Jamilla’s crucifixion

Jamilla was already awake when the sunlight entered her cell. After the Romans had captured her a week ago at the villa of her master, they had locked her up in there. They had stripped her and tied her up tightly, her hands behind her back, she was forced to sit here in this dark cell. She have had a lot of time to think about what has happened, and, more important, the things to come. At first she had been scared to death by the thought of being crucified, but right now she had found peace with it. Jamilla knew what she had done, and she also knew that she deserved nothing better. There was no doubt that, if she was to be killed, it would happen out there for every one to see. She was just to beautiful to let her die in here. After all she was the most beautiful girl in and around the city, In fact the thought of starving in here scared her even more than a public humiliation. Being tied up all the time and at least raped and tortured, imagine taht! No, no, all well considered, crucifixion was the best she could hope for. At least her pain would be over in a few days instead of years. She didn’t dare to think that the soldiers wouldn’t come for her.

But then the door opened and a couple of men gave entered her cell and removed the ropes from her hands and feet. Jamilla felt some sort of relief when she left the cell. They would not let her starve. Thus far she had been very lucky. It was only now that she realized that nobody had abused her until now. She wasn’t raped, she hadn’t been whipped. The fact of being nude don’t scare her, as a slave girl she has experienced this form of humilation many times, it was usual for the female to walk nude trough the city up tot he crucifixion side, while the men are allowed to wear a loincloth.

As they came out of the dark hallways into the inner yard of the camp, Jamilla spotted a long, thin, wooden cross lying on the ground. “Pick it up!” one of the soldiers said. Jamilla walked towards the cross and lifted it on her shoulder. There was no use in trying to resist, which would only make it worse for her. Two soldiers came standing next to her and one of them hung a wooden plate around her neck with her name, her age and her crime carved in it. Jamilla expected them to push her forward in to the streets of the city, but they didn’t. Both of the soldiers were looking at a little door behind them. As Jamilla looked at it as well, she saw an other soldier coming out with a hammer, a ladder and a basket with nails. Long heavy spikes…

“So it ’s going to be a full nailing” Jamilla said to herself. Until now she had hoped that they would only use ropes or at least only nail her hands, but as she could count more than two nails, she knew she wouldn’t be that lucky. The soldier loaded the gear on a donkey and the other two gave Jamilla a gentile push on her shoulder. “Let’s go.” They said and the campgates opened.

Jamilla carried her cross through the narrow streets of the city. It wasn’t very heavy but despite the early hour the sun was already shining hot. As she came closer to the crucifixion site, more and more people were watching and following her, yelling things at her. She noted the views of the men, on her slim body, her well-shaped breasts, with the long nipples. Her master has pierced them years ago, she has to wear rings there, and the nipples has grown considerably. Except her long hair, her body has been shaved completely, even if the pubic hair has started to grow back, her crotch is visible for everyone.

“Look at you, you stupid basterds,” Jamilla said to herself “ shouldn’t you be working? No you just want to see me suffer, you want to hear me scream on the cross, you want to see the extreme fear in my eyes when they nail me to it. Well screw you! You think I’m afraid but I’m not, you think I’ll beg them for mercy, beg them not to nail my feet, but you’re wrong, wrong, wrong! I won’t. In fact I’ll show you that it doesn’t scare me, I’ll show you how a proud girl faces her destiny!”

As she took the last turn to the marketplace, Jamilla felt this strange sensation in her underbelly. She knew she was walking her last few steps ever. On the market place, one of the soldiers gave the order to stop right in the middle of the square. She let her cross slip to the ground, took a few steps back and looked at the people that came to see her humiliation. One soldier held a hand on her shoulder and took back the wooden plate as the other one unpacked the gear. The third one began to declare her verdict and why she deserved it. During that time Jamilla realized that the strange feeling in her underbelly wasn’t fear as she thought it was, but pleasure. Her crotch has become wet, she noticed it. Every single person on the square wanted to see her young, nude body exposed on the cross. She knew she turned on every man that came to see her today, but none of them would ever have her. She would remain an unreachable ideal forever. She knew she could give them a spectacle they would never forget, that would make every other women look like durt.

Right now Jamilla realized that her time had come. The third soldier reached the end of his speech.

Jamilla knew what she had to do, she would show the crowd she was not afraid. Slowly she walked towards the cross, looking at the soldiers. Then she turned around, looked at he crowd and went lying down on her cross. Before one of the soldiers could grab her, she placed both of her wrists on the crossbeam, waiting for the nails.

The soldier that was going to nail her held back his two accompagnons. “No, no, don’t grab her. I want to see if she really can take this.” Jamilla looked at him as he put the first heavy spike right on top of her wrist. There was no one holding her wrists in place, yet she did not pulled them away, when the soldier raised his hammer for the first blow. Jamilla looked closely as the point of the first nail was driven into her wrist. “Aagh!” The pain was more than unbearable, it didn’t just stay in her wrist. Like water spilled on a flat stone, the pain started to run in various directions, all through her body. Yet the nail had only cut a few muscles and flesh. Right now he was only pushing on her wristbones, slightly driving them apart. As much as Jamilla was suffering, she couldn’t move her arms. She could only watch how the hammer came down a second time. This time the nail crushed her wristbones. Jamilla could feel the couldnes of the steel against her bones. Again she could not hold back a short scream. The pain had now turned into a supernatural form of agony. One of the soldiers who was standing next to the cross, noticed how Jamilla was rubbing her beautiful bare feet over the sand in a useless attempt to lighten the pain. Although the nail hadn’t reached the beam yet, she managed to keep her tortured wrist in place. Her most beautiful body was already covered with sweat when the hammer came down for the third time. Finally the nail came out of her wrist again and made his first contact with the crossbeam. Jamilla felt a bit relieved because she thought the wrist part was over. Once the nail was through, it would be easier to bare. But she was wrong. The hardness of the wood made it very hard to finish the job. The executioner needed six more blows to get her wrist fully nailed to the beam, every blow causing Jamilla more and more pain in addition to the already unbearable agony…

At the first blow, Jamilla had pulled back her second wrist. “Aagh!” A short scream escaped her mouth every time the nail went deeper. Finally the last blow was given and the executioner stood up. Shortly he admired his work, then he walked over to the other side of the beam to nail her other wrist. Jamilla didn’t know how she did it, but she had managed not to cry. Although only one of the four nails was in place, she was already covered with sweat. She looked at her unnailed wrist once more, then she placed it on the crossbeam as she saw the executioner approached with the second nail. He looked at her beautiful young face while he went across her wrist with his fingers to locate the bones. When he found the right spot, he place the nail on it, held his hammer high up in the sky. Then he waited for a moment to see if Jamilla really wouldn’t pull down her arm now that she knew what it felt like to have one nailed wrist. Then he started his horrible job.

