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From: punchinello@pulperotica.com (Punchinello)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 21 Oct 2002 04:02:05 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} The Virgin Sacrifice (MF, nc, drug) Pulp story!
Date: Mon, 21 Oct 2002 06:10:03 -0400
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The Virgin Sacrifice

The Mazketl Indians of South America were known to still follow the
ancient ways of the Incas and the Aztecs. Mary Elizabeth Austin could
only pray her father the famous explorer would find her in time....


DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. If you are offended by sexually
explicit
material or are under the age of 18, stop reading now. This material
cannot be
reproduced for commercial purposes with the consent of the author.


MORE PULP EROTICA AT http://www.pulperotica.com!

The Virgin Sacrifice

(MF, nc, drug)

By: Punchinello
punchinello@pulperotica.com

Amazon Jungle, 1937

The sound of drums and low chanting filled the temple hill. The jungle
all around was bathed in a dancing mixture of cool blue moonlight and
hot orange firelight. The high priest of the Mazketl Indians came
forth from the great stone temple arrayed in bright feathered robes
and a huge golden headdress, his arms and gaze raised to Ixitotl, the
full-bosomed goddess of the moon.

Slowly, he approached the stone altar and looked down upon the
Mazketl. The drumming and the chanting stopped. The high priest
Tiucuaan unsheathed his golden dagger, edged with razor-sharp flint,
and raised it high for all to see.

"Ixitotl tempua," he announced. Ixitotl hungers.

The crowd murmured with awe and excitement. Ixitotl wanted for a
child; and to bring forth a child, she must first devour a nubile
maiden. Tonight, for the first time in many years, there would be a
human sacrifice. As Tiucuaan began the hallowed ceremony, temple
guards beside the entrance hoisted their spears, turned, and passed
into the mouth of temple.

The Mazketl Indians were an ancient tribe. Their ancestors were kin to
the Aztecs and the Maya. They once enjoyed broad territories and rich
farmland--and fought great wars. But now their numbers had dwindled.
Their great stone temple was overgrown and nearly in ruins. They lived
secret lives in the deep jungle, rarely allowing contact with any
other Indian tribes, and never with the White Men--until this coming
of the full moon.

Mary Elizabeth Austin lay half-unconscious in a dark cell deep within
the temple, dreaming of American jazz music playing on her father's
gramophone. The full moon peeked through a small chink in the ceiling
of the chamber. A ray of blue light fell across her beautiful form
where she had collapsed across a low straw pallet. The young woman's
rugged khaki blouse and skirt were both tattered and worn. Her long
bare legs lay tangled on the stone floor; the Indians had stripped her
of her hiking boots and stockings. At the sound of voices outside the
cell, Mary Elizabeth was roused from her exhausted swoon.

Her eyes fluttered and she drew a ragged breath. Slowly she recalled
where she was, how she had been forcibly marched there, and how she
had been captured that morning when she had wandered away from her
father's camp. Reflexively, she touched her body here and there to
check for injuries but found none. Only the dull ache of her weary
limbs and a gnawing hunger answered her. She brushed back her flowing
blonde hair and gazed at the walls of her stone prison.

The sliver of moonlight had crawled across the floor to illuminate the
lower part of one wall. On it, carvings of priests and priestesses
stood in solemn contemplation of a large-bosomed woman whose belly was
full with child. Mary Elizabeth stared in wonder.

These carvings must tell a story from the culture of these Indians.
What a wealth of archeological and anthropological riches she had
stumbled upon! Her father would be ecstatic--if she ever saw him
again.

Just then the wooden bar on the stone door of the cell was removed and
the door swung open with a quiet grinding of stone against stone. The
door had been carved to fit perfectly in its jamb and was precisely
balanced to swing freely in spite of its enormous weight. Torchlight
spilled into the room as two stocky temple guards entered. Their bare
chests were adorned with bone and gold ornaments, and at their belts
hung heavy stone clubs.

The two brutes wasted no time in snatching up Mary Elizabeth and
pulling her bodily into the narrow corridor. As they did, their
torches threw light briefly on the rest of the wall Mary Elizabeth had
been so fascinated by. There, plainly carved on the hewn stone, was
the tale of the ritual rape and murder of a virgin girl, a sacrifice
of blood to the goddess of the moon.

