The mysterious man has his way with one of his new captives while the other two attempt an escape.
Guerilla - Part 2
by Larry Townsend
Art by Cavelo
Series: Guerilla
View this page with a white background and black text!
Up to this point, the prisoners had not been afforded an opportunity to speak with one another, and the shock of their sudden change in circumstances had produced a stunned dullness of wit in all three. It was Jan who first began to recover his mental equilibrium. The behavior of the Cuban - who was a muscular man, with a solid, stocky build - indicated several things. First, he was probably not quite as sure of himself as he tried to pretend. Otherwise he would not have been so cautious in his handling of the captives. This likely stemmed from his being alone, with no gang hiding in the brush to back him up. Then too, his use of English was quite idiomatic. He had probably been educated in the United States, or at least he must have lived there ... The source of his weapons was Eastern Bloc- not unusual for Cuban backed rebels. Yet, there was something else . . As he stumbled unsteadily up the ramp, naked, bound, roped front and rear to his fellow prisoners, Jan wondered if the Cuban might indeed be something more.
He had heard that the Russians maintained a school outside Moscow - Patrice Lamumba University - where many foreigners were trained. If the man had been educated there he was indeed more dangerous than some run-of-the-mill Castroite. Jan also wondered just how much their captor had seen - or heard - of his exchange with Jim during Peter's trip back to camp after the tools. There had been a couple of remarks, plus this decidedly unconventional bondage...
"You will stop right here," called the Cuban, from his place at the rear of the column. Aubry had reached the outer doorway, and was standing in the entrance to the tunnel. Quickly, the Cuban edged past them in the narrow hall, stooping beside each prisoner to unfasten their belts. His Russian machine gun remained always pointed at the man closest to him, and no one dared make any move to oppose him. Slipping past Aubry, he leaned against the stones and ordered them to work their feet loose from their fallen trousers: "And try not to lose your balance," he added. "If you do, you might also lose something more precious both for yourself and your companions." Again the sneer and the caustic laugh as he watched his captives struggle to free themselves from their last remnants of clothing.
Aubry was also beginning to regain control of his mental processes, his anger and outrage giving way to cooler reason. Their situation was obviously desperate, because the Cuban had as much as said that he intended to kill them. It was also obvious that he intended to indulge in some sadistic amusements before pulling the trigger. As the professor balanced precariously on one foot, struggling to shove his clothing free with the other, he tried to place himself in the Cuban's place. If the man was indeed alone, as he appeared to be, and if he was going to toy with them for any length of time, there was just the bare possibility.... His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a cry from Peter, followed by a gasp of pain from Jan. The kid had lost his balance and fallen against the wall; although he had caught himself, he had thrown a strain on the rope.
Their captor had straightened up at the sound and movement, but there was no evidence of real concern in his response. He merely remained where he was, grinning, amused at the young man's struggle to keep from falling.
"You bastard!" Aubry shouted. "Why the hell are you doing this to us?"
The gunman swung his weapon in a fast, downward arc, slamming the butt into Aubry's balls. The blow staggered the bigger man, forcing him to double over in pain, and tightening the rope between him and Jan. He would have gone onto one knee, but even in the height of agony he was able to recognize the consequences and to restrain himself. Gasping for breath and trying to ease the pain, he remained bent over for several minutes. Finally, as his eyes began to focus again, he forced himself to straighten up, leaning against the wall until his breathing returned to normal.
All three captives were completely naked, now, except for the ropes that bound their wrists and joined them to one another. The Cuban motioned them forward, and Aubry stifled the further protest that he might have made at the prospect of being led barefoot through the jungle. The gunman had gotten several paces ahead, and Jan whispered harshly: "Try to stay as close together as possible." Aubry nodded, and heard a muted sound of agreement from Peter. The more slack in the line, the more leeway should one of them stumble.
Once they were on the ground, the going was not as difficult as Aubry had anticipated. The ground was fairly soft. Although the brush on either side had grown up to obscure it, the path itself was well defined. And their destination was much closer than any of them had expected. Barely ten minutes after entering the jungle they emerged into a wide clearing, where a small stream flowed sluggishly toward the river. The earth beneath their bare feet was cool and moist, and the branches of several large trees formed a dense canopy above their heads.