Jamilla thought she knew what she had to expect, but no one could ever get used to a sudden explosion of pure pain like that. Again her short screams filled the air, again her beautiful bare feet rubbed against the sand, but yet the agony seemed like at least a thousand times worse. Again she felt how the nail crushed some of her bones and drove others apart. It was in this pure sensation of nothing-but-absolute-agony- that Jamilla realized something strange. With every blow she screamed her little “AaAgh’s” as a message to every one on the square that she couldn’t take it any more. But now she realized, as her pain reached a new, horrible peak with every other blow that she wanted more. Though the agony made it quite impossible to keep her wrist in place, as long as the nail hadn’t pinned it to the wood, Jamilla realized she was able to do so, because she loved it. From this moment one, she could kill and love the executioner for what he was doing to her at the same time. She hated and admired him because he was able of hurting her like this. Though her agony reached unknown hights with every blow, she couldn’t wait for the next one. She watched closely how the nail disappeared deeper into her wrist and into the wood. When the executioner stood up after the nailing, Jamilla felt relieved and disappointed at the same time. Her body was under tension, shivering, excited, despite the heat her nipples remain hard all the time, and she notes that her juice has started to leak.

Jamilla looked at her beautiful nude body as the soldiers made preparations to pull up the cross. With her arms spread out like this above her head and her legs a bit opened to feel the sand under her feet for the last time, both her beautiful small breasts with their long and hard nipples and shaven pubic were exposed to the crowd. Yet Jamilla felt no shame, she felt only pain and a deep desire for more pain. Two soldiers were tying ropes to both ends of the crossbeam while the third one was placing some small pieces of wood at the bottom of the longpole so that the cross wouldn’t slide over the sand when they tried to raise it. Then they attached the ropes to their donkey as well. Then the executioner kneeled down at Jamilla’s feet. He grabbed them by the ankles and measured the length of her legs. He placed her feet on the longpole, right next to each other, so that her legs were slightly bent. He looked at it, changed the pose a bit, released her feet and carved a little bit of wood out of the pole, where he wanted her feet to be when he nailed them. Jamilla had observed his actions very well. For a moment she thought he was going to nail her feet before they raised the cross. She had loved the feeling of his hand around her feet. The two soldiers made the donkey pull up the cross while the executioner made sure the longpole would slip into the hole that was dug for it. As they raised her cross and her feet left the ground for the last time, Jamilla felt how her weight was no longer carried by the thin longpole but only by the two spikes that pierced her wrists. She had to scream. Little yelps of both extreme agony and pleasure escaped her mouth while the donkey was raising her cross. As her cross was almost in a complete vertical position, Jamilla spotted the carve made by the executioner to indicate the intended position of her feet. While the soldiers were making sure the cross wouldn’t fall back if they cut the ropes, Jamilla tried out her final footpose. With her feet against the longpole and her legs opened widely because of the roundness of the longole, she decided that it was both a humiliating and an exciting pose. Jamilla looked at her elegant ankles and her adorable toes. Soon her most beautiful feet would be nailed. To feel once more the pain of really hanging on a cross, she moved her legs away from the longpole, so that they were just hanging on either side of it. Now the executioner placed his ladder against the cross and climbed up to fulfill his duty.

As the executioner reached the final step of the ladder, Jamilla lowered her left foot and placed it right on the spot the executioner wanted it to be. He put the nail right on the most central spot of her foot, slightly adapted its pose so that the toes were really pointing towards the ground. Then he began the nailing. Once again Jamilla experienced a wave of fresh agony running through her body. Again she felt how the nail pushed against the bones of her foot and crushed them with the second blow. Again she let out her little yells every time the nail went a bit deeper. Even when the nail entered the wood after the third blow, she didn’t dare to put any weight on it. Her foot was causing her the same amount of agony as both her wrists. Oooh, she loved crucifixion right now; She thanked the people that invented this heavenly torture from the bottom of her heart as the final blows were given. As the executioner finished the nailing of her left foot, Jamilla felt a bit sad. Now her other foot was the only thing left. After that, her agony would slowly fade away … So she put her other foot right next to her nailed one. The executioner brought out the last nail. Jamilla closed her eyes as her bully raised his hammer. Very intensely she tried to analyze the waves of pain that were caused by the final spike. As the bones of her right foot were crushed she couldn’t hold back a small yelp. Also when she felt how the nail tore the skin of here sole apart, she simply had to release a little “ Ôah!” As the nail was driven further into her foot and the wood of the longpole, Jamilla first realized she was being put to death in the most cruel, horrible and agonizing way known in the whole of the Roman Empire, and that she just loved it. The soldier smashed the nail a bit deeper for the last time. Then he went down a few steps and nailed the wooden plate that quoted Jamill’s crime, name and age to the longpole, right underneath her beautiful, nailed feet. “Jamilla, twenty one year old, blonde slave, murder, theft and arson.” Then he stepped down, took away his ladder and together with one of his fellows he went back to the camp. The third one staid to guard Jamilla so that no one would get her down of there.

Although it had seamed a lot longer, her crucifixion had only taken half an hour. Now most of the spectators resumed their work on the market. For Jamilla, the real horror of crucifixion was about to begin. Right now she realized that the pain in her wrists became too much to bare, even for someone who loved it, so Jamilla had to push up on her feet. Putting her entire weight on the nails piercing her feet caused her a wonderful amount of pain, yet she had to let go, if she didn’t want to faint, and she fell back on her wrists. But very soon, again, the pain in her wrists forced her to retry the push up. The Romans had spiked her in a very ingenious way. By bending her legs just a little bit, Jamilla had to face the problem where to put her weight, but she couldn’t suffocate that easy. As she looked around to see what the other people who had watched her crucifixion were doing. Some people were still looking at her, pointing out to each other how well she was nailed. Jamilla herself was also admiring the work of her bully. While she was at it, she saw that she wasn’t bleeding as much as she thought. The only blood Yamilla saw was the blood that had run out of the wounds when the nails were still driven in. Meanwhile the soldier that staid behind walked over to the fountain and took a drink. He didn’t return to the cross but went strait to one of the stalls on the market. He decided to watch over her from there, in the shadow. On the cross, Jamilla was exposed to the sun. Very slowly her bronzed skin was burning. As she saw the guard take a drink, Jamilla became aware of her own thirst. She wondered whether she could ask for some water as well. After a while her thirst became so big she decided to risk it. “Can…can I have some water to, please…?” she moaned. The guard fulfilled her request and put a cup filled with water on the top of his spear. Jamilla drunk it all and asked for more several times, especially around noon when the sun was burning every drop of liquid out of her.

