The Spicy Tales of Peril Group presents…
The Perils of Lianni
By Dana Bowman, Jeb, and Jeanne Thorne
Chapter the Fourth
The jungle girl stood in the center of the dimly lit hut, staring down at the motionless woman who lay face down on the crude blanket. It was just after midnight. The jungle seemed unusually hot and oppressive to the Goddess tonight, and her brow and chest glistened with a fine sheen of sweat.
Lianni never ceased to marvel at the miracles that Barac could performed. Less than twelve hours before, this beautiful young brunette had been beaten to within an inch of her life, her lovely body slashed and scored and brutalized. Now, as she lay slumbering peacefully, only occasionally stirring and giving out a soft moan, the pirate queen was already well on the path to recovery. Whatever magic potions the old man used put the medicines of the "civilized" world to shame. A thin, clear lotion covered her naked body, front and back, from the waist up, and Lianni could see that the shocking
weals and cuts were closing, healing, at a pace that was nothing less than amazing. Barac used such powerful devices only sparingly.
Today, after sedating the agonized woman, he had had his two female attendants strip and wash her and then had personally applied the secret potions, his wizened hands massaging them into her bloodied but still superb body. Jeanne-Marie had moved sensually beneath his hands but had only dimly been aware. Her mind was concussed by drugs and pain and roamed in an area of fevered nightmares until she fell finally into a sleep of utter exhaustion.
The golden-haired young woman stared at the pirate for a long time. She knew without doubt that the intruder was still dangerous and should be disposed of without further delay. Yet Lianni was too intrigued by the apparent power of this exotic beauty to do what was obviously necessary. She was challenged by the girl's strength and beauty, and simultaneously she wanted to lie tenderly by her side and to tame her excitingly defiant nature.
The Goddess slid a foot under the sleeping girl's belly and slowly lifted. With a soft moan, Jeanne-Marie rolled sanguinely onto her back, and lay motionless save for the soft, steady rise of her bared breasts. Lianni knelt beside her, studying the nude body as it gleamed in the firelight. Her right hand moved to the lovely chest and slowly drifted across it, feeling the texture and smoothness beneath the oily lotion. This woman was magnificent, there was no doubting it. Again, Lianni was struck by an urgent need to conquer and tame her.
Lianni looked up, into the dark corner where narrow yet bright eyes regarded the scene. "How long before she is completely healed, Barac?"
The old man gave her a toothless smile. "By the end of the day tomorrow. She is strong, Golden One...perhaps as strong as you."
"She threatens our people."
"Yes," Barac nodded. "She threatens you most of all."
With a final look at the nude sprawled before her, Lianni stood. "My people know who protects them, who keeps them safe. They have already had one display of who is the strong one."
"The intruder's ability to withstand that beating has confused them, Lianni. They are beginning to wonder if you are unique after all."
Lianni smiled at the old man crouching in the shadows. "And what do you think, Barac?"
"I think you will have to assert your dominion again, Goddess, and prove to them that this one is no match for you."
Lianni looked down once more at the long, slender, full-breasted beauty sleeping deeply before her.
"Heal her, old man. Get the bitch ready. Soon, the tribe will have all the proof they need, and this one will finally understand what it is to be tamed."
#
In her travels Jeanne-Marie had spent a great deal of time in the shadowlands between waking and dreaming. In the flesh-markets of Tangier she had reclined among assassins and breathed the thick, cloying smoke of the substance they called hasheesh, which dulled the senses but whetted the appetite for rich foods and sensual pleasures, as dusky young boys and dark-eyed wenches saw to both. In the rough palaces of warlords in Cathay she had partaken of the mystical distillation of the poppy, which made everything into dreams and seduced the dreamer into never wanting to awaken. In sun-kissed Jamaica, in the nightmarish swamps of Barataria, in the brothels of Bangkok, Jeanne had opened the gates of a hundred netherworlds.