One Indian guard dragged the terrified girl down the darkened hall
while the other followed with the torches. In a moment, they entered a
large chamber with a low ceiling where three Indian women sat waiting.
One of the women sat beside a low table that held brightly-colored
feathers and beautiful gold bangles. Another, younger and more
beautiful, sat behind, herself adorned with gold bangles, looking
regal and in control. She held a huge leaf like a platter, carrying
fruits of the jungle. The third held a razor-sharp shard of flint.

The guards took positions at the two doorways, one to the cell from
which they had just come and another, Mary Elizabeth presumed, the
exit to the jungle. The Indian women motioned her forward, offering
the fruit. Mary eagerly snapped up the juicy, ripe produce and
devoured it hungrily. She was famished from her ordeal, so the food
was heartily welcome.

"Oh, thank you!" she gushed between bites. The juice ran down her chin
with
embarrassing indelicacy, but she cared only for the sweet flesh of the
strange jungle fruit. In a few minutes she had wolfed down four or
five pieces and wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her blouse like a
child.

Then the Indian women motioned her forward again, and when she
hesitated, rose to take her by the arms. When the third woman raised
her flint knife, Mary Elizabeth cried out and clutched her blouse. But
it was to no avail. The woman deftly sliced at the tough fabric of the
girl's blouse and skirt and, in moments, had the two garments shredded
to rags at her feet. Her beautiful young body, firm and supple for all
her walking in the Amazon jungles, was utterly exposed.

Mary Elizabeth cried out again, saying, "No! No! You mustn't!" She
clutched at her brassiere and panties, pulling away from the steely
grasp of the Indian women. But her pitiful pleas went unheeded. The
brown-skinned woman expertly pulled the fabric away from the skin and
slashed one stroke, then two, then three, and left the sobbing young
thing clutching at rags. Her naked form clothed only in shadows from
the flickering torchlight, Mary Elizabeth cowered in fear and
humiliation. But the ordeal was far from over.

The regal woman came forward and spoke a harsh word. Immediately, the
other two
women seized Mary's bare arms securely. Then they each forced their
one of their legs between hers and pulled Mary's legs apart.
Terrified, the girl whimpered softly, muttering incoherently even to
ears that understood her English tongue.

The regal woman calmed kneeled before her naked prisoner and put her
hand lightly on the bare thigh, just below Mary's golden patch of
hair.

"No!" the screamed. "Oh, God in heaven, no! Don't touch me! Please!"

But again her pleading went unheard. The woman gently stroked the
girl's softest flesh, teasing it open. Mary Elizabeth gasped as the
striking young woman's hand touched her where no hand but her own had
ever ventured, and gasped again as a warmth spread across her flat
belly and sexual juices began to flow. Hot shame burned the girl's
cheeks and spread down to her firm, pointed breasts. She squeezed her
eyes tightly closed and twisted away, but to no use. The regal Indian
woman massaged her young mound with a tender, expert touch, teasing
just enough sexual fluid from it to moisten her finger.

"Don't...please...." the girl begged earnestly. But the elegant woman
pressed her finger inside her sex lips and into her most private
depths. The finger twisted around inside Mary Elizabeth, groping for
some hidden secret. The twisting touched off a sudden wave of hot
emotion in the girl, and fluid gushed over the woman's hand.

The beautiful Indian woman smiled slyly and forced her finger deeper.
Mary let out a gasping cry and begged weakly for mercy. Then the woman
found that secret she was searching for: the firm wall of a virgin's
intact maidenhead.

"Dis ixitla," she declared as she rose to her feet. She is pure.

The other women muttered their satisfaction. Mary did not comprehend
her words, but the meaning was clear. She shrank away again in abject
humiliation--although it could have been worse, she supposed; she
could have proved to be a fallen woman.