"He must be by himself," said Jan. The campsite was sparsely equipped, containing only about as much as one man might carry. There did not appear to be anything more than a small bed roll and a canvas rucksack, although the site had apparently been used before, since there was a weathered lean-to off to one side, and a pile of large rocks that might have been the ruins of some ancient peasant's hovel. In the center of the clearing was a small, crudely fashioned fireplace, with smooth river stones set around the edge.
The Cuban went to his rucksack, from which he pulled a small radio. Within moments, he was speaking rapidly into the mouthpiece.
"I wish my Spanish were more fluent," muttered Aubry.
"He's telling them that he's taken us prisoner," Peter whispered, "and he says he's going to take care of everything by this evening, and he'll be starting back tomorrow."
Although Aubry might ordinarily have remarked on his student's unexpected command of Spanish, he was too distressed to make the effort. The ropes were cutting into his wrists, numbing his hands. More frightening to him, his balls felt cold - and equally numb - against his thighs. His fear, in the face of impending death had set his guts churning. An intelligent, resourceful man, used to solving problems as they came along, he had never felt so helpless ... nor so humiliated as he stood in naked bondage, joined by a rope around his genitals to a pair of his students. He watched the Cuban replace his radio into the canvas container, and start back toward them. He had left the Kalisnikov with his other gear, but the automatic was still at his waist.
"You, professor, you will backup to the man behind you," said the Cuban, his fingers resting on the leather holster.
Silently, Aubry obeyed, taking a couple of steps backward until his fingers touched the warmth of Jan's groin. The contact brought an involuntary recall of happier occasions, and an inappropriate rush of sensation surged through his crotch and lower viscera.
"Now, professor, if you will be so kind as to step over the line that connects you with your friend, so that you are face-to-face with him ... Ah, fine. Just stay that way." He stepped past Jan, and went up to Peter. Keeping a wary eye on the two larger men, he worked for several minutes to untie the line from the young man's balls. "You must be patient," he said, "but I am understandably short of rope."
Once Peter was freed from his tether, the Cuban warned him to stay exactly where he was. Holding the end of rope in his hand, he directed the other two men toward a large, overhanging branch. He then drew his knife, causing Jan another moment of uncertainty as the steel caressed his ass, and sliced through the line which had previously connected him to Peter. The Cuban ordered the two men to stand as far apart as their cord would permit, then tied the line he had cut away to the center of the one that stretched between their genitals. Grinning at the consternation he saw in both their faces, he passed his rope over the limb, directly above their heads. Hauling down hard and unexpectedly, he forced the pair of muscular, bearded men to bolt toward one another. As they collided, face-to-face, groin-to-groin, he tied off his line to a second, nearby limb, and stepped back to admire the results of his ingenuity.
Aubry and Jan were pressed tightly together, the German's lips grazing the taller man's chin, his cock pressing into the cleft between the other's upper thighs. He was painfully aware of their cocks' touching, each twisted at the base from the Upward pressure of the ropes that drew both sets of testicles into an awkward, wrenching position. Each man stood on his toes to relive the tension against his balls.
"Beautiful!" sneered the Cuban. "That should keep you snug and secure while I enjoy a little diversion." He sauntered toward Peter, who had remained exactly where he had been left, his face frozen into an expression of complete horror and revulsion as he watched his two companions struggling to keep themselves from being castrated.
At about the same moment that the Cuban seized Peter by the shoulder, and started shoving him toward the leanto, the limb to which he had secured the line holding the other two prisoners snapped free from its entanglement with several other boughs. Although the motion was minimal, and the sound hardly audible to the Cuban, it gave just enough slack to the ropes that Aubry and Jan were able to stand firmly on the ground. Their balls were no longer drawn so sharply upward. Except for being forced to remain in place, their own discomfort was no longer so distracting as to prevent their watching the exchange between their young companion and the Cuban gunman.
