Atawna

Adventures in the Lost World

Episode 1

Atawna and the Lost World

Chapter 16 Interrogation

Lin Yao sat close to Chara. They were far above the ground in one of the aerial nests that the two jungle girls were so adept at building. A few trees away Atawna and James were in another of the nests. The four of them no longer spent the nights together anymore, instead Atawna and James spent the nights together. Sometimes when they were very loud Lin Yao could hear them. It didn’t seem to bother Chara, but Lin Yao found it embarrassing. She was experiencing one of those moments now.

“James and Atawna mating,” Chara pointed out brightly.

Lin Yao blushed even more deeply. It was strange how it still affected her. She was no longer an innocent virgin, but she still found certain aspects of human relations embarrassing. Perhaps it was because it was her brother that was involved. Sisters were not supposed to be around when that sort of thing happened.

“Mating,” Chara repeated.

“Yes,” Lin Yao nodded. She tried to change the subject. “Do you have any fruit left.?” She wasn’t really hungry, she just wanted to get Chara’s mind off her sister and James. The girl seemed to find the amorous activities of her sister endlessly fascinating.

Chara reached into her bag and pulled out some exotic fruit. Lin Yao had no idea what it was called, but she knew that it was delicious. Perhaps tomorrow she would ask Chara to show her where she had gotten it from.

Two trees away Atawna arched her back as James moved within her. She and James had made love every night since the first time. It was something that neither of them ever got enough of. James was a wonderful mate, gentle and tireless in the performance of his duty. She especially liked it when he sucked her nipples while bringing her to climax. She was very close now as was her lover. James shifted his powerful body and placed his hands in the small of her back, lifting her as he buried himself deep inside her. With a groan he released his seed into her fertile womb. Atawna gasped. She felt something. Then her vagina contracted as she too reached sexual release.

Exhausted, they lay in each other’s arms, blissfully aware of the beating of the other’s heart. This time Atawna was aware of something else. Deep within her uterus a seed had been planted. She was carrying James’ child. She sighed slowly, letting the air flow out of her lungs. She was happy beyond imagining, but she would not tell him yet. It was best to wait a day or so to make certain. Soon, her body would let her know whether a child ripened within her.

Featherstone and Vishinsky sorted through the British adventurer’s belongings. They had thought that just by chance they might find what they were looking for in her personal possessions, but so far they had not found a thing worthwhile.

Vishinsky picked up the heavy gold locket that she had been wearing when he stripped her. It was quite large and ornate and had definite possibilities. He flicked the catch and popped it open. Inside was a picture of three children. No doubt members of Miss Court’s family. “Slut,” he thought. “Three children and she didn’t even have a husband.” She was nothing but a whore masquerading as a woman of the world.

“Sentimental junk,” he said, tossing the locket into a pile of other personal items. “We’ll find nothing here. Tomorrow we start work on both of them. Sooner or later they will tell us what they know.”

“Agreed,” said Featherstone. He was looking forward to it. Making Larra Court scream was something her always enjoyed. And there was also the questioning of the Indian girl and the African beauty. If they were anything like Miss Gallant they would be well worth the investment in energy. He allowed himself a wistful smile. Sooner or later he would drag the secret of Miss Court’s youth out of her, but before he did he planned to enjoy himself.

Melissa was desperate for water. After raping her, Featherstone had left her bound on the bed, her body arched by hogtying her wrists to her ankles. Her torn left breast hurt terribly although it had stopped bleeding, but little had been done to keep the flies away from her. They covered her body, drinking her sweat, trying to crawl into her eyes, nose, mouth, and ears, and no doubt laying their eggs in her wound.

She tried to move and moaned at the pain it caused. Her hands were badly swollen from the tightness of the ropes about her wrists and her body ached, especially in those parts of her body Featherstone had targeted. “Featherstone, you stupid bastard,” she thought. “How are you going to torture me if I die?”

As if to answer her question the tent flap was pulled aside and the two young Russian women she had seen earlier entered. They were both quite attractive, but that was not what Melissa noticed about them. It was what they were carrying that interested her.

The dark-haired girl lifted her into a sitting position and the petite blonde held the canteen to her lips. “Peet,” the girl said softly.

Melissa gulped down the water, trying not to spill any of the precious liquid. “Thank you,” she gasped.

The girl said something else in Russian, but Melissa did not have Larra’s gift for languages. She nodded and accepted another drink.

The water helped to revive her somewhat, but she felt very weak. She knew that torture awaited her and wondered if she would be able to stand up to it. Already Featherstone’s technique of brutality and sexual molestation was beginning to break her down. How long would she last once he started on her?