The Indian women pulled Mary to the low table and held her stiffly
before it. The first woman raised the feathered headdress with a slow
and deliberate grace and placed on the girl's blonde head. The red,
blue, and green macaw feathers mingled with her beautiful flowing
locks as the headdress was fitted firmly and tied in place. Then the
woman took up the bangled belt and wrapped it around Mary Elizabeth's
narrow waist. Her hot breath raised prickles on Mary's skin as she
leaned close to fasten it securely at the girl's back.

In a moment it was over, and Mary was ushered forth, through the
opposite doorway. The light of the guards' torches was obscured as
they went in front of her. The walked this way--the guards in front,
Mary Elizabeth following, and the Indian women training behind--for
several minutes. They passed small doorways to other chambers, which
raised Mary's curiosity, but the sameness of the place, coupled with
the darkness and the twisting turns soon had Mary swooning with
confusion.

Then the narrow corridor suddenly opened up to the heavens. To Mary,
the sudden
exposure to the night felt as if she had been disrobed again. And
shame at her nakedness again burned in her pretty cheeks.

They were very near the mouth of the temple, and a portion of it here
had collapsed, revealing the night sky in all its glory, crowned by
the pale full moon hanging at its greatest height. The sound of drums
and chanting floated over the remaining walls. Most of the rubble had
been carried away and the jungle overgrowth cut back, but only
recently. Fresh earth covered the stone floor, having encroached along
with the plant life. The temple of the Mazketl was slowly being
reclaimed by the jungle.

The procession plunged into darkness again and proceeded for another
minute or so, Mary guessed, before at last emerging into the jungle
clearing atop the temple hill. The high priest stood before the low
altar, arms raised, chanting in his savage tongue. His long golden
knife gleamed in the firelight.

Suddenly--before even the sight of the whole of the Mazketl tribe
could again raise the color of disgrace in her--Mary saw the purpose
of her capture. Her eyes widened to the size of shilling coins; her
mouth dropped open in terror. A scream caught in her throat, and she
stopped short. But before she could twist away, the Indian women
behind her had snatched her wrists and held her fast. The guards
turned immediately and shoved her back into the shadows of the temple
entrance. Over their broad shoulders, Mary Elizabeth saw the high
priest turn and stride toward them.

Caught in the deadly grip of her captors, Mary struggled weakly. The
high priest approached very closely and surveyed her nearly naked form
with approval. He was a striking savage, bare-chested and muscular,
with the same fine Indian features found on ancient carvings of the
rulers of pre-Columbian Central and South America.

"Dis ixitla," said the regal woman holding Mary's head still. Mary
closed her eyes in modesty and tried to turn away, but the woman's
grip was strong. Her hand was so close about her nose that Mary could
smell the scent of her own sex, which lingered on the woman's fingers.

The high priest nodded his approval and reached into a pouch at his
side. From it came a handful of pale, bluish powder, which he raised
to his nose. He took a long snort of the powder, taking it into his
nostrils. Then he spoke a word, and one of the guards clamped a hand
over Mary's mouth and nose.

She could not breathe.

Mary Elizabeth struggled in terror. Her fate was to be death! She
writhed in the grasp of the Indians, but their limbs were accustomed
to the rigors of the jungle and were much stronger than hers. Just
when she thought she would faint for lack of oxygen, the Indian
released her. She spat out the foul air that had been trapped in her
lungs and heaved another fresh one. But just as she did, the high
priest blew his handful of powder directly into Mary's face, filling
her mouth and nostrils, choking her with the ghastly substance.

It tasted bitter and stung the girl's nose and throat. She tried to
raise her hand to brush it away, but her arms were still held tightly.
In a moment, she began to swoon. The chanting and drumming rose higher
but seemed farther away. Her limbs went numb and her vision blurred.

When her struggling eased, the Indians released their captive. She
weakly brushed the powder off her face and swayed slightly in the
Amazon breeze. When the high priest offered his hand, Mary Elizabeth
took it and allowed him to lead her--like a lamb to slaughter--to the
stone altar.

The beautiful young white girl stood silent beside the high priest
Tiucuaan. Her nakedness before the crowd was now seemingly a natural
condition, with only the faintest leftover sensation of indignity. She
stood straight and tall, as she had been taught, her small breasts
pointing proudly, her hands dangling casually at her sides instead of
self-consciously covering the blonde thatch of womanly curls between
her shapely thighs.