But this was different. The wizened old savage had forced his bitter brew down her throat while his attendants held her down, and almost immediately Jeanne was propelled into a dimension she could not have imagined. Far from dulling sensation, the elixir awakened every nerve in her body. She could feel the physical with an acuteness she had never known -- the layers of skin, sinew, and bone became individuated entities, and she could sense the blood in her veins as a vast network of channels and tributaries. The agony of her whipping increased exponentially and she was aware of every square inch of flesh that had been scored and rent by the leather strap.
And yet Jeanne found herself at a strange remove, feeling but not caring, cognizant but not conscious. As the old man began to run his gnarled but strong hands over her, she felt herself responding as if to a lover, her back arching, her thighs caressing each other. She heard herself moaning through parted lips. But in the recesses of her mind she was traveling...
She opened her eyes and found herself not in the jungle hut of the Macumba shaman but on the aft deck of the Rover, put to high sea. A warm tropical breeze whipped her hair about as she looked to the foredeck and watched her crew manning the lines and climbing the riggings. Above her the sails were full, glorious in their billowing whiteness as they caught the providential wind and sped the ship toward... where?
Suddenly she knew. They were bound for home, the island fortress of Jeanne's fantasies, where rum and gold flowed freely and the moonlit nights were filled with the rough, joyous songs of sailors and the wailing of beautiful captives being ravished amidst the palms. There Jeanne-Marie reigned supreme, bedecked in silver and jewels selected from countless plunders, with wine on her lips and doubloons cascading through her fingers, and that sultry aristocratic she-cat Dona Angela lying at her feet, smoldering dark eyes pleading for attention...
No. Not Angela.
Lianni.
Jeanne felt her heart begin to race at the thought of the jungle girl's tanned limbs and flashing eyes, her full breasts responding to Jeanne's touch, the golden mane flowing over them both as she cried Jeanne's name over and over... Jeanne basked in anticipation and silently willed the wind to carry them faster.
But then the smile faded from her lips. The high wind shifted and died, collapsing the sails in sudden doldrum. Overhead, storm clouds began to gather like sharks. Something was missing. Something was wrong...
Jeb is dead.
In the hut, the pirate queen's body began to buck and heave beneath the witch doctor's ministrations. The women grabbed her arms to keep them from flailing.
Jeb is dead!
He had been at the rear of the company when the Macumbas attacked them, but when Jeanne had awakened to find herself bound to the sacred pole, her First Mate had not been among the survivors huddled in the rude cage. He was lying back in the jungle, his blood seeping into the brush, his magnificent body never to stir again... never to...
Jeanne threw back her head and howled at the thundering sky. Suddenly the ship pitched to starboard and tossed her against the railing. She felt her gorge rise and was about to heave into the ocean when she saw it.
The black water was littered with the dead, bobbing in the chop. Seamen and merchants shot, cut, and drowned. Women she had taken and sold, their exotic faces frozen in grim masks. Her crew, Macumba arrows still protruding from their bodies. All of them staring at her with open, lifeless eyes.
Jeanne looked frantically over the mass of corpses, searching. Finally she saw him. Jeb, rent by a dozen ragged wounds. The hands that had claimed her floated limply at his sides. The mouth which had moved her to ecstasy hanging open in an eternal silent death-scream. As rain began to pelt her back, Jeanne made a strangled sound of sheer despair.
"There is the price of your folly," the familiar voice said from behind her, clear as a bell over the crashing thunder. Jeanne whirled and there stood the jungle goddess. Proud, undaunted, glowing in her triumph as she spoke again, "There is the price of your unholy lust for wealth and power, your insatiable desire for what you cannot have. An army of the dead in your wake -- the men who trusted and obeyed you even as you led them into a trap they could not possibly have survived. Your lover, who saved your life. All of them have paid for your foolishness."
Jeanne's mouth worked soundlessly, her knuckles white as they gripped the railing. Lianni's laugh was almost musical as her eyes flashed in mockery. "And you imagined me at your feet? It will never happen. When you awaken, foolish bitch, it will be you who bows to me!"