As they stood in their naked bondage, hands roped behind their backs, still tethered by their testicles, they saw their captor shove the younger man to his knees, forcing him to kneel with his face a few inches from his mentor's crotch, while the Cuban made a little show of unbuttoning his fly, and reaching inside to manipulate his genitals. Although they could see Peter's face only in profile, the young man's horror and revulsion were evident, the more so when his captor produced a thick, dark, half hardened cock, with a long loose foreskin.
Peter tried to turn his face away, but the Cuban grabbed a handful of hair and forced him to look into the drooping eye of his dick, protruding, now, through the folds of skin, as the powerful shaft started to lengthen. The odor of the man's unwashed body had caused the kneeling, helpless captive to gag at the inevitable prospect Every muscle of his body seemed to tense, and Aubry could see the desperate twisting motions of his hands as the kid struggled frantically to free himself. His slight, surfer's build would have been no match for the larger, older man, even if he had been unbound. In his present circumstances resistance was completely futile.
Maintaining his hold on Peter's hair with one hand, and guiding his gnarled, bloated shaft with the other, the Cuban forced the cockhead against Peter's lips. "Open," he snarled, "and don't let me feel any teeth, or I'll knock them out of your head." He gave another vicious yank at the youngster's hair, and Peter lessened the pressure of his tightly clenched jaw. The great, dark mass of cock slid into him, causing him to retch. But the other's grip - to say nothing of his own fear - held the young man in place until the penetrating column impacted against the back of his throat He struggled, then, trying to accommodate the unwanted invasion, while his entire body rebelled.
Watching in a mixture of emotions he would have been hard-pressed to define, Aubry was suddenly aware of Jan's having moved more tightly against him. Glancing down, he saw that his fellow captive was fully erect, trying to conceal the fact by the close contact of their bodies.
"For Christ's sake, Jan, here we're strung up by our balls, probably about to be murdered by that demented guerrilla, and you're acting like you were an M in a heavy scene!"
"I can't help it," muttered the German. "I don't want to die, but..."
"But if you have to go, what better way?" returned the professor disgustedly. But the firm, warm contact with the other man had started his own juices flowing, and he realized that he was also beginning to respond. He cleared his throat, looking down the length of their bodies. "I suppose it means we ... neither of us, really expects the worst But I don't see how we're going to get out of it, Jan. He has to kill us to make sure we don't blow the whistle on his arms cache, and it looks like he's just going to take his time enjoy himself doing it"
There was a violent groan from Peter, and a muttered curse from the Cuban, that abruptly cut off their conversation. Returning their attention to the others, they saw their young companion bent back painfully as the Cuban straddled his kneeling body, holding his head in both hands as he delivered stroke after stroke into the kid's mouth. "If you try to sink your teeth into me again," growled the assailant, "I'll let you choke on this." He buried himself fully, forcing the captive's face into the black mat of hair that curled out the opening of his fatigues. Peter's head and neck were a deep, beet red, and tears coursed from his eyes as the Cuban demonstrated how easily he might fulfill his threat
While the two prisoners continued to watch, their captor stepped back from his victim, commanding him to hold the cockhead between his lips as the bigger man began to strip off his clothing. He bared his powerfully muscled upper body - dark olive skin covered with a thick mat of hair. He was so solid and stocky that he had appeared heavier and softer in the loose fitting uniform. But as he continued to strip, shoving the camouflage fatigue pants down his muscular shanks, it became apparent ~at he was anything but fat His thighs were a pair of gleaming hirsute trunks, black hair plastered to the skin by sweat Abruptly, he jerked free of Peter's grasp, grabbed the young man's head and pulled him roughly forward, forcing him to tumble full length onto the moist humus.
He glanced across briefly at the two captives, and seemed satisfied to note that they were still in place - standing close together as he had left them. At this point, Peter lifted his head, attempted to shift his position. The Cuban dropped one booted foot upon the back of the other's neck, forcing him prone, against the black soil. He braced his back against the lean-to, and removed his trousers, forcing them off, over his heavy brogues. Peter had apparently had the wind knocked out of him when he fell forward. He lay gasping on the ground, eyes closed and sobbing quietly as he awaited the gunman's further attentions.
