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From the command deck of the Ludendorff Larra
watched the ground below her roll by.
For the most part it was unbroken rainforest, however, she was guided
in her search for the city of the Ullabomba by the fact that she knew its
approximate latitude and longitude.
She knew that it could not be far
off. In addition, Grey, acting
as lookout, had spotted a well-marked trail through the dense vegetation
below. Larra had ordered the
pilot to follow the trail.
The number of crewmembers she had kept on board was small, only a half
dozen. Jia Li was keeping a watchful
eye on them. Her skill with firearms
was exemplary and she was armed with a couple of P38 pistols and a Mauser
rifle. So far no crew member
had been unwise enough to challenge her.
It was a makeshift arrangement.
Running a ship the size of the Ludendorff with such a small crew was
difficult, and it was necessary for all three of them to keep a sharp watch
on their unwilling crew. Larra
was hoping that by some huge stroke of luck they might find her missing
companions. The extra three people
would be enough to mount a proper guard.
“Larra!” She turned
her head in the direction of the call.
Grey was pointing to the starboard side of the
zeppelin. Larra trained her
binoculars in the direction Grey
indicated.
Larra’s mouth formed a thin, hard
line. “Move the helm
over,” she ordered Kranmer, who was the reluctant
helmsman. Picking up her rifle
she headed to one of the large observation
windows. Drawing the bolt, she
threw a shell into the chamber and took careful
aim.
The German holding Katie suddenly stiffened.
Nerveless fingers relaxed and
he started to fall. Then
came the sound of the
shot. Stunned the rest of
Diels’ company grabbed for their weapons,
and then a huge shadow fell across them.
Stunned every man, and woman too, looked
skyward. Above them the huge
shape of the Ludendorff caste its shadow
over. Moving at low power, the
giant airship had come upon them
silently. Now it rained death
from above. Another shot sounded
and then another, and each time one of Diels’
men fell.
“Christ,” shouted Diels, “they are shooting at
us! Don’t they know who
we are?” Confused, he could
not understand why an airship marked with the symbol of the swastika should
be shooting at his men.
Finally, it sank in that the Ludendorff was no longer commanded by
friends. “Take cover,”
he shouted, “and return
fire.” Already several more
of his men were down. There
wasn’t much firing coming from the Ludendorff, but whoever was pulling
the trigger was damned accurate.
The Germans scattered into the trees.
Larra and Jia Li, now had difficulty finding targets, but they had
achieved one thing. Steiner,
Amy, and Sir Archibald were able to lead the rest of their party away from
their captors. Katie was too
exhausted from her ordeal to walk, but the others helped her move into the
bush.
By now return fire from the ground was
heavy. The massive dirigible
was only about two hundred feet off the forest floor and at that range no
one could miss such a huge target.
Bullets ripped through the thin fabric and aluminum hull of the
airship. Larra and Jia Li returned
fire, while Grey kept an eye on the crew.
Larra also kept an eye out for her
comrades. At all costs she wanted
to rescue them. Her brief look
through the binoculars had filled her with
rage, It was very clear that
Katie and the girl that was with her had been very badly
used.
However, the thick cover of the rainforest prevented her from telling exactly
where they were. She had spotted
them moving off into the trees and then had lost sight of
them. By now the Ludendorff’s
forward movement had taken it over the clearing where Grey had first spotted
the Germans. She ordered Kranmer
to turn the ship around.
But turning the Ludendorff was a time consuming
business. Its forward momentum
carried the airship on for several hundred yards before it slowly began to
turn. Larra realized that finding
her friends from the air was probably going to be almost impossible, especially
as they were probably trying to get as far away from the Germans as
possible. There seemed only one
solution. She or Grey was going
to have to get to the ground and look for them on
foot. Grey, with his acrobatic
tree-climbing ability was the logical
choice. She turned to her lover
and changed her mind.
“John,” she exclaimed, “are you all
right?” Grey was leaning
against the helm, blood streaming from a wound in his
leg.
“Picked up a flesh wound,” Grey
grunted. “Hurts like Hades,
but not much damage. I’ll
survive.”
Larra handed him her rifle.
“John, I’ve got to get to the
ground. It’s the only way
we are going to find Amy and Katie.
You can’t go until that leg heals a
little.”