The girls tried to shoo the flies away from her naked body. With one of the young women still holding her in a sitting position the other took a damp cloth, and spilling some of the water onto it, began to wipe off her body. The simple bath felt deliciously cool. In spite of her battered physical condition, the sensation of the cool cloth on her body was almost erotic. Melissa closed her eyes and let the dark-haired girl hold her.

“Enjoying yourself, Miss Gallant?” Featherstone’s voice jerked her awake. The two Russian girls stared nervously at the tall disfigured spectre in the doorway of the tent. “You’ve lounged around long enough. It’s time to get serious.” He turned slightly and said something in Russian. Immediately, two men entered the tent. Quickly they untied Melissa’s ankles and hauled her to her feet.

Melissa tried to be strong, but her legs buckled beneath her. She had been tied so long that her feet were numb and she could not stand. That mattered very little to her Russian captors, however. Grabbing her under the arms they dragged her from the tent, her naked feet trailing in the dust. Her heart pounded as she was hauled through the camp toward the trees. What awaited her there she had no idea, but she was certain that it would be up to Featherstone’s brutal standards. “Give me strength,” she thought. “Give me strength.”

Larra’s chest heaved as she watched Vishinsky pull up his pants. His eyes remained on her all of the time, taking in her helpless body. “Now you English whore,” he said as he pulled on his shirt, “it is time to join your friend.”

Larra had little time to wonder what friend he was referring to. Two men came into the tent and used the staff behind her back to pull her to her feet. Her legs were no longer tied, but she was in no position to use them. Tightly held on either side, she was forced to go where the two Russians took her. They guided her toward the forest, marching her much faster than she cared to go. The workout she had received from Vishinsky had left her sore and bruised. But her mind was quickly diverted from her own discomfort when she reached the edge of the camp.

Melissa was there. Her tall exquisitely proportioned friend was staked out on the ground, her back arched over an eight inch diameter log. Her legs were spread and secured by a couple of stakes that had been driven into the ground, and her arms were stretched over her head and secured by a rope that led off toward the trees.

But it was not Melissa’s position that Larra found most disturbing. It was the condition of her body. A large festering wound in her left breast oozed blood, and her thighs were badly bruised as was her face. Featherstone stood beside her, a sardonic grin on his face. Larra had to fight hard to control her rage, knowing that it would simply give the vicious English traitor more pleasure. She was also acutely aware of her own highly vulnerable and naked condition. It was difficult to bristle with righteous indignation when being dragged before her captor bound and helpless.

“Ah Miss Court. So good of you to join us,” Featherstone sneered. “Now we can begin.”

Larra was walked to a position just in front of Melissa. No doubt Featherstone wanted her companion to be able to see what he was going to do to her. She wondered what he had planned. He had a preference for flogging and she had been the recipient of that fetish on several occasions. Dangling from a branch over her head was a length of rope that was no doubt to be used to bind her. The setting seemed all too familiar.

Featherstone approached her with a length of rope, but he was taking no chances. Before he got within range of her beautiful but dangerous legs, one of the Russians tied each of her ankles to stakes set of either side of her. It left her with her legs slightly spread and unable to use them in any way to defend or attack. Only then did Featherstone step close to her.

“I assume you are familiar with Japanese rope bondage, Miss Court,” Featherstone leered. It seems something that someone of your mongrel heritage would enjoy.”

Larra did not reply. In spite of the fact that she had fought against the Japanese in the war, and had suffered personal injury and humiliation at their hands, she was proud of her Japanese heritage. Japanese rope bondage, however, was something that she found both painful and degrading. It had been her misfortune to experience its full impact as a prisoner of the Japanese and had no wish to repeat the experience. Featherstone, however, was not about to give her any choice in the matter.

Larra fought to hold back a grimace as Featherstone tightened the first knot. Ropes crisscrossed her breasts in a sort of hemp brassiere. Featherstone was now drawing tight a loop that had been wound about her left breast, constricting it tightly and causing it to bulge out like a balloon. The coarse rope was already causing her considerable pain, but she knew that it would get worse as the circulation of blood in her breast was restricted by the rope.

Featherstone grinned as he used his hook and good hand to tighten the rope. Then he proceeded to bind Larra’s other breast in the same manner. “This should make you feel right at home you Jap half-breed,” he sneered. Larra winced, no longer able to remain expressionless as her breasts were painfully bound, but Featherstone was just getting started.

He pulled down the length of rope that hung over her head and attached it to the rope halter he had made for her breasts. With sudden apprehension Larra saw what Featherstone intended to do. Fear of the pain to come welled up within her, but she was powerless to prevent what he was going to do.