It was now close to noon, and heat was rising in visible, steamy clouds from the jungle floor. Both Aubry and Jan were covered with sweat, as was the Cuban when he stooped to pull the shoulder straps off his back pack. When he squatted down to do this, the great dark mass of his genitals hung beneath his hairy thighs. "That bastard's built like a bull," whispered Jan, watching in grudging envy as the gunman took hold of Peter's legs and roughly repositioned him with his feet wide spread, close to the lean-to. Using the straps, he secured the young man's ankles to a pair of uprights, binding his legs into a painfully awkward separation.
Aubry had been watching all of this with avid, mounting interest, almost able to forget his own dilemma as he saw the small, solid rounds of the young man's ass being prepared for the Cuban's assault. He licked his lips and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the motion bringing a fresh reminder of his own bondage. The cord pulled slightly on his balls, and the ache in his arms became suddenly sharper. "He's obviously going to fuck the kid," whispered the professor. "Once he starts rutting, maybe he'll be distracted enough that you could turn and let me work on your wrists."
"It's worth a try," replied Winklemann. "Let's hope he doesn't shoot his load as soon as he gets it in."
They could hear the muted pleas from Peter as the big Cuban knelt between his legs and started to manipulate his cock back to total hardness. The great, evil looking tool gleamed a dark, velvety purple as thick, blunt fingers slid back and forth along its length. The ruby crown kept bursting free of the foreskin, then sinking back out of sight, while a heavy, viscous fluid oozed from the tip, stringing down against the milky white ass.
The Cuban kept one hand on his fully risen cock, idly sliding the loose skin along its substantial bulk. The other hand now began to probe his young victim's backside. At first he seemed to caress the firm, round globes, as if testing the flesh and savoring these moments of prelude. Then he slipped his thumb into the crack and probed for the opening, as Peter visibly tensed in anticipation. In a sudden, quick motion, the Cuban pressed down, driving his digit into the prisoner's anus, causing Peter to cry out and twist his body in a futile attempt to avoid the painful invasion. His mentor merely laughed, and continued to play with his bound, unwilling toy.
"There is no hurry," he muttered hoarsely. "I have been in the jungle for many days, in the company of muchachos who do not understand the special needs a man can feel. I learned this in your country... this use of one man's body by another." Saying this, he withdrew his thumb and used both hands to hold Peter's cheeks apart as he spit into the cleft He started to work the fluid into the hole, using two fingers, then three. The continued penetrations quickly reduced his. victim to a sobbing, incoherent state of frenzy. The tightly bound arms bent and flexed, fingers twisting and grasping at nothing. The handsome, innocent features were contorted, smeared with tears that mingled with the black earth as Peter continued to beg his tormentor to stop, his blubbering pleas interspersed with shrieks of pain each time the Cuban pressed into him.
As Jan and Aubry watched, the gunman positioned his cock against the opening, withdrew his fingers, and pressed down hard against the sphincter. This brought a shattering scream to the victim's lips, followed by a series of pain induced curses. Obviously excited by the agony he was causing, the Cuban braced himself with one arm on each side of his victim, drove his cock deeply into the resisting body, then dropped his full weight on top, crushing the twisted fingers and hard flexed arms beneath him.
Jan's cock was hard and dripping as he pressed against Aubry's hip. He rested his forehead on the taller man's shoulder and closed his eyes. "That little... prick teaser, as you'd call him . . He's certainly getting what he's been afraid to ask for."
"And we're going to get a lot worse, if we don't get loose. See if you can turn enough for me to reach your wrists." He cast a furtive glance in Peter's direction, where the Cuban now rode his ass with a series of slow, driving thrusts that continued to evoke only cries of pain and outrage. He had grasped the young man's loins in both hands, and was pulling Peter more tightly into the curve of his own body. He seemed distracted enough to be completely oblivious to the others' movements.
The rope between them grew taut, and the professor felt his balls pulled painfully upward again, as both men turned, trying to bring their hands into contact Finally, Jan gasped and told him to stop. "We'll never be able to do it," he whispered, "not as long as he's got our balls tied up like this."