Larra had no doubt that Grey would be
alright. They had taken on board
a few gallons of the water from the healing spring that Grey had discovered
deep in the rainforest. A few
drinks would rapidly return him to normal, but it would still take a day
or so until his wound was completely
healed. In the meantime she had
to act.
Grey didn’t argue. Not that
anyone could argue successfully with Larra once her mind was made
up. He knew that Larra had made
the correct choice.
“Fine,” he said.
“We’ll hold the fort
here. I’ll have Kranmer
hold the Ludendorff in position until you
return.”
Moving to the lowest level of the gondola, Larra ordered the crew to toss
out one of the mooring lines. A
few seconds later, she was sliding had over hand down the rope, heading for
the ground two hundred feet below.
Kwana and the nine other warriors in his squad huddled in the shelter of
a forest giant. What he had seen
this day would be forever burned into his
mind. First there had been the
strange white savages that fired bolts of
lightning. He and his squad had
been following them for several days through the forest; ever since the first
encounter where so many of his fellow warriors had been killed by the white
savages’ magical weapons.
The Ullabomba had learned the hard way that the only way to be safe
was to stay out of sight. The
white savages killed any warrior who dared expose himself to their
sight. But Kwana and his fellow
warriors were skilled in forest craft, and had managed to keep the white
savages in sight without being detected.
Then something remarkable had happened.
A large silver-gray cloud had descended to earth and attacked the
savages with the same lightning bolts that they had used against the
Ullabomba. It was something so
unexpected that it filled him with
terror. But the Ullabomba were
brave warriors. It was dishonourable
to run from danger, and so he and his men had stayed and watched.
Then something equally strange
occurred. The silver-gray cloud
had moved directly overhead and then a rope had been lowered from it and
a woman had descended from above.
Hardly able to believe his eyes, he watched as the woman slowly climbed down
the rope. She was white, like
the savages that had thrown lightning at the Ullabomba, and was strangely
dressed. Of course, any sort
of dress was strange to Kwana. He
and the rest of his comrades were almost entirely naked, except for their
weapons and a few ornaments. This
woman, like the other strange white savages wore cloth that covered most
of her body. She also carried
a few strange ornaments, which Kwana supposed were magical in
nature.
She had to be some sort of demon.
But demons he knew, could be
captured. Only last year, the
Ullabomba had captured two of them and sold them into
slavery.
(Read Larra and the Lost
World) Unfortunately, they had not realized until it was too late that
the two strange women they had captured were demons until it was too
late. The demons had escaped
and churned up a slave revolt as they did
so. However, Kwana had learned
that if the demons were captured and properly watched, they could be
tamed. One just had to be careful
never to leave them unguarded.
Kwana determined that if he captured this demon he would be most careful
with her.
And it did not appear that capturing the demon would be all that
difficult. She was almost down
now, lowering herself steadily to within a few feet of where he was
hidden. All he had to do was
wait.
Larra was glad of her splendid physical
condition. It had been a long
climb down the rope. She would
have preferred a shorter climb, but did not think it prudent to have the
Ludendorff go any lower. It was
too inviting a target, and was completely unarmored as Grey had found
out. By the time she reached
the ground, her clothing was soaked
through. Once down she took a
few moments to rest and regain her
bearings. Only at the last instant
did she detect the faint rustle in the vegetation that hinted at
danger.
Her hand went to her pistol, but she was too
late. She froze as she found
herself facing almost a dozen
spearpoints. She had no doubt
that she could take out several of the circle of warriors who faced her,
but she also knew that her own life would almost certainly be
lost. She was surrounded by a
circle of tall black warriors.
Slowly, she dropped her hands to her sides and let them take her
prisoner.
Kwana himself, personally saw to the stripping and binding of the
captive. Without knowledge of
which ornaments might be items of magic, he took no chances, and removed
all of her clothing. Then he
tied her arms tightly behind her back.
Larra cursed her bad luck. Of
all the places to choose, she had to descend into a group of the fiercest
and bravest warriors in all
Kwana prodded Larra with his spearpoint, starting her into
motion. It was best to get the
demon as far away from the strange cloud as quickly as
possible. They moved at a jog
through the dark forest. Kwana
ran directly behind her. He could
not help but notice the fluid movement of her athletic body as she
ran. If she was a demon, she
was also the finest specimen of womanhood he had ever
seen. Watching the flexing of
her shapely buttocks stimulated him into an
erection. He was glad that he
was running so close behind her that the other members of his squad could
not notice his state of arousal.