Jamilla now realized that the pain wasn’t fading away at all. She didn’t know why but the spikes kept hurting her as much as they did when they were driven into place. She looked once more to the nails piercing her body. As she could clearly feel, al four of them were smashed through some bones. “I wonder…” she thought. Jamilla tried to move her fingers, but some of them didn’t react to her command. Also her toes weren’t completely movable. The sight of the spikes entering her feet and wrists fascinated her. Jamilla tried to reach the head of the nails in her wrists. Her fingers could only touch the top of the nails. Her excitement still remains, and her crotch has started to leak, she notes the liquid running down the lips, and the it drops down to the sand.

As the sun went down and the market became empty, Jamilla first realized she would never leave her cross again. Even her corpse would be left up there after she died. She wondered what it would be like, if she died. Would she pass out and never awake again? She didn’t know.

Jamilla’s first night on the cross was filled with agony. There was now way of getting some sleep up there. If the pain didn’t keep her awake, then the coldness of the night would make sure she didn’t sleep. The hours passed slowly, way to slowly, but when Jamilla finally thought she was used to it, the first rays of sunlight announced a new day….

As the market became crowded again, people returned to her cross to see how she was doing. "You 're realy enjoying this, aren't you?" Jamilla managed to ask her public. Of course they did. "Guess what," Jamilla moaned as a reply, "so do I..."

According to some spectators who had seen a few crucifixions already, Jamilla was “dancing” real nice. She was pushing herself up on the spikes piercing her feet and falling back on her wrists al the time. Even if she didn’t had to push up to get some fresh air, she still forced herself to do so. It largely increased her pain. It was her second day on the cross, but Jamilla felt far from exhausted. Now she knew why she hadn’t been raped or whipped: If she were still strong when they nailed her to her cross, she would last longer. Once again Jamilla looked at her beautiful body. The nails fascinated her, how they disappeared in her wrists and feet. Only four nails, but they put her in hell. Right now the thought crossed her mind that despite of the fact that she had been drinking quite a lot yesterday, she didn’t have to pee. The sun burned away every single drop of liquid, even the water from the fountain. In the afternoon, Jamilla felt how she was becoming weaker and weaker, how the pain slowly faded. Right now she wished she could live through it al again, from the cell, to the first nail, the moment of triumph when she exposed her completely nude body to the overwhelmed crowd, the nailing of her wrists and feet, her complete crucifixion. Later that day Jamilla lost conscience. She didn’t saw how a rich salesman paid of the guarding soldier and ordered his men to get Jamilla down from her cross. She didn’t even realized the nails were pulled out.

Jamilla looked out of the window as the sun came up. Six months had passed since her crucifixion. Her wounds had completely healed. The salesman had dropped her of at one of his houses in a small village while she was still unconscious. An other girl slave had told her everything. She had never seen him until now. He was standing in the inner yard, saying goodbye to someone. Then he entered Jamilla’s room. “You’re so beautiful” he said. “You’re so beautiful that you can ask me anything. Ask me and I’ll do it!” Jamilla looked at him as he touched her face. “Well, there is one thing you could do…” She answered.

Later that morning, the entire village watched how Jamilla publicly undressed herself. Completely nude, she walked over to the cross and went lying down on it. She smiled at the salesman as he approached with the hammer and the nails. “Nail me!” she said.

This is the story of a spoiled teenage coed who is
forced to accompany her parents on an African safari.
She becomes separated and is kidnapped and abused by
jungle savages and other nasty sorts. There is no real
violence... aside from the rapes, non-consensual sex
and bondage, that is.

AFRICAN DRUM'S - Part 1

Kristen had whined the entire week before they
left. She had whined and sulked during the plane flight,
and was now whining, sulking, pouting, and occasionally
snarling. Going on an African safari, far from chili
dogs, pizza, MTV, and her friends, was not her idea of
a holiday.

For once, though, her parents had held firm. They
intended that this would be a good old fashioned family
holiday, and were determined to enjoy it if it killed
them, and her. No amount of whining, cajoling and beg-
ging had managed to sway them.

Thus she was now standing on the runway in a
baking heat, watching her father wave forlornly at bag-
gage handlers who zipped by as if he were invisible. It
was little wonder, what with the enormous amount of lug-
gage sitting beside him.

Kristen herself was very far from invisible to the
baggage handlers, as well as all the other bemused,
astonished and wondering Africans within sight. If she
noticed the stares, she gave not sign. She was, after
all, used to be stared at, though not in quite the same
way.

She was, as she well knew, a lovely, even stunning
young woman. Her development had started early. Even
when she was eleven years old, her physical maturity
was such that she was taken for a girl several years
older. She'd learned quickly that the men who looked at
her so closely could be manipulated in a variety of ways
to her benefit.

At eleven, that merely meant cooing and blinking
her eyes. By twelve she was wearing tight or revealing
clothes and positioning her body in such a way that
older boys and even grown men would groan and flash
carnal visual images in their minds.

By the time she'd turned thirteen, she was an
expert at manipulation, at controlling and maneuvering
men, using their weakness for her nubile teenage body
to make soft jelly of their hearts and minds, and hard
steel of their prongs.

She'd lost her cherry before entering high school,
to a handsome teacher who'd responded by changing her F
to an A. Usually she didn't have to actually sleep with
them of course. A little cooing and sultry whispers,
combined with a kiss or two sometimes did it.

For more difficult cases, she'd casually rub her-
self against them, or let them cop a feel of her boobs,
or crotch, and sometimes even jerked them off.

She'd gotten great grades in High School without
having a particularly nimble mind, or studying hard.
Others wondered about that, but as a leader of her peer
group in school, few openly questioned her methods for
academic achievement.

It was the same in college. She'd started just
this year, and had found the college professors even
more willing to come under her sway. The high school
teachers had the added worry, first of arrest, and
even after she passed the age of consent, of firing,
if caught with her.

College teachers didn't really have to worry
about that. Affairs between students and teachers
weren't unusual. They could freely make use of what
she offered in exchange for good grades, and not worry
about consequences.