“Now, you Eurasian whore, the fun begins,” Featherstone chortled as he walked to the other end of the rope he had tied between her breasts. Larra saw that the rope went from her breasts to a branch over her head and then parallel to the ground to a second branch before descending. The end of the rope stopped about four feet above the ground where it was attached to a large wicker basket. Beside the basket was a large pile of stones. The English traitor picked up one of the stones and set it into the basket. Immediately Larra felt the tension of the ropes binding her breasts increase as the weight of the basket pulled them upward.

Larra took a deep breath. She would need all of her strength and courage to survive this. Featherstone added another stone and then another. Slowly the basket descended lifting her swollen breasts still higher. Larra fought down the urge to scream. She must not break. If she did it wouldn’t take long for Featherstone to get everything out of her and she needed to set an example of strength for Melissa. A few feet away, a groan escaped her friend’s lips as she too underwent her own painful ordeal.

Melissa was slowly being pulled apart. She had watched in horror as Featherstone had bound Larra, but had said nothing. She was too busy concentrating on what Vishinsky was doing to her. Her long supple body was stretched tightly across the log. Unable to move she could only endure as Vishinsky turned a crude winch. The ropes from her wrists ran to the winch, which was nothing more than a log that Vishinsky had fixed between two tree trunks. Using a short length of wood as a lever, he slowly tightened the ropes, pulling her body taut and then slowly separating her shoulder joints. Already in considerable pain, Melissa could not bite back a groan.

“Now,” said Featherstone, addressing both helpless women. “I want some information. I know about the Eye of Thoth. I know it has the power to heal and create eternal youth. Both of you are proof of that. I intend to have it. Sooner or later you will tell me what I want to know. It is only a matter of time until one or the other of you breaks. You can endure hours of pain or just tell me now.”

“Go to hell,” Larra muttered between clenched teeth. “I don’t know what you are talking about and wouldn’t tell you even if I did.”

“Uncooperative to the end,” Featherstone said, running his hands over Larra’s painfully swollen breasts. “Perhaps Miss Gallant might be a little more forthcoming.”

“Leave her alone,” Larra gasped. “You’ve brutalized her enough.”

“Not enough to earn your cooperation, however,” Featherstone replied. “Let’s see if we can’t do something to make her more cooperative.” He nodded to Vishinsky, who returned his look with a grin. Without waiting for further orders the huge Russian began to bind Melissa’s breasts.

“Aagghh!” Melissa cried as Vishinsky cruelly cinched the rope around her injured left breast. Almost immediately a trickle of blood began to flow from the half-healed wound. Ignoring her pain, Vishinsky went about the business of binding her breasts crossing the ropes over and around her upper torso until both of her splendid mammary glands bulged with the pressure of the rope bondage. Then he attached a rope between her breasts identically to the way that Larra had been bound. At the other end of the rope was another basket, which Vishinsky slowly began to fill with rocks. Gradually the rope tightened, lifting Melissa’s body until it was suspended by her breasts alone. She was painfully arched, her wrists and ankles anchoring her at either end, and her roped breasts pulling her body toward the treetops. An agonized scream burst from her lips as excruciating pain ripped through her body.

“Let her go, Featherstone,” Larra implored. “I’ll do anything you want.”

“You are such a whore, Miss Court,” Featherstone replied. “I have heard that promise before and taken advantage of it, but today all I want from you is pain.” He added another three rocks to Larra’s basket, lifting her feet clear of the ground and suspending her from her breasts. Larra’s scream of pain joined that of her companion.

Sweat streaked Lisha’s tall, graceful body. She had been struggling with her bonds for over an hour, ever since the Russian who hade been watching her had left. There was still another Russian outside the tent, but he was not watching her too closely. He was apparently distracted by the terrible screams coming from Larra and Melissa. It didn’t seem to matter much, however. The ropes that bound her were very skillfully tied and her struggles simply seemed to make them tighter.

She was half-naked, her shirt having been stripped from her body before she was tied up. It didn’t really matter to her; the Lost World culture from which she had originated regarded nudity as the norm. The fixation with wearing clothing had always puzzled her, but she went along with it for the sake of her companions.

She tensed her muscles, straining at the ropes until blood ran from her tethered wrists. There! She could feel the ropes slip a bit. Just a little bit more…

A movement at the door to the tent caught her attention. Two Russians were standing there. They looked at her and then looked toward the source of the screams. Then they said something Lisha did not understand and came into the tent. Taking her under the arms they dragged her through the doorway and toward the heavy forest on the side of the camp away from where Larra and Melissa were being tortured. Lisha struggled helplessly. Inside a chill of fear twisted her stomach. She had no doubt why she was being dragged from the camp. The animal grins of the faces of her abductors told it all.