After a time, Kwana lost his erection.
He took advantage of the change in his state of arousal to move alongside
her. He just had to study
the demon from another
angle. Almost immediately, he
felt his erection return. The
demon’s wrists were tightly bound behind her, arching her back, and
thrusting her magnificent bosom forward.
Each step caused her splendid breasts to bounce most
alluringly. Kwana determined
then and there, that despite the risk, he would he would satisfy his lust
that very evening.
Larra was near collapse. Her
finely muscled body was covered with
sweat. During the forced march
through the rainforest, there had been only two stops for water, and none
for food. The Ullabomba seemed
inexhaustible, and forced her to jog mile after mile through the
forest. Her feet soon became
blistered and bruised, and only the pressure of Kwana’s spearpoint kept
her moving. The tying of her
hands behind her back, made it difficult for her to draw a proper breath,
leaving her gasping for air. And
still the forced march went on and on, until early
evening.
Only then did the Ullabomba stop and set up
camp. Larra had no idea how far
they had traveled in so short a time, but she guessed it was several
miles. It would be most difficult
for Grey or Jia Li to find her.
The tall warrior, who Larra had judged was in charge of the men who had captured
her, saw to her personal needs. He
did not untie her, but he led her to one side of the trail and allowed her
to answer nature’s call.
Having a man watch her perform such personal bodily functions was
embarrassing, but Larra knew she had no
choice. She either had to take
advantage of the opportunity or foul herself later
on. To her further acute
embarrassment, the tall warrior, who she had learned was called Kwana, cleaned
her up after she had finished. Then
he led her back to the camp, and gave her food and
water. Unable to eat or drink
by herself, she was forced to let Kwana feed
her. To her surprise, he did
not stint on the food. He held
food and drink to her lips until she was completely
satisfied. And then, her meal
over, and completely exhausted, Kwana led her over to a rude shelter he had
constructed out of the fronds of a tropical plant and placed her inside
it. To make sure that she did
not escape, a stake was driven into the ground near her head, and a tether
attached to her neck. Too fatigued
to care, Larra lay her head down and was soon
asleep.
She awoke shivering. During the
night the tropical heat had evaporated and the temperature had dropped to
the point where it was actually cool.
It would have been nice to have a blanket to cover her nakedness,
but the Ullabomba had none. Only
the warriors near the fire had any source of
warmth. But it was not the cold
that had awakened her. Someone
had crept into her shelter.
Larra knew immediately who it was.
It had to be the giant warrior,
Kwana. The one who had been so
attentive. She had noticed the
way his eyes swept over her. She
had seen that look in men’s eyes too many times before to mistake
it.
The cold was forgotten as she felt Kwana’s warmth push against
her. Not for an instant did she
considered screaming for help. Who
would have heard her? She certainly
could expect no help from any of the other
warriors.
She half rose as Kwana entered her
shelter. Gently, but firmly,
he pushed her back down, his large hand between her
breasts. Before she could react,
he moved between her thighs and forced her legs
apart.
Larra was helpless to prevent her
violation. All she could do was
to endure the ordeal she faced with as much courage as she could
muster. Even so, she stiffened
as she felt Kwana’s massive erection brush her
thigh. The man was
immense. As big as any man who
had taken her before.
Kwana sensed the demon’s alarm.
It appeared that she was just like any other white woman he had ever
taken. And he had raped white
women before. Many times he had
led raids into the lands of the barbaric Ansmara, a race of white cannibals
who were the mortal enemies of the
Ullabomba. The Ansmara women
were most comely and screamed most satisfactorily when he and his comrades
entertained themselves after a successful
raid. This one seemed no
different. Perhaps he had
overestimated her. One thing
was certain, and that was that she was certainly one of the most beautiful
women he had ever seen. And tonight,
she would be his.
Larra felt Kwana’s hands on her
breasts. The giant African was
gentle at first, content to merely fondle her and tweak her nipples, but
Larra shuddered as the situation reminded her of the terrible ordeal she
had endured during her first trip to
Kwana tightened his grip, trying to get a reaction out of the helpless
woman. He could feel her trembling
body as the soft flesh of her firm breasts squeezed out between his
fingers. He felt her body arch
against him, as he bore down, but other than a slight intake of breath, she
made no sound. Kwana nodded,
impressed. That trick had always
made his victims scream before.
