You are not dreaming. You are now under my control, my total control. We have much to discuss, much to do."

She heard the words and used them to soothe her rage. For the moment, she wanted answers more than anything. She would deal with this asshole, this fucking jungle-boy, and his master Mason later. She just needed to survive...

Andre positioned his hands under her arms then let them slide down her torso to her hips.

"You are lovely," he said earnestly, "...truly divine. I was just telling the captain that Mr. Mason has an incredible eye for female beauty. It is his talento de Deus as they say in this country, his talent from God, no?"

He was not an American, she thought, perhaps Canadian or Australian, maybe European. Whatever nationality he was, his perfect English was not going to give him away.

She could feel her rage slowly building again. He had confirmed that Mason was part of this ... this fucking outrage! She twisted her body trying to shake off his Andre's hands but only managed to tighten the rope at her throat. He smiled then reached up to cup her breast in his hand, to evaluate its firmness.

"Stop, please...!" she hissed helplessly still trying to move away.

He smiled again and pinched her nipple, slowly increasing the pressure until she screamed. The men by the truck looked up as the forest absorbed the sound of her agony. Her face turned an anguished red, but he didn't release her. After a moment, she began to pant in pain, sucking air into her mouth between clenched teeth. He ignored her reactions almost as if they were unimportant. Finally, she nodded her head. It was almost imperceptible, but they both knew what it meant: surrender. He smiled again and released her nipple.

"Let's get something straight, Jennifer, I control you primarily through your pain. It's all I have at this point, so I must use it to good advantage. The faster you recognize this, the less pain you will need to endure."

He stepped back and let his eyes travel the full length of her body lingering over each feature.

"You are different," he whispered, "more innocent, more aware of your ... feelings, more alive." His hand moved to her chest to feel up her tit. "I want to fuck you very badly, Jenny, any man would, but I also want to comfort you, to ease your suffering. This is a powerful dilemma, this desire to simultaneous fuck and comfort; it is a reaction that very few women can elicit in a man."

His hand moved to her mound then his fingers slipped inside her soaking cunt.

"Yes, Mr. Mason certainly has an excellent eye for female flesh. Very few men would see or appreciate your effect on men ... or your hot soul. I can feel your body yearning to break free of... Well, in any case, he is a genius."

"He's a liar and a pig," she hissed, surprised that she was panting.

She could see that the appreciation in his eyes was genuine.

"I'm going to call you Jenny," he declared quietly. That is how you make me feel."

"My name is Jennifer," she whispered, lifting her body high to gain the necessary air. "Take your fucking hands off me and untie these ropes this instant. I want to call my lawyer. I will be pressing charges against Mason, against you, against your thugs ... all of you. I will enjoy putting you in a Brazilian jail to rot."

Andre smiled, stepped back, and shook his head then signaled to one of his men. The man walked behind her and waited. Frightened, she tried to turn her head, but the noose held her too tightly.

"Jenny, pretty Jenny...," Andre whispered, clearly happy with his choice of name. "Relax, we have very few lawyers here, in this part of Amazonia; in this place, the strength of the man, his power, is more important here than the law. This is the reason we hold the Quest games here: there is little interference from governments or politicians. You are key to these games; you are the unique treasure that fuels the games; you are our reason for being here. I formally welcome you to Quest - Amazonia."

She twisted her torso and danced another short tattoo on her bare feet. Her lithe body was wet with sweat now, glistening with the threads of light braking through the trees.

"The main arena, the track, and the guest residence are that way," he said pointing in the direction the plane had taken off. "The Mason Ranch is a few miles from here in the opposite direction. Once we get you trained and conditioned, you will compete in the arena, but that is a long way off. We will have plenty of time to talk about this when you have ... acclimated."

He stepped back and let his eyes travel again over her taut body. She could feel her stomach muscles, her mound, and her tits hardening under his stare. She lifted herself higher on her toes, unconsciously responding.

"I like to know the character of the girls I train, right from the beginning, Jenny," he said quietly. "The ropes pulling your arms to the sides will keep you from moving, but the rope at your throat will kill you if you collapse. It's a simple test: if you stay up high on your toes during the pain, the noose will remain tight, but it won't kill you. If you succumb to the pain, if you panic, if you kick out and flail with your legs like a bleating lamb, you will strangle yourself."

She tried to process his words, but they meant nothing to her. He nodded to the man behind and at once, she heard the fearsome sound of leather cutting through the air. Her body jerked violently with the impact. No one had ever hit her like this before; no one had ever purposely caused her pain.

Her first thought was to run and instinctively her long legs began to churn, running in place, uselessly, frantically trying to flee. She screamed with the hideous agony of the whip burn, but the tightening noose cut off the sound. Her eyes grew large as she struggled for air, locking onto Andre's face. Pleading for her life...

He stood silently, watching her writhe. She could see the truth in his words: he would let her die. She scrambled desperately back onto her toes easing the pressure closing around her throat. A second stroke to the backs of her luscious thighs sent another wave of pain up from her legs. She fell off her toes again but recovered quickly. On the third stroke, she maintained her balance, fighting her way through the burn on her legs and ass. She did the same for the next seven strokes. Finally, Andre held up his hand; her face was a mask of suffering and surrender, but it also contained a hint of suppressed rage that he did not miss.

He stepped closer until his face was only inches from hers.

"This is good. The will-to-live is strong in you, Jenny, as strong as I have seen before. For all his expertise with beauty and his sophistication in selecting 'personable girls,' Mr. Mason sometimes sends me creatures who are just empty shells, girls with no heart. I cannot work with such women; it is a waste of my time. I need to weed them out at the very beginning.

She stared at him. Pain was still streaking up from her legs and ass.

"No, we don't kill them. They spend their year with us as 'decoration,' as caged pets entertaining my men. It all works out in the end; my men are not so fussy about whom they fuck."

He waved his hand and the man behind untied the noose at her neck. She slumped, crucified by the ropes at her wrists.

"Stand up straight, Jenny. Raise your head and arch your beautiful back."

Incredibly, she did as he said.

"I will teach you what you need to know to compete in this contest, but you must cooperate. As I said, those who do not have the heart to compete become amusements for my men. I have more interesting things in mind for you."