Now, as she stood on the runway, clad in her
tight short shorts and her purple tank top that was
cut off just below the breasts, she was the near
perfection of a sexual creature. She didn't even have
to try and pose anymore. Any position she took could
automatically bring males organs to erection.

Her body was that of a goddess, perfect in it's
Ivory Whiteness, gleaming with health. There was not a
pimple, mole, or freckle anywhere on it. She was tall
and effortlessly graceful, her movements that of a
ballet dancer.

Her breasts were large enough to cause double
takes, but not large enough to detract from the perfect
symmetry of her shape. They were high and perfectly
round and of a firmness few young women ever achieved,
even during arousal. Her nipples were tiny pink nubs in
the exact center of each breast, which, when hard,
lengthened to an almost unnatural length, standing out
hard and ultra sensitive.

Her legs were the kind that made men run into
poles, so transfixed were they by the long gleaming
contours of her perfect thighs, shapely calves and
sweet and lovely knees.

Her ass would have won awards if such were given,
and if she had ever deigned to enter any contest. It
was the perfection other women longed for, had opera-
tions for. Not an ounce of fat, not a hint of imper-
fection marred her sweet and sumptuous buttocks. They
were more perfect in their shape when she slouched in
her sneakers than most women achieved in six inch heels
and tightly shaping pants and jeans.

Her face was the profile of delicate loveliness.
Her eyes were wide and bright, bright blue. When she
wanted, they were the eyes of an appealing child.
Within an instant they could turn sultry and wanton.

Her nose was a mere button, a little snub thing
that made the women sigh and smile. Her mouth was nar-
row and luscious, her lips full and sensuous, her teeth,
brilliant white perfection. Taken as a whole, her face
was enough to make grown men and women weep, the men
with regret, that they would never know her intimate
acquaintance, the women with amazed jealousy.

Her hair was the perfect frame for such a won-
drously sculpted visage. It was chest long and as
feathery soft and fleecy as the finest silk. At the
same time, it was luxuriously thick, cascading around
her head and splashing over her shoulders and down her
chest and back like a lustrous waterfall halted in mid-
fall.

All of these taken together drew lustful and en-
vious stares and gasps wherever she went, and contri-
buted to what was, admittedly, more than a hint of
arrogance, haughtiness and vanity. Being rich always
tended to draw people into immodesty. Being rich as well
as stunningly, dazzlingly, ravishingly, gorgeous, gave
her an ego hard to reign in, even on those odd occasions
when she tried.

Of course, her luscious silhouette and mouth
watering face were not the only reason she was drawing
stares at the moment. The main point of attraction
for the Africans was her hair, which was a bright, but
not unattractive shade of pink.

If she had been aware of the amusement, or con-
fusion her hair color was causing, she would have simply
sniffed about the crudeness and lack of sophistication
of the watchers, utterly certain that wherever in the
world she happened to be, whatever she happened to be
wearing was THE height of fashion, and that included
hair coloring and style.

She was not aware of the bewildering looks though,
since all her attention was focused on herself, and the
unhappiness and uncomfortableness she was presently
feeling. These were not things Kristen was normally
forced to contend with.

Seldom in her short life had she been refused any
pleasure, comfort or want, however fleeting or tran-
sitory. Everywhere she went she was granted boons
favors and generosity. At home, her slightest wish was
her parents most important demand. Nothing was denied
her.

Of course this went a long way to explaining her
self indulgent nature, her selfishness and vain outlook
on life. Kristen was about as spoiled as any human
being that walked the face of the earth, and as shallow
as a dried river bed.

Though she was far from stupid, an original
thought had never crossed her pretty little mind. She
followed the dictates of her social group to the
letter, her every move governed by whatever happened to
be "IN."

Now here she was sweating, SWEATING! In a sauna
that was permissible, but out in the open, in her
clothes, it was utterly intolerable.

"Dadddeeeeeeeeee," she whined. "Can't we go in-
doors where it's air-conditioned?"

"The building isn't air-conditioned sweetheart.
It's hotter than out here," he replied.

"Not air-conditioned?" She was truly amazed. In
her experience all buildings were air-conditioned. What
kind of a place was this?

"Ahhh, here comes our driver I think," her father
sighed with relief.

Kristen turned to see a boxy looking car racing
towards them in a cloud of dust. She squinted her eyes
against the sun, then put her hand over her mouth as
the thing drew up in front of them, hurling small
pebbles and dirt all around.

"You Charles Taylor?" a voice demanded.

"I am."

"Righto."

A figure jumped out of the box and moved around to
stand in front of them. Kristen looked up in disgust.
The man was in his early thirties, tall, with coarse
dark hair and weathery tanned skin, he wore a cheap
brown short sleeved shirt and dark green pants tucked
into boots, not even designer boots.

He was sort of handsome, in a rugged, cowboy type
way, with a thick, barrel chest and enormous, biceps.
His hands were big and rough from work, and his chest
hair curled out through the half open shirt. Kristen
wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"Pleased ta meet yah." The man said, holding out
his big hand at Taylor. "I'm Joe Steel."

"How do you do?" Charles said, shaking hands.
"This is my wife Lucy..."

"Charmed." Lucy said, waving her hand back and
forth in front of her face to stir a little breeze.

"And my daughter Kristen."

"Hi there Kris." he grinned, his eyes sliding
quickly and appreciatively up and down her body.

"Kristen." she said, stiffly, glaring in reproach.

It didn't do to let the help become to chummy to
begin with, and nobody dared call her Kris.

With no further delay Joe had begun hefting their
bags one and two at a time, and tossing them into the
rear of the "Rover" as he called it. He showed not
even a hint of effort at the heavy bags and was quickly
done, whereupon he jumped into the drivers seat to
await them.

Charles held open the rear door and Lucy and
Kristen carefully stepped in.

"Don't you have air-conditioning?" she complained.

"You're joking?" He laughed. "Air-conditioning!
What a laugh!" He then proceeded to laugh, long and
hard, before stomping on the gas pedal. The three pas-
sengers were thrown back against the weakly padded
seats as the Rover bumped and bounced across the dirt
field and out through the airport gate.

In a short length of time, they were driving
through an incredibly dirty and tacky looking excuse for
a city, with hordes of Black people wandering around
aimlessly and shrieking in some ugly foreign language
that Kristen knew wasn't French or Italian, the only
two acceptable languages other than English.

"How far is the hotel?" She grumbled.

"Hotel? We ain't goin' to no hotel, gorgeous.
We're heading right for the jungle. We'll pick up the
rest of the gear in Bankoland, then head inland."