Larra steeled herself as Kwana molested her
body. Once again, she body was
drenched in sweat. The cold was
forgotten as the huge African brutally twisted and savaged her soft
flesh. And then he shifted his
bulk and brought the tip of his penis against her
vulva.
Larra squirmed, as she tried to avoid being penetrated, but she was held
too tightly to escape.
Kwana’s penis entered her tight
cleft. Larra gasped
again. She knew that there was
no chance of escape, but she continued to struggle even as the huge African
slowly moved deeper.
Kwana forced himself two inches into the
demon. Then he simply held his
penis there, delighting in the feel of Larra’s warm flesh clamping the
end of his organ. For a minute
he just lay there, feeling his victim straining against him, listening to
the sound of her frightened breathing.
He could feel the rise and fall of her generous bosom as she pushed
against his chest. Then he decided
it was time to take full possession of
her. Shifting his weight forward,
he impaled her fully
Larra went rigid as the huge member sank deep within
her. She cursed the luck that
always seemed to result in her being the victim of men who were hung like
stallions. Even her lovers were
gifted with phalluses of prodigious size.
But at least they were gentle.
Kwana was anything but. His
massive rod forced her to spread her legs as wide as she could, and she had
to bite her lip to keep from screaming.
Her breath came in grunts and her entire body trembled with the pain
of the rape. Again and again
he rammed into her. The ordeal
seemed endless, but finally, Larra felt the giant warrior spurt inside
her. With a loud groan Kwana
pulled out of the exhausted woman, and just in
time. Larra could barely suppress
a cry as he rolled off her. She
was completely spent, and doubted that she could have endured much
more.
But her relief was short-lived.
Within seconds of Kwana withdrawing from her plundered vagina, she
felt hands all over her body.
Kwana’s men had been awakened by the noise of his rutting, and
eager to emulate him, they dragged the devastated adventuress from the
shelter. Larra struggled feebly
as her legs were wrenched apart.
This time, she could no longer
endure. She screamed with pain
as the next man took her. A few
feet away, Kwana smiled in ruthless
satisfaction. He and his men
would tame the sky demon!
The rape continued throughout the night and into the next
day. Larra lost track of how
many times she was taken. Having
been awake all night entertaining themselves at her expense, Kwana and his
men did not travel at all the next day.
Instead they spent it in rest and further sexual
activity. Eventually, Larra lapsed
into a semi-conscious state. She
no longer knew what was happening to her or where she
was. Instead her entire existence
blurred as she was racked by the pain of being repeatedly
violated.
The next night, mercifully, she was left
alone. Apparently raping a woman
who was barely conscious and incapable of any physical reaction, lost its
appeal after awhile. Larra was
allowed fall into an exhausted sleep, although, she remained under heavy
guard. The next day, after having
recovered enough to drink some water and eat some food, the ordeal of the
forced march continued once again.
Larra lasted only a few hours. Her
bruised and battered body stank of sweat and
sperm. And her vulva and vagina
burned like fire. Only her splendid
conditioning allowed her to move at all.
A lesser woman would not even have been able to stand, much less march
down rough forest trails with her hands bound behind her
back. She finally reached a point
where she could no longer stand, and no amount of prodding with Kwana’s
spearpoint could get her to move.
Shrugging, Kwana ordered two of his men to pick her
up. The giant warriors easily
supported the 140-pound woman between them, half-carrying and half dragging
her through the forest. Larra
hardly noticed her surroundings.
Thus it was that she was only dimly aware of the change in the
trail. Suddenly, the crude forest
path changed into a finely paved road.
They were approaching the Ullabomba capital.
For Larra entering the splendid city should have been an archeological highlight,
but she was oblivious to its splendor.
She did not notice the magnificent temples, impressive palaces and
great public buildings. She also
missed the huge crowds of people that crowded about her as she was dragged
through the streets of the city.
She only became aware of her surroundings when she was thrown
unceremoniously into a stone cell, her fall cushioned by a pile of coarse
straw.
Too beaten and exhausted to care, Larra fell into a fitful
sleep. She could not recall a
time when she had been so beaten and
degraded. Fortunately for her
physical well-being, and state of mind, she was left alone for several days,
giving her a chance to heal and recover from the brutality of her
ordeal.
This new form of treatment puzzled her.