"Then let's see if we can untie them first," Aubry suggested. Jan turned back to face the other, while Jim remained with his back more or less toward the German. His fingers groped empty air for a moment, then touched Jan's groin. Another moment of blind searching, and he found the loop of cord around the other's testicles. His fingers, cold and almost numb, made several clumsy attempts to work the knots, before he felt a slight give. Jan was standing on tip toes, trying to give him as much slack as possible, leaning into him for support. The pressure on Aubry's own nuts was almost unbearable, and sharp bolts of pain were shooting up his left side; but he steeled himself to the discomfort, and was finally rewarded by a sudden release as the cord fell free from the German's crotch.
"Now, quickly, turn back-to-back with me. Let's see if I can get your hands free." He worked for several minutes, barely able to move the heavier ropes, sweat coursing down his body and running in stinging rivulets into his eyes. He had continued to cast wary glances at the Cuban, who was now humping at a faster, more desperate pace, obviously close to ejaculation. He felt a fingernail break painfully short, but Jan also grunted encouragement
"You almost have it," he whispered. "There!" The German's hands came free as the ropes slid apart, still wrapped around one wrist when he brought his aching arms to his side, and started to move his hands together in front of him. But at that moment, the Cuban glanced over at them and shouted something in Spanish.
"Run, Jan! Get out of here... fast!" Aubry shouted.
After just a moment's hesitation, the German turned and fled into the brush. Aubry, with his hands still bound behind his back, and joined to his genitals by the rope that passed between his legs, knew that flight - for him was hopeless. The cord which had joined his balls to Jan's was also still in place. Although he might have pulled free, even that was uncertain, and he knew he could never out-distance the Cuban. He held in place, then, watching as the gunman shoved himself up from Peter's back, great dark cock spurting its essence across the others back. Cursing, furious at being interrupted at this moment of ecstasy, the stocky guerrilla staggered to his feet, uncertain for a moment exactly what to do. He was naked, except for his boots, and his first inclination was to grab for his clothes. But that was foolish, he realized. Instead, he merely seized the automatic from its holster.
He was about to start after Jan, when it occurred to him that Aubry was no longer securely anchored. Cursing again at the additional delay, he paused to check the bindings on the professor's wrists, then retied the rope that tethered his prisoner's balls to the overhead limb. Only then did he plunge into the brush in pursuit of the German. In all, it had taken him close to five minutes, and Aubry prayed that it might have been long enough for Jan to make good his escape.
Aubry watched their captor disappear into the dense foliage, then turned his attention to Peter. The kid lay belly down, as the gunman had left him, face on the ground, turned toward the professor. He was covered in grime and flecks of black earth; his eyes closed, as if asleep. On his back and ass the gunman's semen lay cooling in the musty air, one small trickle running down his hip. "Peter," called Aubry, "are you okay? Are you conscious?"
The young man opened his eyes and lifted his head slightly off the ground. "I'm alive," he said, "but I really wish I weren't."
"Don't give up, kid," Aubry urged. "Somehow, we're going to get out of this."
"How?" replied the other. "We're both tied up like no sane man would bind another. You can't move, and neither can I, and... and after what that dirty bastard did to me, I'm not sure I could ever look anyone in the eye again! Look at me! Naked, legs strapped to a couple of poles . . . filthy and stinking from that pig lying on my back and... raping me! Raping me like a fucking woman! I can feel something oozing out of my ass ... probably blood, and his cum's all over my back... And look at you! It makes me sick! You're one of the most respected archaeologists in the world, and he's tied you up like ... like His voice broke, and he started to sob uncontrollably.
"If we just give up, it means he's won," replied Aubry softly. "No matter what's happened to us, we're still the same as we were when we came here. We're still men, regardless, and we've got to fight back any way we can. Otherwise this shithead will never get what he deserves."