"You mean we'll be traveling in this?!" she de-
manded in astonishment.

"That's it beautiful."

"But... but... but... we CAN'T travel in this!"
she exclaimed.

He looked back at her in irritation. "And just
what's wrong with this? This is a helluva fine machine,
girl. It'll take you through damn near anything without
stalling."

"How long do we have to be riding around in this
thing?" She demanded.

"This is your ride for the duration, Princess." he
grinned.

"Daddeeeeeeee!"

"Now look, precious, we could hardly travel in a
Rolls in the middle of the jungle," he tried to placate
her.

"Couldn't you get something that was at least air-
conditioned!?"

"You'll never get acclimatized with air-condition-
ing pinky." Joe grinned.

"What?"

"He means you won't get used to the heat,
darling."

"I don't want to get used to the heat!" she stamp-
ed her foot on the floor.

"You ain't got no choice there, pinky."

"Don't call me that!" she demanded, furiously.

He laughed, which did nothing to cool her temper.
She folded her arms tightly, despite the heat, and sank
back in her corner of the seat, determined to sulk un-
til she was back home again. The Rover continued to
bounce along until they reached a small village outside
town.

There they stopped. There was six other four wheel
drive vehicles there waiting. Joe looked at them in
disbelief. "What in hell?" He jumped out and went to
the waiting native drivers, chatting furiously.

"You told me to find everything on the list and
bring it here with drivers." The man in charge said,
shrugging.

"What in hell was on the friggin list?!" Joe de-
manded. He poked his nose inside the rovers and jeeps,
his face growing more and more incredulous.

Finally he came over to stand in front of Charles.

"Are you nuts?" he demanded.

"Excuse me?"

"What in hell is all this junk? You got furniture
here, fer chrissake!"

"Yes, a few tables and chairs, and cots."

"Tables and chairs!"

"I suppose you've never sat in a chair or at a
table." Kristen sniffed, disdainfully. Joe glared at
her, then turned back to Taylor. "You have any idea
what this is costing you?"

"Of course I know." Charles said with dignity.

"How about how long it's gonna take us to pack up
and set down?"

"I'm sure they'll manage."

Joe closed his eyes and counted to ten.

"It's your funeral," he said before finally,
stomping over to the other drivers.

"Really." Lucy said. "Couldn't you have found a
better guide, Charles?"

"He is supposed to be the best, my dear."

"He smells badly." Kristen sulked.

"I dare say we'll all smell badly soon." Her
father said, altogether too happily. Both women looked
at him in disgust.

They bounced down dirt roads for several more
hours, with the other cars riding along behind. They
left the road then, going through the jungle on even
more bouncy trails. Just when she was certain she
couldn't take another minute, they stopped in a small
clearing by a river.

"All right. We're here." Joe said in obvious re-
lief. He almost dove out of the rover, moving as far
away from Kristen as he could get. Never had he had to
bear such a constant unending barrage of whining com-
plaints, and snotty comments.

If she had known the fantasies he'd used to try
and block her out for most of the afternoon, Kristen
would have been outraged. In truth, they weren't all
that different from most men's fantasies about her,
except for being considerably more violent.

The dozen natives proceeded to set up the camp,
which included two large tents, each ten feet by twelve
feet and tall enough for a tall man to stand. Inside
each they carried a large round plastic bathtub, which
they set up in a curtained corner, along with the
portable toilets.

They attached round curtain rods to the tubs, then
put on the curtains. A pipe with a shower nozzle on the
top was put into place, and a generator to power the
pumps, along with other gear, was started up. One large
vehicle was entirely filled with big drums of water,
which were rolled over and attached to the pumps.

Joe sat on the front bumper of his Rover and
watched in stunned amazement as the tubs, along with
tables, chairs, benches and cots were all unloaded and
brought into the tents. Each time Kristen saw him, she
turned up her nose and sniffed in disdain. Joe imagined
what a good sturdy leather belt would do to her round
little behind.

The Taylors wandered around, enjoying the scenery,
what there was of it no further than a dozen yards from
the camp at least. Kristen accompanied her parents,
shrugging and sniffing at everything they pointed out.

He's got a big campfire going, for the atmosphere,
Charles had said, since of course they'd brought por-
table propane stoves and lanterns for heat and light.
The fire drew the only appreciative statement from
Kristen Joe had heard all day. She'd allowed that it
was "OK."

Soon after things were installed, the Taylors all
retired to their tents and the pumps started up. Joe's
mind filled with the image of the pink haired girl
having a shower and despite his irritation at her,
found his loins stirring.

Normally he wouldn't have dreamed of it, but the
little bitch had been such a snotty little thing that
he almost felt she owed him one, a look that is.

With nobody in sight, he unzipped the tent and
poked his head inside, then walked in, poking his head
out to be sure nobody had seen him. He moved across
the room to the little curtained alcove, then looked
inside.

The curtain that ran around the tub was in place
and water pattered off it weakly. The pumps were only
as good as the power source which had to be small
enough to cart around. Still, a good spray of water
enveloped the girl as she stood under it.

The plastic curtain was solid, and only her shadow
showed through. Not a man to hesitate, Joe wandered
across the few feet that separated it from him and
pulled it aside slightly.

Her back was to him, and what a back! Despite his
many experiences with women he had to swallow a sigh of
appreciation. He shook his head as his eyes beheld her
beautifully proportioned body, the lovely round swells
of her buttocks and magnificent legs.

She turned and he let the curtains fall. Then
opened them a crack. Her head was tilted back and her
hands were rubbing shampoo through her long hair. He
closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again.
No, he hadn't been imagining.

"Good Christ!" he murmured, his voice easily
covered by the sound of splashing water. What a body!
His eyes lingered over her upturned breasts, looking
even more golden and perfect as she unconsciously
thrust her chest up and out.

Her belly was smooth and flat and looked like the
softest thing on earth. Her damp pubic hair, she was a
blonde, he saw, barely covered her dark little slit as
she stood with legs slightly apart.

The water trickled off her gleaming wet skin,
giving her a slick, oily look that set his heart pound-
ing and his cock pulsing. It was all he could do to
keep from jumping in and screwing her right then and
there.

Luckily, he was a strong man mentally as well as
physically. He backed away and stumbled out of the tent
his eyes wide and dazed. No matter her personality
flaws, he was going to have the little bitch if it was
the last thing he did!

He set out to please her as soon as she returned
from her shower. His attempts to curry favor and amuse
her failed dismally however. She was used to men trying
to charm and please her and was in no mood for it. Be-
sides, he was as far from her type as it was possible
to get without actually being ugly.