Her captors had brutalized her unmercifully, but once ensconcing her
in her prison, her treatment had improved
dramatically. The food she was
given was quite wholesome. And
her bruises and abrasions had been treated by a middle-aged white woman who
seemed to have some medical skills.
She was even given a robe to place around herself for protection against
the cool of the evening. In a
few days she was feeling very much like her old
self.
The one part of her treatment that had not changed was the precautions taken
against her escape. She was closely
watched at all times, and only one person entered her cell at a
time. When the door was opened
there were always several warriors in attendance to make sure that she did
not have any chance to overwhelm her
guards.
She took advantage of her forced
confinement. As she gained strength,
she attempted to learn something of the language spoken by her captors and
discover a bit more about them.
That the Ullabomba were cruel and ruthless she had experienced
firsthand. But she also knew
that they were a well organized and highly sophisticated people, capable
of great works of art and engineering.
They resembled in many ways, the ancient Romans who had also had those
characteristics.
She found that the language spoken by the Ullabomba was similar to other
African languages she had studied.
With a few days she was speaking it well enough to converse intelligently
with her captors to understand a good deal of what was going
on.
She learned that she regarded as some sort of demon, due to her dramatic
decent from the heavens and the impression that the huge dirigible had made
on the men who had taken her prisoner.
She also discovered that she was the topic of discussion by the High
Council of the Ullabomba, which was trying to determine what to do with
her. Some members wanted her
treated as just another white slave.
If so she would be auctioned off to the highest bidder like all slaves
and placed in sexual servitude on account of her great
beauty. However, others feared
that if she was indeed a demon, then no chances should be taken with her
and that she should be ritually executed and eliminated as a
threat. Neither choice seemed
appealing to the imprisoned archeologist.
An entire week went by. Larra
was now feeling as fit as she possibly could be under the
circumstances. It was difficult
to exercise in the small cell and she was never allowed
outside. In order to keep sharp
and maintain some level of conditioning she had practiced her kata for hours
at a time. Other than that she
had rested and tried to chat with her guards.
Despite their arrogance and cruelty, Larra’s guards seemed quite happy
to supply her with any information that she
sought. Even describing in some
detail what was likely to happen to her if the High Council decided that
she was a witch. Larra shuddered
every time she thought about that description; it would be a brutal and
humiliating experience. However,
she tried not to focus on the negative side of things and instead concentrated
on learning as much about the Ullabomba as she
could. If she ever managed to
escape from them, the knowledge she gained would provide material for a most
interesting book.
Eventually, however, her time came.
She knew the decision of the High Council even before she was
told. The faces of the guards
that came for her were grim. And
they took no chances on having her
escape. She was kept covered
by archers as she was prepared for the ritual
execution.
Two white serving girls entered her cell carrying buckets of cool
water. She was to be ritually
cleansed before being executed. In
the heat of central
Shackles were placed on her wrists and ankles, and she was led from the cell
under heavy guard. She was escorted
to a courtyard outside the prison.
She stood there, blinking in the early morning
light. It was the first time
she had seen the sun in a week. In
front of her was a wheeled platform, sort of like a small
cart. It was unusual, in that
although the Ullabomba knew about the wheel, they tended to rely mainly on
human transport.
On top of the cart was a rectangular wooden framework constructed of heavy
timbers. Large metal eyebolts
had been screwed into the top and bottom of the
frame. Larra noted that they
were at suitable locations for tying a person in place and she was not surprised
when her guards lifted her onto the cart and attached her shackles to the
eyebolts.
She felt more vulnerable than she had ever felt in her life, as she stood
shackled to the frame. Each of
her wrists and ankles was chained to the wooden frame so that her body was
in the shape of an “X.”
All around her were dozens of heavily armed black warriors who were
to escort her to the place of execution.
Where her friends were she had no
idea. She guessed that they most
likely supposed her to be dead. She
was in the heart of a savage civilization and only minutes away from a cruel
death.
The cart began to move. A dozen
warriors pushed and pulled it from the
courtyard. As it rolled into
the main street, Larra was astonished to be greeted by the roar of thousands
of voices. A wide avenue stretched
before her. Lining it was what
appeared to be the entire population of the Ullabomba capital of
Kangwia. She looked over sea
of black faces, all of them chanting for her
death.