"NEVER!" Jeanne snarled, feeling her knees buckle, her world growing dark around the edges. The last thing the pirate queen heard was the Golden Goddess laughing as she fell backward over the railing and into the waiting arms of the dead...
#
The Golden Goddess, as Jeanne-Marie had called her, returned to the hut just before daybreak. She stood in the doorway for a long time, silently watching the old man working over the body of the captive pirate. She was trying to come to terms with the strange, unfamiliar emotions that invaded her body the moment she had beheld this dark-haired hellion struggling violently in the grip of her men. The wildness, the fearless writhing of the young woman seemed to mirror Lianni's image of herself, and she found this both disturbing and arousing. The primitive instincts she had developed during her years with the Macumbas translated this into a deep feeling of hatred for Jeanne-Marie, who, in the grayness and dim light of dawn, was slowly beginning to stir and respond to the magical hands of the shaman as he worked tirelessly over her.
She heard the beautiful brunette moan softly, and the sound aroused the jungle girl instantly. Recognizing this, her mouth contorted in an angry grimace.
"Well? Is she recovering?" she asked from the doorway. Barac looked up and nodded. "Yes, the dark one is healing and regaining her strength, Soon she will be ready for you." Lianni walked to the center of the hut, and stood over both the figures. She looked down and felt her heartbeat intensify. The girl's body, her lush, tangled hair, and that look of defiance she had given Lianni after her whipping -- all of it affected Lianni beyond reason and sense.
'Uhhhhh..." Jeanne-Marie moaned again and stirred, and Lianni motioned to
Barac. "Leave us".
The shaman looked up quizzically at her, but rose without hesitation and stared at the magnificent lion-maned young woman. "She's still weak."
Lianni looked at him impassively. "Is she?"
The old man studied her for a moment, but found no doorway to the strange, unique mind behind those cold blue eyes. He bowed slightly and moved past her, leaving the blonde amazon to survey the pirate queen lying on her back before her. Slowly, Lianni knelt down by Jeanne-Marie's side and gazed into her dazed and clouded eyes. She put her left hand down, and slowly slid it through the thick mass of glossy dark hair, enjoying the sensation it produced in the pit of her stomach. The young beauty stirred, moaned gently at the touch. She looked up into the face above her, and began to remember....
"Bitch..." she gasped, "frigging...bitch..."
Lianni smiled.Her hand jerked hard on the hair in her fist and the pirate gasped. Lianni's other hand moved to her throat and then down between her gorgeous breasts, over the lush swell of her belly to the soft, fragrant hair beneath which lay the soft, pliant flesh of her exposed sex. As Lianni's fingers moved across the sensitive mound, Jeanne-Marie groaned and gasped, and her body began to move.
"Don't you...dare... you ... you pigfucking whore!” Jeanne-Marie fairly spat the words out, and Lianni's eyes narrowed.
"I see you're regaining some of your strength", she murmured. "That's good.
Time to demonstrate to you and the tribe once again who is the queen of this jungle.” With a swift movement of her hand, she pitched the dark-haired female onto her belly and, as the still weakened body of the young brigand struggled beneath her, jerked her arms behind her back.
"This is as good away to begin as any," Lianni laughed as she began to twine a length of hessian rope around Jeanne-Marie's wrists. Her eyes gleamed with arousal as she watched and felt the young woman struggling helplessly beneath her. Jeanne -Marie moaned in helpless frustration as she was so quickly restrained, and the memory of the previous day's brutal beating made her blood run cold. She doubted she could withstand another such beating, yet she knew beyond a doubt that she would never surrender to this savage, primitive woman, and would one day have her revenge.
Lianni reached down with one hand and gripped the ropes binding the pirate's wrists. With the other, she took handful of thick, dark hair and with a powerful wrench heaved the weakened girl to her feet, enjoying the gasp emanating from the young beauty's throat. She surveyed Jeanne-Marie’s magnificent body and splayed a hand over the lush, naked chest. As Jeanne-Marie writhed sensually beneath her hand, Lianni smiled and murmured, "A fine body such as this deserves to be seen." A firm shove sent the pirate queen staggering forward through the doorway, barely keeping her footing, out into the dawning light, out into the village clearing.