His smile became strained over the course of the
evening, as his most gallant, courteous and congenial
attempts to strike up friendship, or even a conversa-
tion, failed dismally, shot down by snotty remarks,
arrogant condescension and rude and brusque dismissals.

He was in a foul mood when he went to sleep that
night. It didn't get any better the next day, as she
repeated her whining and complaining to such an extent
he was reduced to angry growls and snarls himself. When
she haughtily summoned him to her tent that evening, he
was in no mood to be pleasant.

Her constant sniveling had driven him to tear into
his stash of brandy far sooner than normal, and he was
ready to bite somebody's head off. None would be better
than hers.

Kristen was wearing a light white designer shirt,
that, because of the heat, she'd completely unbuttoned
and then tied together below her braless breasts.

That her magnificent orbs were thus encased in two
tight sacks that became translucent as she sweated, did
not apparently occur to her, and if it had, she
wouldn't have cared. Tormenting men, even ones she dis-
liked was commonplace to her.

Her shorts were the kind of baggy, multi colored
things currently in vogue in California, and looked
preposterous here, but again, that didn't occur to her.

"What is it?" He almost snarled after pushing
through her tent flap.

"This thing doesn't work." she complained, point-
ing at the shower.

"So what do you want me to do about it?" She look-
ed at him like he was exceedingly stupid.

"Fix it." She said, pronouncing each word careful-
ly as she stared at him.

"It ain't my shower." He glared.

"You were hired by my father..."

"To guide you through the jungle. You want a
plumber go and find one."

"How dare you!?" she glared in outrage.

"Oh stuff a sock in it." he snapped.

"When I tell my Daddy..."

"You can tell Daddy whatever the bleeding hell you
want you silly little cunt. I'm tired of listening to
your whining and bitching and complaining!" He moved
right in front of her, staring down angrily from inches
away. She backed up in consternation, but he kept mov-
ing forward until she was backed against a table.

He jammed his face right up against hers. "Your
shit don't stink! Do it?"

Kristen's eyes and mouth opened in amazement. No-
body, but nobody had ever talked to her like this
before.

"I... I... I..."

"Oh can it! I'm sick of listening to your whining
voice!" He shoved his face even closer, forcing her to
bend backwards across the table.

"You are the snottiest little ice maiden I've ever
seen in my life! You and your Goddam bathtubs and God-
dam CD player and your Goddam pink hair! What kind of a
crazy wears pink hair anyway!?

"It... it's the latest s... style." she stuttered.

"Style! Ha! " He backed up slightly, his eyes
glaring as he looked her up and down. "And your
clothes. You wave your little ass around and show off
your fat titties and then look down your nose at anyone
that takes notice!"

He poked his nose in her face again, forcing her
back. "What you really need is a hard belt across your
dainty little rear end! Or better yet a good hard cock
up your tight, cold little hole!"

Kristen gasped in shock, her skin flushing red in
embarrassment and outrage.

"I bet for all your showin' off your still a
stinking virgin!" he snarled.

"I... I am not!" she whined.

"Bullshit! I can't imagine you letting any man
between those legs of yours!" He reached his hand down
and cupped her left breast through the sweaty
blouse. "The only one that's ever touched these are
you!" He sneered, again putting his face right up
against hers.

Kristen was now terrified. She was in a situation
she'd never faced in her life. Someone didn't like her!
Someone was being mean to her, yelling at her and call-
ing her names. She didn't know how to deal with it and
gaped at him in shock, not even trying to slap his hand
away from her hot, sweaty breast.

"What about it, little Miss Ice Queen?" he smirked.

"Or are you a lesbo? That wouldn't surprise me. A
man hating little homo!"

"A... am not!" she whimpered.

"Yeah?" He curled his lip into a sneer, then
abruptly, jammed his big hand down the front of her
shorts. The button tore off, popping across the tent
as his hand forced into the thin garment. Kristen
gasped again, her eyes staring down in shock.

Joe's hand slid right under her panties and cupped
her bare flesh, squeezing up against her pussy mound.
His eyes continued to stare into hers and as she looked
up, she felt held there, her own eyes unable to pull
away as his fingers began to rub up and down over her
cunt.

End Of Part 1

Story: Arena of Death

Warning: Contains Snuff and Violence!

Sophie heared her own heart beat as she looked through the scope of her sniper rifle. She tried to calm down, but the 20 minute foot walk up the steep hills got her blood pumping, even though her 18 year old body was in very good shape. Maybe it was the adrenaline that kept her pulse up. Sophie tried not to think about the fact, that there was a high risk that she wouldn’t survive this part of the tournament. Yesterday she was lucky to escape death at the very last second. Today she might be not so fortunate. The other team might have learned from yesterday’s mistakes. This time they will try to eliminate the opponent’s snipers as soon as possible. Which meant nothing else than eliminating HER!

It would have been naive to think they would simply shoot her quickly and painlessly. Sophia was one of the players who was casted for her fantastic looks. The viewers at home watched this show because they wanted to see some good old violent sex and erotic torture prior to a kill. Sophie would make the perfect victim for such a scene… with her athletic body, her firm breasts, her sexy long legs and her angel-like face, she would have the viewer’s attention during a nasty rape orgy to the death.

Sophie had been fantasizing about getting raped and murdered ever since she found her uncle’s snuff porn collection, when she was a little girl. Today might be the day when her brutal fantasies might become real… the thought of getting raped and tortured to death sent a shiver across her spine and made her nipples hard.

She thought about all the contestants that were killed during yesterday’s round in this perverted tournament. “Arena of Death” was THE number one live TV show right now. Everyone was watching it, though some people had a hard time admitting, that they enjoyed watching a televised gladiator fight to the death. The idea wasn’t new. Even in ancient Rome, sadistic fights to the death were organized to entertain the crowds. This was just a modern version of this ancient form of “entertainment”. Since the organizers were competing with many similar TV and live shows, they had to take it to the max. During each round of the tournament, a total of 400 contestants were fighting against each other in two teams: Team White and Team Black. Each team consisted of 100 male and 100 female “gladiators”. The fight took place in Arizona in a large valley, surrounded by a couple of hills. Each round lasted for 120 minutes. There was basically no other rule than: kill or get killed. The surviving contestants got a 5-figure prize money. Some were in it for the money… some contestants were convicted criminals, who had nothing to lose since they were sentenced to death anyway. And some were in simply for the thrill. Sophie had applied for the “Arena of Death” in order to convert her life long prison sentence, that would have started last week on her 18th birthday. It was her addiction to violent porn that got her in trouble in the first place. When she was 15, she was caught paying for a darknet snuff live stream. She will never forget the moment, when the SWAT team raided her house as she was masturbating in front of her laptop to the live stream where a couple of girls were abused to the death; partly financed with Sophie’s money. Serving her sentence by taking part in “Arena of Death” was kind of ironic since this show was not much different than a live snuff show.