No attempt was made by anyone to stop the cart, nor was anything thrown at
her. But the crowd kept up a
ritual chant as the cart moved past them.
“Chianga,
chianga, chianga!”
The Ullabomban word for
“demon.” Larra knew
that it was her death chant.
The cart rolled slowly through the streets for about fifteen
minutes. As it passed the people
lining the street, they closed in behind her, accompanying her death procession
to it final destination.
Now Larra was able to look upon the glory of the great Ullabomban city of
At last the cart reached its destination.
Larra was in the middle of a huge central square, surrounded by impressive
buildings on all sides. She was
encircled by a sea of black faces, stretching away as far as she could
see. Here the first part of her
sentence was to be carried out, the ritual scourging.
A space was cleared around the cart.
Larra’s heart moved into her throat as a powerfully built warrior
approached carrying a multi-braided whip.
It seemed very capable of stripping off her
flesh. Despite her peril, Larra
could not help comparing what was happening to her to events from
history. As the warrior brandished
the whip she was reminded of the way that the Romans often humiliated the
leaders of the people they conquered by whipping them in
public.
The warrior climbed onto the cart.
He was accompanied by an older
man. This was the first Ullabomban
Larra had ever seen who wore anything resembling
clothes. He was still almost
naked, but a long purple robe hung from his shoulders, and a circlet of gold
crowned his head. Larra guessed
that she was looking at the high priest.
The priest raised his hands. To
Larra’s amazement the huge crowd fell silent almost
immediately. The priest then
gave a short ritual speech describing Larra as a “sky demon,” and
one who must suffer ritual punishment if Ullabomban society was to be safe
from the menace she represented. At
the end of the speech, the priest raised his hands
again. The crowd again took up
its chant of
“chianga.”
The priest nodded to the warrior with the whip and stepped off the
cart. The warrior moved right
up to her and placed a strip of leather in Larra’s
mouth. Their eyes met and the
warrior nodded and swung the whip in the air, giving it a sharp crack for
effect. Larra bit down hard on the
leather. The whip whistled through
the air again and this time it came down on Larra’s
back.
“Aahh!” The
pain was excruciating, and the force of the blow so great, that her breath
was driven from her body. She
almost lost the leather strip that was intended to keep her from biting off
her tongue. The warrior examined
the whip. Each strand was now
coated with Larra’s blood and bits of
skin. He ran his fingers down
each strand, cleaning the whip in preparation for the next
stroke.
Swish,
crack!
The whip came down again. A
half dozen more bright red stripes appeared across Larra’s
back. The pain this time was
even greater. She did not know
if she would be able to endure the ritual twelve lashes; one for each phase
of the moon, without fainting.
Swish,
crack!
Larra’s body convulsed
as the beating continued. Each
blow of the lash was worse than the last, as her tortured flesh began to
swell from the brutal beating.
Larra counted each one. Somehow,
she remained conscious.
“Nine…ten…eleven…twelve!”
She slumped in her chains, blood streaming from the open wounds on
her back.
The priest climbed on board the cart again as the warrior who had flogged
her jumped off. Larra spat out
the leather strip and then almost shrieked in pain as the priest applied
a stinging solution to the lesions on her
back. From the smell, she guessed
that it was some sort of solution of vinegar mixed with
herbs. Carefully, the priest
washed out each of the cuts. Larra
wondered why he bothered, since they were only going to kill her anyway,
but she was glad of the delay, painful though it
was. Each remaining second of
her life was precious to her. There
was always the remote possibility of rescue and she would not give up hope
until it was abundantly clear that there was no
hope.
The priest finished his ministrations.
To Larra’s surprise, the cart began to move
again. She had not been told
of this part of the ritual execution.
She wondered what fiendish torture now awaited
her. Still it could not be any
worse than the frightful ordeal that had been promised her at
the
prison.
Larra saw that the cart was being wheeled into a large
building. It rolled past huge
wooden doors and between a row of gigantic statues
that Larra guessed were probably the principle gods of the
Ullabomba. Although it was darker
in the temple than it was outside, there was plenty of light coming through
high arched windows at the top of the
building.
The doors of the temple were closed, shutting out most of the noise of the
crowd. Several priests surrounded
the cart, and to Larra’s further surprise, climbed up and removed the
shackles from her wrists and ankles.
Four priests kept hold of her as they lowered her from the cart, one on each
of her arms and legs. Weakened
as she was by the scourging, there was no chance of
escape.