“AHHH!!" Jeanne-Marie gasped again as her hair was gripped tightly, her head jerked backwards on her shoulders, and she was shoved forward again. This time, she would have fallen had not the Goddess held her painfully by the hair. When Lianni suddenly released her with a shove, she stumbled onto her knees, almost falling flat on her face.
"You bitch!" the raven-haired beauty hissed, her eyes blazing with unadulterated hatred, and looked up at her blonde tormentor standing above her. “Take these ropes off and let's see who the warrior is in this Godforsaken village!" the pirate spat venomously. In response, Lianni raised a thick wooden club...
…and drove it hard along a rack of hollow, hanging logs. The resultant din brought the Macumbas running, the women clutching their children, the men their weapons of war. Zaba was the first to reach the two women in the center of the clearing. "Lianni…?" Zaba looked down at the defiant young beauty on her knees, then at the blonde jungle girl.
"Send the women and children back to the huts, Zaba. This is for the eyes of the men only."
The warrior nodded and gave the order. As Jeanne-Marie waited apprehensively, the crowd began to disperse, until only the men surrounded them. Lianni moved behind Jeanne-Marie, fingering a length of rope, feeling its coarseness. Slowly, she moved behind the kneeling figure, reached down, coiled a hand in her hair, bunched it. Then she began to loop the rope around it. Jeanne-Marie gasped as she realized what was happening. "What are you doing, you cunny?" she cried, trying to pull her head away as Lianni tied her hair with a strong knot. Then she cried out in earnest.
Her head was jerked backwards painfully, as the blonde yanked hard on the rope and knelt by Jeanne-Marie's feet. Smiling grimly, she wound the rope around the freebooter's ankles, over and over, tightening the rope until Jeanne-Marie's body arched backward like a drawn bow, hair tied to ankles in the most vicious way, her chest thrust upwards and outwards, mere vestiges of the healing oil still gleaming on her skin.
Lianni looked up and smiled as she saw all eyes agog at the sight of the struggling, arched woman before them. She stood and walked to Zaba, looking up into his eyes, studying his face. "Do you think she's beautiful?" she asked softly, and the massive warrior nodded silently. "Do you desire her?" This time the young chief hesitated. He did not understand completely his goddess's obsession with this amazing captive, but he clearly sensed the undercurrents. Finally he replied, "Yes. Who would not?"
Lianni smiled, and gently touched his arm. "My loyal Zaba... my best friend, I give her to you. Take her."
Zaba's eyes widened as they moved from Lianni to the bizarrely positioned body of the dark-haired prisoner kneeling helplessly before them. He began to move forward, but Lianni's hand on his arm restrained him. "But, Zaba, I want you to take her here, now. And I want you to take her in her vile, obscenity-spewing mouth."
She laughed as she saw his eyes widen at her words. 'Do it, Zaba," she murmured. "I command you."
With his eyes fixed on the Golden Goddess, he moved forward until he was standing above and in front of the dark beauty. He looked down at her. At her body, painfully stretched and arched. At her eyes, wide with pain, fear, and defiance. He surveyed the perfect, gleaming breasts and the taut nipples that held pride of place there. She was nothing short of magnificent, withthat lush mane of hair instrumental in holding her so powerless and helpless. He dropped his loincloth and moved over her upturned face.
"Get away from me, you filthy animal," Jeanne-Marie hissed with all the vitriol she could muster, then she moaned huskily. “God...no... no..."
And then she could no longer speak coherently as Zaba’s enormous cock was suddenly in her mouth, bloating her cheeks, invading her obscenely, pulsing within her. Driving forward and deep. Pushing back towards her throat as they watched, all of them, the Godforsaken heathens, watching as she was taken by this huge warrior and his massive member.