So, here she was, assembling her high precision sniper rifle on the top of the little hill, where she had a perfect view over the entire valley. As a member of “Team Black” she wore her dark “uniform”, which consisted of black army boots, a black slip which was barely covered by a black mini skirt and a dark sports bra. Her blonde hair was a nice contrast to the dark outfit. She really looked extremely sexy and hot… no wonder the casting agents accepted her application right away. Well not right away of course… like all the other female “applicunts” as they liked to call them, had to spread their sexy legs on various casting couches for a couple of really rough casting sessions. But Sophie never had a problem with being used as a helpless sex toy… she actually got off multiple times during the brutal casting orgies. She even dated one of the casting agents and went with him to one of the public execution shows, where they impale a couple of death row girls “dolcett style” in front of a live audience. Sophie loved it, when her date channeled his sexual aggression and used her as a helpless piece of fuck meat, while one girl after the other got the metal spit up her cunt on the stage in front of them.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the signal, that would announce the start of the game. The next two hours would decide if she would end up getting raped and tortured to death for the entertainment of millions of viewers, or if she would make it… avoiding her jail sentence and leaving this tournament with a pile of cash.

Sophie knew that the first 30 minutes of the “game” would be crucial. She had to shoot as many opponent “players” in order to give her Team an advantage. She scanned the valley with the scope of her rifle… but so far none of the players were leaving their hiding spots. Then she discovered a group of 6 male players from her own team, about 500 feet away. When she zoomed out she suddenly saw a bush moving behind her team. Three girls from Team White were slowly sneaking up on her fellow team mates from behind. Sophie tried to get a clear shot at the girl in the middle. The adrenaline was pumping through her veins… she couldn’t afford to miss… from what she could tell the girls were in their early 20s… maybe even younger. The thought of ending a young girl’s live just like that excited her. Only one move of her finger and someone’s daughter would be history… having the power to end a girl’s live had an extremely arousing effect on Sophie. She could feel her nipples getting hard, and her clit swelling up… There was no time to waste… the girls almost reached her fellow team mates…. with a trembling index finger, she pulled the trigger! Sophie could hear the girl screaming as the bullet hit her left arm… Damn! She was aiming for the head but the girl must have moved in the very last second. But the screams were enough to warn her 6 team mates… they immediately ran towards the 3 surprised young women and forced them at gunpoint to drop their weapons. Sophie was relieved when she saw, that the guys had the situation under control. She could have continued looking for other targets, but she was curious what the men would do with the overpowered women. She watched the scene unfolding through her field glasses. Now that she got a good look at the girls she realized how attractive and young they were. Of course they were wearing the same sexy “uniforms”, only that their mini skirts and bras were white instead of black. Initially she estimated them to be in their early 20s but now that she got a better look at them she wasn’t even sure if they were 18. It wouldn’t have been the first time, that underage “applicunts” made it into the show with fake IDs. The casting agents didn’t really care as long the girls looked hot and were experienced enough to give good blow jobs.

The 6 men in their late 20s did, what most men would have done in this situation. They forced the 3 girls to get rid of their sports bras and mini skirts. The teen girls complied immediately… In fact the pretty brunette obviously tried to save her life by offering sex to the men. She played with her firm breasts and pulled down her slip to give the guys a peek at her shaved teenage pussy. It was obvious, that the men didn’t respond in the way this little bitch hoped. They humiliated her, by laughing at her poor attempt to fuck herself out of this situation. The guys didn’t have any time to waste, so instead of listening to the girl’s pathetic pleads to let them live, three of them forced the teenies to blow their hard cocks on all fours while the other 3 men would play with their exposed pussies. One guy enjoyed pressing the blade of his army knife against her thighs… slowly moving the blade up to her crotch, pushing her slip to the side and sliding the dull side of the blade between her pussy lips. The little blond one was being fucked in her ass with the muzzle of gun. And the girl who got shot in the arm had her shaved cunt roughed up by the large fingers of the guy standing behind her. When he was done pulling her cunt lips violently apart, fingering her with four fingers at once and giving her a couple of strong slaps on her clit, he finally pushed his hard cock deep inside her tight teen cunt. The other guys followed his lead and a violent rape orgy emerged in front of Sophie’s eyes. Watching those 3 petite teen sluts getting roughed up, chocked, beaten, kicked, raped and abused was a real turn on for Sophie and she couldn’t resist taking care of her own itching pussy. With each second the ultra brutal gang rape became more and more violent. This wasn’t a fucking BDSM fuck… there was no point in being careful not to inflict permanent injuries… there was no fucking “safe word”… this was a DEATH FUCK! The real violence started, once the men shot their hot semen inside or onto the helpless fuck meat. Now it was time to figure out, what other objects could be used to penetrate 3 helpless teenage vaginas… After violating the girls’ exposed sex organs with various oversized or sharp objects, it was time to finish the girls off. Sophie almost climaxed when she saw one of the guys approaching the little blonde one with a signal rocket. While three other men held her down and pulled her legs apart, he positioned the lower side of the rocket towards her abused crotch. The remaining two guys forced the other two girls at gunpoint to take turns burning each other’s clits with a cigarette lighter. After a terrifying countdown he ignited the signal rocket right in front of the poor little blonde’s teen pussy… the more than 1000 degree hot magnesium flame completely burned the girls crotch including her pussy lips and clit. Then he pushed the burning rocket inside her little fuck hole and enjoyed her screams. At this point Sophie had two ultra intense orgasms in a row. As she slowly recovered from her last climax she saw the two remaining girls having their sex organs completely destroyed with a couple of close shotgun shots right between their legs. Sophie had the honour of taking the girls out of their misery with three precise sniper shots to their heads.

Sophie realised that she spent way to much time watching the brutal termination of the three unfortunate girls. Using the field glasses she searched for her next targets. She saw several almost identical scenes, in which male players lived out their violent sex and snuff fantasies on unfortunate female opponents. After all that’s what most viewers wanted to see when they tuned in to “Arena of Death”.