Larra was puzzled. In her cell
at the prison, the guards had described her execution in intimate
detail. But nowhere had they
mentioned that she was to be taken into any temple and attended to by members
of the priesthood.
The four priests were carrying her face
down. Raising her head, Larra
saw that she was being carried toward what appeared to be a small marble
altar. Her heartbeat
quickened. Was it possible that
the guards had gotten it wrong, and that she was not going
to executed in the horrible manner they had
described? Was she instead going
to be spread across an altar and offered
as some sort of sacrifice to the
gods? She remembered how in her
Mayan Adventure the brutal German
who had raped her had been caught and sacrificed by Mayan
priests. Was she to share a similar
fate?
They had reached the altar. The
priests bent her over the altar, face
down. Then they chained her wrists
to the floor on the far side of the altar and chained her ankles to the other
side, leaving her bent across the altar on her
stomach. A thrill of fear ran
through Larra’s guts.
Instinctively she knew that something was not
right. This was not part of the
ritual execution!
A priest wearing a gold necklace studded with emeralds stood before
her. He was leering at her in
a manner that Larra had seen far too often during her twenty-nine
years. She now understood why
she had been brought into the temple.
The priest spoke to her in Ullabomban.
“Demon, your punishment is not quite
complete. You have suffered the
pain of physical torment. But
to properly destroy your vile soul, you must suffer humiliation of another
sort. The seed of the high priesthood
must be implanted in you to insure that you do not rise from the
dead. This part of your punishment
will take place here.”
“It is not I who am vile, priest,” replied Larra, “but you
who would torture and humiliate a helpless visitor to your
lands. I came with no evil in
my heart toward you. It is the
Ullabomba who have shown evil toward
me.”
“Strange words from a demon, but not unexpected,” sneered the
priest. “You seek to trick
the Ullabomba with clever phrases, but it will not
work.”
Larra opened her mouth to reply, but before she could utter another word,
the priest shoved a wad of cotton into her mouth, effectively gagging
her. He then tied it in place
with a strip of cloth. “We
will hear no more of your lies,” he
said. Then nodding to one of
the priests standing behind Larra he commanded:
“proceed.”
Crack! The
blow to her backside caught Larra completely off
guard. Had she not been gagged
she would have screamed out in pain.
Instead, she gave only a muffled cry.
Turning her head, she was able to see that she had been struck across the
buttocks with a thick bamboo staff.
Even as she watched, the priest who had struck her brought it down
once more.
Crack!
“Mmmpph!”
This beating following
the scourging was more than Larra could
endure. Each blow brought a muffled
cry of pain. Larra counted ten
painful strokes; then she felt the familiar touch of hands on her
backside.
“Mmmmppphh!”
Larra squirmed in agony
as the high priest assaulted the one part of her anatomy that the Ullabomba
had left alone, the tight button of her
anus. Like all of the black warriors
the high priest was well hung. His
enormous phallus hammered into Larra’s tiny sphincter tearing open a
region that was never meant to be a source of sexual
pleasure. Larra screamed beneath
the gag, her muffled shrieks easily heard in the silence of the
temple. The only other sound
was that of the high priest as he grunted his pleasure as Larra’s warm
flesh surrounded and squeezed his massive
phallus.
Tears streamed down the tormented adventuress’s
face. Larra had been in many
horrendous situations before, but never had she felt so helpless and
demeaned. It seemed that any
chance of rescue was out of the question.
She was in the middle of a large city, surrounded by a hostile population,
and undergoing the most brutal physical and sexual
torture. Her situation seemed
hopeless. Somehow, however, she
found the courage to pull herself
together.
“Larra, old girl,” she thought.
“You can’t just give up.
It’s just not your way.
Uunnhhh!” Her features contorted as the high
priest interrupted her thoughts with a particularly painful
thrust. She bit down hard on
the gag, trying to bring herself under
control.
The rape was causing her terrible pain.
That, coupled with the beating her buttocks had received, and the
raw welts on her back from the flogging left her almost too weak to
resist. But somehow, as she had
always done in the past she found some inner reservoir of
strength. She drew on it as the
high priest pounded deep within her.
She could tell from his excited breathing and moans of pleasure that
he was almost finished. The question
was, could she resist the remainder of the
priesthood? There were over a
dozen robed figures watching her
humiliation. Larra was sure that
all of them would take their turn
eventually.