Lianni felt another incredible surge of excitement within her as she watched the scene unfolding. Zaba standing above the bound, kneeling brunette, pressing down with his strong hips, forcing himself deeper, ever deeper... into the girl's gaping, helpless mouth. Sounds like those of a trapped animal emanated from Jeanne-Marie as she struggled to breathe and take the huge cock in her mouth, to contain and accommodate it. She gagged as Zaba moved back and forward in her moist hole, and spittle ran down her chin. Her brown eyes were wild and staring, the humiliation of being publicly raped like this beyond the pale. She heard the excited mutterings of the men, transfixed by the sight of her being taken by Zaba, and she was vaguely aware of a smiling figure -- tall, bronzed, blonde, beautiful -- towering over it all.
As Zaba's frenzy increased and his thick, hard rod drove deeper and deeper into Jeanne-Marie's throat, Lianni stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Enough, Zaba. Don't waste your precious seed on the pathetic whore." With a massive groan, the warrior slid his cock from Jeanne-Marie’s raped mouth and stumbled backwards, barely able to control himself. Jeanne-Marie gasped and coughed and almost choked as she struggled to draw air into her lungs, the jungle girl staring down at her momentarily forgotten.
Lianni marveled once more at the woman's resilience, even as she took grim satisfaction in her humiliation. Disdainfully she put a foot on the girl's arm, and pushed her over onto her side. Jeanne-Marie groaned as the jungle girl stood over her bound form and snarled softly, "I hope you enjoyed that display. Prepare for many more."
As Jeanne-Marie lay gasping in the dust, wrists tied, scalp and spine burning from the vicious hogtie that bound her hair to her ankles, her mind was a snakepit of twisting, coiling rage. The whipping had been pure hell, but it had been merely a physical torment that had tested her stamina, a trial by fire that she had passed through sheer will. But this -- to be dragged out into the open air and used like a tavern-whore in a Bristol alley -- this was a raise in the stakes that even a pirate queen might not be able to match. She could still taste the Macumba chieftain's massive cock in her mouth -- it had a bitter tang of defeat.
Lianni motioned to two of the warriors. "Release her hair, but leave her wrists tied. Take her back to Barac." She knelt and looked into Jeanne-Marie's eyes. "I'll break you in two before I'm through. Don't doubt it."
It became painfully clear to Jeanne that she had underestimated the jungle goddess's determination to break her will, to reduce her to nothing, just as she herself had done to countless other women.
Just as she herself had done...
As the warriors released the cord that bound her hair, Jeanne's eyes flashed with sudden revelation, and she cursed herself inwardly for not having seen it before. Of all the lessons about human nature Jeanne had absorbed from the trafficking of human beings, one stood out above all others. Men were, by and large, of a piece when it came to breaking them -- make them understand superior force and they fell to heel like dogs. But women were a different matter. Each woman was unique and required special measures, an understanding of their strengths and weaknesses, their fears and desires. When she had tamed that English nobleman's daughter before turning her over to the Yemeni sheik, it had been through a regimen of degrading tasks and humiliating exposures to the crew. Dona Angela, on the other hand, had thrived on such things and begged for more.
In an instant Jeanne realized why she had made the enslavement of women her vocation. Every woman was a challenge, a contest of will and strategy, like a game of chess or a duel. This too was a game, and Jeanne had been playing it all wrong. Sheer defiance was getting her nowhere; Lianni held too much power here. So what did the jungle girl want? And what did she fear?
The answer to both questions was the same: Jeanne-Marie. Another white girl among these unworldly savages. A strong woman who dared to cross their goddess. A challenge to Lianni's uniqueness and inviolate, untouchable rule.
The warriors hauled Jeanne up by her bound arms, her ankles still tied as well, and began to drag her back to the shaman's hut like a sack of potatoes. And yet the writhing snakes inside Jeanne's skull fell still as she readied her parting shot. Flipping her raven mane aside she looked over her shoulder, not at Lianni, but at the young chieftain, his face like his member exposed and aching with denied release and desire. Jeanne looked into his eyes and gave him her most wanton look, her most inviting smile...