But her job wasn’t to enjoy the “show” but to help her team win this inhumane competition. So she tried her best to support her team by taking out opponents before they could harm her fellow team players. For example, she managed to save a couple of girls of her own team before the Team White players were able to ignite the dynamite sticks in their asses. But there was nothing she could do for the three female Team Black players that were just starting to slide down on wooden impalement poles in their destroyed vaginas. All she could do for them was a quick shot to their heads to take them out of their misery.

Sophie really had fun shooting 8 male Team White players that were just engaging in a ultra brutal gang rape of a couple of fellow Team Black girls. Those idiots didn’t even try to run for cover, when Sophie popped the head of the first guy. Apparently the remaining 7 men were so occupied with gang raping the Team Black girls, that nothing could stop them. Sophie enjoyed shooting two guys who were just wanking their cocks. The second guy even climaxed and shot his semen over the girls face right after Sophie’s bullet hit him in his stomache. When he tumbled to the ground, Sophie couldn’t resist to shoot him again… right into his balls!

Only a minute later, Sophie was surprised to see how sadistic a couple of Team White bitches were treating a bunch of fellow male Team Black players. The 4 men where bound to the ground, stripped naked while 7 young sluts teased the guys by massaging and licking their cocks. Sophie had heard about those sadistic games, in which the young woman threatened to torture and kill the guys if they should get an involuntary erection. It’s a cruel game since it’s almost impossible to avoid getting a hardon when a hot 19year old knows how to treat your cock right. In the next step the girls basically rape the guys by riding their involuntary aroused cocks while pointing a gun at them. In some cases, they threaten to kill the guy the second he cums. In other cases they ride his hard cock and threaten to kill him, as soon as he can’t keep it up. Sophie enjoyed shooting the horny bitches right during or even shortly before getting off. Even after she popped the first two girls, some of the remaining sluts kept pleasuring themselves. It was almost as if those horny cunts were turned on by the fact that a sniper was aiming at them… One brunette girl in her mid-twenties even kept rubbing her clit after Sophie popped a bullet in her knee. Being so eager to climax, Sophie granted her a very last orgasm, before shooting her right in her twitching fuck hole.

The longer the sexual slaughtering between the two teams went on, the more Sophie enjoyed the spectacle from her comfortable position. So far, none of the Team White players had found her hiding spot. She started to think that she might actually make it, and that she could as well enjoy the “show”. She took turns shooting Team White members and pleasuring herself violently to countless orgasms. In order to cum again she needed an even more intense kick… that’s why she didn’t even bother any more trying to support her team…. For example she could have easily saved four of her fellow female team mates from having their cunts whipped, but she preferred watching the pretty girls having their crotches whipped to pulp with heavy barbed steel chains. And watching those 6 other fellow team members getting forced to play “Russian Pussy Roulette” with a loaded revolver was such a turn on, that she decided to wait until the first unfortunate girl would hit a chamber with a bullet and blow her own crotch up.

Only 25 minutes left until the end of the game. And so far nobody even came near Sophie’s hiding spot. Completely exhausted from the 1,5 hour killing- and masturbation orgy, Sophie rested in the grass… completely naked and not very ladylike with obscenely opened legs. She enjoyed the sunrays drying her pussy juices on her red and sore cunt lips and clit. The distant screams and the gun shots from the valley started to sound like an ambient and soothing sound. As Sophie closed her eyes, pictures from the various fights and death tortures popped up in her brain. Her mind tried to process the vast amount of violence, pain, sex and death that she witnessed over the last 90 minutes. It was like her brain tried to compile a “best-of-video” of the most erotic and exciting scenes. And once again her young und obviously unsatisfiable body reacted in the way it always reacted to this kind of mental stimulation. She felt that tingling sensation between her legs, as the blood rushed once again into her 18-year-old sex organ… Her sore clit burned and she felt a little pain as she carefully pressed her fingers against it. The harder she pressed, the more pain she felt. She thought of all the girls that had to endure the ultimate pain of the total destruction of their female body parts. She asked herself: How does it feel getting your cunt lips torn violently apart… There was only one way to find out… it felt so intense as she squeezed her sore pussy lips between her fingers and started to pull them apart… the pain felt exhilarating… she squeezed her cunt lips as hard as she could and pulled them out as far as they would go… the pain felt so fucking good!

She was close to another painful orgasm, as she suddenly heard something. When she opened her eyes, she stared into the muzzles of 3 male Team White players. They had finally found her… Only 18 more minutes and she would have made it. Sophie felt the panic rising inside of her. The adrenaline shot through her veins and she was completely frozen in shock and panic. She didn’t even try to cover up her obscenely spread pussy… The three muscular men in their late 20s obviously were surprised to see this 18 year old gorgeous innocent looking cutie, lying next to her rifle, slip and miniskirt, furiously masturbating her red and sore teenage pussy. There was no point in telling her to strip naked and spread her legs, like they did with the last 7 female players, they caught. It looked like this horny bitch was just waiting for them. They didn’t waste much time… meanwhile they were a rehearsed team: two guys held her down and pulled her legs apart, while the third guy would get to “play” with her… and even though he obviously had some “play time” already today, his cock was rock hard. Taking tons of Viagra before playing “Arena of Death” was a given. Now it was time to make use of the constantly erect cocks… The three men took turns raping Sophie’s petite body over and over again. Unfortunately they had only 17 minutes left to play with her, until this round of the game was over. They tried to make the most of it… penetrating her in every imaginable way in the most violent ways possible. In the beginning Sophie was terrified and the thought of being about to get killed kept her from enjoying the rough fuck. But after 10 minutes of violent penetration her body reacted in the only way possible: She gave in to the brutal treatment… eager to spread her legs, open her mouth, pulling apart her ass cheeks in order to receive the ultra violent penetration and insemination that would give her another couple of painful orgasms.

In the minute before the end of the game, two of the men bound her legs backwards to her arms. Then they lifted her up, while the third man was holding her sniper rifle upright on the ground. As she saw the upright rifle beneath her open legs, she knew it was time to die now. Slowly the lowered her over the tip of the muzzle and inserted it between her cum dripping pussy lips… then they slowly lowered her down so that the rifle would impale her abused vagina. The pain as the tip of the muzzle crushed through her cervix was breath taking… she couldn’t even scream… They played with her body by moving her up and down…. practically fucking her on the upright rifle… and only 10 seconds before the end of the game the guy holding the rifle pulled the trigger… The bullets tearing through Sophies body and exiting through her beck didn’t kill her instantly…. He had to fire 8 more painful shots until everything went black around her…

The END