“Oohhh!”
The high priest released
into her. Once more the stink
of semen filled the air as the high priest pulled out of Larra’s ravished
backside. She was
right. Almost immediately, another
priest took his place. This time
there was less pain, Larra’s rectum had been well lubricated by the
high priest. It was still a prolonged
ordeal. She was raped both anally
and vaginally for six hours. At
the end of it Larra was once again barely conscious.
The last priest finished with her.
Rough hands seized her and pulled her too her
feet. She was dragged toward
the cart and once more secured to the wooden
frame. Then the temple doors
opened and she was wheeled into the great square once
again. In the centre of the square
was the device that was to end her life.
Larra shuddered when she saw it.
Her last hours would be horribly painful.
The crowd had not dispersed. A
great shout went up as the humiliated adventuress was rolled forth, hanging
in her chains, her body covered in sweat and semen, and marked by more than
“Chianga,
chianga, chianga!” the
crowd screamed. The cart was
almost to the centre of the square.
It rolled to a halt, and several priests released her from the wooden
frame. Then she was dragged to
her final challenge.
In the centre of the square was a raised platform containing a frame much
like the one on the cart. There
was one exception. In the centre
of the platform, between the uprights was a polished wooden
stake. Held by six men, Larra
did not struggle as she was moved to the
uprights. Chains were attached
to each of her wrists. Then her
body was raised and her legs pulled
apart. Slowly she was lowered
onto the stake.
Her gag had been removed in order that the crowd might enjoy her scrams of
pain and terror, but Larra merely grunted as the point of the stake was forced
into her vagina. Still slick
from her recent violation, the smooth wood of the polished stake entered
her easily, at least for the first three
inches. After that, the stake
widened to impossible dimensions.
Lowering her body much farther would result in a horrible and agonizing
death.
Larra tightened her grip on the chains holding her
arms. By so doing she was able
to keep herself from a brutal death by
impalement. The priests, however,
now secured her ankles. She could
keep herself from being ripped open through the strength of her arms. But
she could not extricate herself from the fiendish device that threatened
an excruciatingly painful death.
The crowd at first screamed its approval and then slowly fell silent, as
Larra, her muscles straining, kept herself from being
impaled. The minutes passed,
and then the multitude began to mutter in amazement as Larra continued to
defy death. But the strain was
beginning to tell.
Larra’s arms shook from the effort of supporting her
body. She had tried to lift herself
enough to pull the stake from her vagina.
Weakened by the brutal ordeal she had been forced to suffer, she knew
that she could not last long, but the priests had gauged her leg length
well. The chains on her ankles
prevented her from escaping the deadly contraption that threatened to split
her open.
Slowly she weakened. And as she
did so, the stake began to move farther and farther into her
body. Already, it was in her
to a depth of five inches. At
its widest the stake was five inches in
diameter. If it was allowed to
penetrate much further, Larra would experience pain similar to that of
childbirth.
She began to whimper. The stake
was now six inches into her.
Straining every muscle, her back arched with the pain and
effort. Sweat poured from her
body, dripping like raindrops onto the
platform. Her breasts, tipped
with drops of sweat swayed as her body shifted in
agony. Sensing her end, the mass
of people nearest the platform began to chant once again.
“Chianga, chianga,
chianga!” The rest
of the crowd picked it up.
With a sob, Larra felt the stake sliding deep within
her. Then she
screamed. It was a shriek of
pain and despair. She had fought
her hardest, but defeat was closing in on
her. She had only enough strength
to hold on for a minute or so longer.
Already the incredible pain of having her vagina widened to a width
of five inches signaled the end of her
resistance.
She made one last effort. It
was her last gasp. Exerting every
muscle, she managed to raise her body almost three
inches. But now she had nothing
left. In a few seconds her strength
would fail her. She would be
fully impaled, and the cruel stake would rip into her vital
organs. She would die screaming
in the most terrible agony. And
her death would not be quick.
Despite the frightening injuries the impalement would cause, it would
still take her hours to die. It
would be a most degrading and horrifying
death. Larra screamed
again. A terrible scream of pain
and hopelessness. Her grip
weakened. Slowly she settled
on to the stake, her own body weight forcing her vagina
open. Terrible pain consumed
her. She did not even hear the
first explosion.
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