The high priest made a long declaration in his native tongue, half
praise and half prayer to Ixitotl, who had brought this foreign girl
to them for use as a sacrifice. Then he took Mary by the shoulders and
gently pressed her down to sit upon the altar. He turned her about and
lay her down fully on the hard stone. She being several inches taller
than the traditional virgin sacrifice, the girl's slender legs
extended slightly over the end.

The chanting and drumming rose to a new high. Mixed in now were ritual
lamentation from other young virgins. But the quiet, pale, blonde girl
upon the sacrificial altar was oblivious. Her mind was swimming with
visions of tropical birds and golden snakes. Her vision was filled by
the lean and muscular form of the high priest, completing his chanting
prayers and turning to stare deeply into the young girls' large brown
eyes.

The high priest Tiucuaan opened his colorful feathered robe and
removed his loin cloth. Suddenly, his savage manhood was exposed to
the girl before him. It jutted proudly in semi-erection, red and
uncircumcised.

Mary Elizabeth Austin felt the sharp rush of astonishment at the
sight. "No," she protested weakly. The savage meant to have her--to
deflower her by force! This was a fate even worse than death!

But in her muddled mind state, Mary's baser instincts overcame her
breeding, and unconsciously she spread her knees ever so slightly.

Tiucuaan smiled down on her, wide-eyed and panting, the thrill of the
moment obviously mixing with the jungle drug in his blood. He touched
her bare white legs and stroked her firm young thighs. She tried to
raise her hands to cover herself, but she could barely even take hold
of his manly arms. He caressed her flat belly and gently squeezed her
ripe young breasts. The nipples stood out, red and stiff, like his
growing erection.

"Please don't--" she said almost mechanically.

Tiucuaan touched Mary's beautiful face and brushed a strand of blonde
hair away. Then he spread the girl's legs and lowered himself onto
her. The crowd's chanting and drumming rose to a fever pitch. Mary
Elizabeth gasped as the Indian's hardened manhood pressed against her
outer sex lips. She felt the rush of carnal stimulation as a wave of
warmth passing through her. Unbidden, sexual juices began to flow from
her private depths.

The savage man flicked his long tongue at the air over Mary's head.
His wild eyes and intense gaze entranced and frightened her. A wealth
of emotions flooded her clouded mind flushed her body with hot blood.
She pushed against his chest in vain, she cried out feebly to no
avail.

The high priest reached down between Mary's legs and stroked her sex
vigorously, making her gasp and whimper. Then he took his thick
man-spear and guided it into her tender wet flesh. In a blink, he
penetrated her and drove his prick in slowly. For Mary, the terrifying
pain mixed with unspeakable carnal pleasure as her body was pierced
for the first time. She pushed hard against her captor, her cries lost
in the chanting and drumming of the Indian crowd. Tiucuaan snatched
the girl's arms and pinned them down at the wrists with one strong
hand. With the other, he squeezed her tender breasts, larger
and firmer now, engorged with the blood of her sexual awakening.

"No, no! Please!" the slender captive cried, shaking her head and
struggling to free herself from the oppressive weight of the high
priest. But her wriggling only increased the stimulation she felt in
her hot center, aroused in her the very animal instincts she was
fighting against.

Tiucuaan thrust firmly into his pretty prisoner. His muscular frame
slid back and forth against the girl's slender body, each thrust
longer, deeper, and stronger than the last, building to a fervor. The
beautiful maiden gasped suddenly and threw back her head as her
struggles began to counter exactly her invader's thrusts, intensifying
each one, magnifying its pleasure and pain. Her secret hole now gushed
with sexual juices; her body was flooded with fiery sensations she had
never felt before.

Soon, the prim British girl's cries of protest fell to animalistic
groans and growls. Her firm hips thrust hard against Tiucuaan's own,
building to the very fervor he felt. At last, a floodgate opened in
her and carnal ecstasy washed over her, filling her with orgiastic
pleasure she never knew was possible. A great tremor of sexual climax
passed through her and shook her very bones.