"I guess you're right, prof...Jim," Peter replied without lifting his head. "I don't see how we're ever going to get the chance, but when we do... if we do ... Well, I've never wanted to kill anyone before in my life, but this tucking sonofabitch deserves
A shot resounded through the forest, then another. For a moment, the normal jungle background of bird and animal sounds tapered off, then increased as the startled creatures called out in fear, and a flock of skimmers took flight from the river. A pair of light faced monkeys chattered in the branches above Aubry's head, and scampered away through the foliage.
"Jesus, Jim," cried Peter, lifting his head as far as he could. "Do you suppose he's killed Jan?"
"I hope not," replied the professor. "But listen, Peter. He's probably going to be back here in a few minutes. Just remember, any chance you get, grab a weapon and use it. Don't hesitate, and if you get your hands on a gun don't aim to wound him, or disable him. You may only get one chance. Gun, knife, whatever. Aim for the thickest part of his body. Even if Jan or I might get hit, too. Don't let that slow you down. You heard him on that radio. He intends to kill us, and ...well, there's no chance of the Cavalry arriving in the nick of time. If we're going to live, it's up to us."
"I'll do what I can, Jim... if I ever get a chance. I won't hesitate to kill him!"
As they spoke, both men had been testing their bonds, again, but the Cuban had done a professional job of binding them. Aubry even tried chewing on the line that connected his balls to the limb above his head, in the futile hope he might gnaw through it Peter tried to wriggle his feet free of the straps, but this was also useless. For several minutes, they simply remained in their bondage, naked and helpless, waiting for their captor to return - hoping it might be Jan who appeared from the brush, but knowing how unlikely it was.
They heard another series of shots - five or six, in rapid succession, and again the jungle creatures responded in panic. The two prisoners exchange glances, but there was nothing more for them to say. Aubry's legs and back ached, and there were shooting pains up his arms. He kept trying to work his fingers to revive some semblance of circulation, but both thumbs were numb, as was most of his left hand. He was afraid to guess what damage had been done to his genitals. Looking down, his balls still had a nearly normal color, however, and despite himself his cock hung heavily across the line that pulled his testicles upward.
After another long wait, Aubry heard a rustling sound in the underbrush. For just a fleeting moment, he hoped it might be Jan Winklemann. Instead, the Cuban pushed his way through the leaves, his naked body covered with sweat and grime. There were deep scratches on his legs and along the sides of his chest, where branches had snapped against him in his careless pursuit His dark cock and balls flapped against his thighs as he approached. After a quick inspection of his captives' bonds, he went to his pack and replaced the empty clip in his automatic. He pulled the web belt and holster free of his other garments, fastening them around his naked waist as he spoke to the captives.
"Don't hold any hopes for your friend," he told the anxious captives. "I got him, right at the water's edge. He fell into the river, and I made sure that if he wasn't already dead when he went in" He broke off, and looked across at Aubry, a sneering grin on his face. "But you untied him, didn't you, professor? You're more dangerous than I'd thought" He shooed the safety lever off the automatic, and for a moment Aubry thought he was about to shoot.
Instead, the Cuban approached him slowly, thoughtfully, and when he stood in front of the prisoner he placed the muzzle of the gun against Jim's balls. "I think you had better be the next to go," he said. "You're much more dangerous than our little girl, over there."
"I should just leave you where you are; until you can't hold yourself up any more, and see how long you can hang by your cajones before they tear loose. But you're strong enough that maybe you'd last too long. So, I have another idea." As he spoke, he holstered his gun and reached up, working loose the knot on the limb above the professor's head. With the gunman standing this close to him, and with his arms raised, Aubry was treated to the odors which had so revolted Peter. Yet he could not help but experience a twinge of excitement as the warm aura about the other's body seemed to touch him, and he started involuntarily when the Cuban's cock grazed his own.
His captor made no comment on Aubry's responses, simply grinned as he took hold of the line - now freed from the overhead. He stooped to pick up the ropes that had previously bound Jan. Leading his prisoner like a dog on a leash, he paused long enough to pick up his Russian submachine gun. He had already hung the web belt and holster around his waist Still naked, except for these accoutrements and his boots, he led the professor back toward the path they had used on their way from the pyramid. "You'll wait for me, won't you?" he called to Peter.