Filipp and Vadim hurriedly dragged the defenceless black woman toward a secluded place at the edge of the forest. It was near the river and the sound of the rushing water would mask her screams. They were devoted communists, but ideological loyalty had its limits. Why should Vishinsky and Featherstone have all the fun? They had been without a woman for just as long as either of their superiors, and they intended to remedy the situation as quickly as possible. They were not particularly concerned about being caught. They were Featherstone’s men and they had found their leader to be rather lenient when it came to matters of the flesh. The man hated women. They doubted that they would be punished for having a little fun.

They hauled their prize into a space between two large boulders. There was a large flat rock there and it seemed perfect for stretching out their victim and enjoying her to the full. She was a magnificent animal; taller than either of them with large full breasts tipped with coal black nipples. Her dark skin glistened with sweat and she struggled feebly to escape as they lay her on the flat stone.

“I’ll go first,” Filipp said. “It was my idea.”

Vadim nodded. “Just don’t take too long. I want a decent shot at that black cunt too.”

“Don’t worry,” grinned Filipp. “You’ll get a turn. Help hold her still while I take off her pants.”

The powerfully muscled woman began to thrash frantically as Filipp began to unbuckle her belt, but Vadim had a good hold on her, his hands clamped over her soft rounded breasts. The woman became frantic as he untied her legs and began to pull down her trousers, muffled grunts and cries coming from under her gag. She was fighting with everything she had and it took all of Filipp’s strength to hold her even with Vadim’s help.

“A real lioness this one,” Filipp grinned. “Just imagine what she’s going to be like when I fuck her.”

He sat on her legs to remove her boots, and then peeled off her trousers. Her almost naked body gleamed in the sunlight, wet with sweat and heaving from exertions. Quickly, Filipp dropped his pants. He was hard and ready, but before he started he wanted to hear his victim beg for mercy. He removed her gag.

The beautiful African spat in his face.

“Bitch,” said Filipp. He struck her with his closed fist, catching her square on the jaw. Then opening his hand he slapped her hard once, twice, a half dozen times. For a few seconds her struggles stopped. Moving between her powerful legs he spread her wide and entered her.

“Aaaahhh!” The dark-skinned beauty screamed in rage and pain, twisting her body violently. She was like a wild animal and it took the combined strength of both men to hold her.

Filipp had never experienced anything like it in his life. The woman bucked beneath him like a colt. He thrust into her, enjoying her warm depths as she writhed beneath him. Vadim clamped her heaving breasts, helping to hold her and mauling her at the same time. His fingers dug into her quivering flesh bruising the magnificent mounds. The magnificent woman, however, never gave up. Battling hard she fought until Filipp was through with her. Only when the Russian thug pulled his dripping phallus from her body did she cease her struggles and lie quiescent, her panting body quivering from exertion.

“Now me,” Vadim said. “Turn her over.”

Lisha grunted in dismay as she was flipped onto her belly. Her captors arranged her so that she was pressed face-down onto the large boulder. Cursing, she swore at them in Ullabomban and then in English. The two men laughed as Vadim climbed between her thighs from behind. In this position she was even more helpless. She screamed in anger, her body writhing in a frenzied attempt to escape. And then Vadim drove into her, sinking his shaft into her slick vulva. He drove in hard, taking advantage of the fact that her vagina was now partly lubricated from Filipp’s rape.

Vadim grunted like a pig as he took her. He drove in and out of her for several minutes before withdrawing. “I want something a bit more challenging,” he announced.

Shifting his target he thrust hard at the tiny bud marking Lisha’s anus.

“Aaahhh!” Lisha screamed. She was being ripped open, her tight sphincter resisting Vadim’s penetration, but the weight and power of the man forcing him into her.

“Ah,” crowed Vadim. “So much better. She is almost painfully tight.”

Filipp circled in front of the plunging woman. Her back was arched, her breasts almost lifting clear of the stone in her attempt to escape. Her mouth was open as she panted for air. She was too much to resist. Seizing her long silken hair, he wrenched her head back and thrust his once more erect phallus into her mouth.

“Aaahh! You bitch!” Filipp screamed in pain and rage as Lisha bit off the end of his penis. Blood spurted from the injured member and he clamped his hand around it while hopping up and down in agony. Fortunately for him, Lisha’s teeth had claimed only the tip of his organ, but the pain was still excruciating.

“God damned nigger bitch,” he screamed. “I’ll kill her.” Making his way painfully to the rock he delivered a kick to Lisha’s ribs. Still impaled by Vadim, she was helpless to avoid it.

“Go easy,” Vadim protested. He had no wish to have his fun curtailed. The powerful woman was writhing beneath him, her movements squeezing his manhood. But Filipp was out of control. Picking up a large rock from the banks of the river he raised it over his head. Lisha looked up helplessly as he prepared to crush her skull.

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