"Oh! Oh, yes!" she cried out at last.

The high priest thrust again and again into her, pounding her pussy
mound until at last he exploded in masculine rapture, spewing a
torrent of jism inside the exhausted blonde beneath him. Hit hot come
filled her with such overwhelming lust again that she felt the naked
passion of orgasm wash over her again, setting her on fire from her
hair to her breasts, to her belly, to her thighs, and even to her
slender pink toes.

Tiucuaan released the girl's arms and rolled off her bruised form. He
rose to his feet with his back to the throng and adjusted his robes to
conceal his flagging manhood. Then the girl watched as her violator
turned and raised his golden knife.

Through a thick drug- and lust-soaked haze, Mary Elizabeth heard the
crowd erupt in cheers and praise. The drums pounded out of rhythm in a
demented climax of their own. She opened her eyes to find the tribe
leaping and dancing in wild celebration of her deflowering and
imminent murder. In the shadows of the jungle beyond the crowd, she
saw men and women engaging in inspired imitation of the ceremonial
act, joyfully coupling in the half-light.

But beyond the frenzied crowd and the roaring fires, the terrified
maiden saw a line of flickering torches crawling through the brush.
She gulped air and shook her head, trying to clear her addled mind.
Above her, Tiucuaan raised the knife high above his head, shouting out
pronouncements that themselves seemed to stab into Mary's naked body.

Then, Tiucuaan's chest exploded in bloody burst of human flesh, and a
sharp crack echoed through the clearing. For a moment, he remained
poised above his victim, the muscles in his arms tense and gleaming
with sweat. But, with another burst of blood and skin spewing from his
chest, the high priest fell back hard upon the stony ground behind the
altar.

Mary Elizabeth rose, half-dazed, and screamed in horror.

The crowd of Indians froze in their frenzy, silence falling like a
hammer on the whole tribe.

"Savages!" an Englishman's voice cried.

Mary turned back to the crowd to see a stream of white men pouring
into the clearing, armed with rifles and pistols, followed hotly by
Indians carrying torches. Professor Miles Daniel Austin stood among
them, brandishing a pistol and a sword cane like a demon.

"Father!" screamed Mary Elizabeth hazily. "Oh, Father! Save me!"

The Mazketl fled into the safety of the jungle, scattering like birds
roused by a hunter's shot. The British explorers fired ruthlessly in
all directions, some felling Indians close by while others took aim at
those nearer the hill, to Mary.

Mary rose slowly, dizzily, and took refuge behind the stone altar.
There, she snatched up the golden knife from the fallen high priest.
Sweat rolled down her naked form, mingling with the man jism, cunny
juice, and virgin blood that trickled down her thigh.

When one of the temple guards approached with thoughts of dragging her
away into the jungle, she brandished it at him fiercely. With only a
sideways glance at the approaching Englishmen, he fled in fear with
all the others.

"Mary!" cried an English voice.

The girl turned to see her father and several others rushing up the
hill toward her.
Oblivious to her own nudity now, she rushed to him and embraced him
warmly. He
stabbed his sword cane into the earth and seized her in his arms,
concealing her nakedness from the others.

"By God, I thought I'd lost you!" Professor Austin gushed. Then over
his shoulder, he shouted, "Cover the girl! These bloody savages have
no sense of decency!" One of the men tore off his own shirt and draped
it around her for her modesty.

Though it hardly covered her firm, round posterior at all, Mary
accepted the garment gladly. "Thank God, you came!" she sobbed. "It
was horrible!"

Professor Austin hugged his young daughter close and stroked her
golden hair. "You're safe now, my dear," he said. "I can only thank
God we came in the very nick time. I can't bear to contemplate what
that savage might have done to you, child--perhaps...perhaps a fate
worse than death."

A fate worse than death indeed. Mary tugged at her shirttail out of
modesty, bit her lip, and said nothing. But secretly, she slipped her
hand under the shirttail and pressed one slender finger into her juicy
twat, still feeling the delicious twinge of unbridled lust.


By: Punchinello
punchinello@pulperotica.com

MORE PULP EROTICA AT http://www.pulperotica.com!

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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