ESCAPE . . .

 

 

 

Crouched down behind a fallen tree, I try to slow my heavy breathing . . . hoping they don't hear me . . . even the slightest move causes the leaves and twigs to rustle . . . I hold my breath as they come closer.

 

Looking down, I see my top has gone from just partially torn open by them to the last of the buttons missing from getting snagged on random branches one too many times. Would have been able to block a few of those branches had my wrists and elbows not been tied behind me . . . Fuck! That rope is tight!

 

At least I made the right choice with my sports bra . . . other then a few small holes, it's holding up and still doing its job.

 

Slowly I open and close my hands to make sure I can still feel them and keep the blood flowing . . . yep, can still feel them . . . but I'm not getting out of these ropes without help.

 

The pain in my bare knees from the branches, stones and hard dirt of the jungle floor has begun to throb. Why did I wear these tiny tight Lara Croft shorts? I know these make my ass look fantastic and these would of been perfect had I been cosplaying Lara . . . but not in the real world, in a real F'n Jungle!

 

The fronts of my thighs and calves are so scratched up and bruised from running through the jungle . . . don't know how Lara ever did it.

 

I can hear them talking into their radios, {She's the only one left . . . we got the other two . . . we know she went this way}. He's got to be really near by . . . just then several larger beads of salty sweat drip off my cheek and directly into an open wound along the top of my breast increasing the pain and burn of that cut!

 

Biting down hard on my gag and quietly resting my forehead against the log until the pain lessens and the nearest guy has walked farther away.

 

Finally I let a long slow breath out and relax for a second . . . as two guys I didn't even hear grab my ankles and pull me out of my hiding spot ass up and breasts and face sliding across the leaves and branches! Fuck No!!!

 

I roll over onto my bound arms and get one guy in his stomach with one foot and the other less lucky one, a direct hit to his crotch as he goes down hard! Maybe twenty feet away I hear, "SHE'S OVER HERE!" as three more guys come running out of the jungle and tackle me hard!

 

The first guy who jumped on me went right from my breasts thinking that's how you hold a Woman down. The struggle was enough to cause my gag to slide out of my mouth and I bit his wrist causing him to slap me hard.

 

With all the activity going on up top with Mr. Boob Grab, I didn't notice the others have tied my ankles together preventing any chance of me running again.

 

They step back and release me long enough that I flop around as helpless as a fish tossed into the bottom of the boat. With no chance to save itself, the fish continues to flop around any way.

 

The five tough guys stand back a few moments to lick their wounds and regroup . . . until a six guy walks up and shows them more ropes and a head sized burlap sack.

 

Face down against the hard metal in the back of the Jeep, I'm grunting hard with every bump . . . I swear they're hitting the bumps on purpose.

 

The burlap sack pulled over my head and tied in place with a rope around my neck, prevents me from seeing where we're going and how many Guards are keeping an eye on me. Seriously? My wrists, elbows, knees and ankles are tied tight with way more rope then needed.

 

My ankles and heels are tight against my ass with the last few ropes holding me in an hog-tie. My gag has been replaced with a much larger and tighter one and I'm not going anywhere. Why do they even need Guards?

 

The Jeep finally stops moving and the back gate is opened as maybe two guys jump out. I hear someone bark out the order, "Put her on the table!" Three, maybe four guys grab me by my arms and legs . . . carrying me face down and still hog-tied.

 

I avoid struggling at this point for fear of being dropped face down. I'm put on top of what feels like a picnic table and the guys move away. Would love to give them a few more kicks, but that's not an option any more.

 

My breasts, thighs and stomach pushing against the hard wood, it was difficult to get a full breath. I must be one hell of a vision right now . . . covered in dirt, sweat, blood, torn clothing, hooded and hog-tied . . . and now it's time for their picnic and I'm the main course.