The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Jungle Babe — In the Clutches of Cernunnos

Chapter 9: Myst, part 2

Authors Note: Once again, I’d like to thank the eponymous Sable Myst for granting me license to use her characters for these last two chapters; they were a ton of fun and I am grateful for the opportunity. Readers who enjoy my work are encouraged to explore hers further at http://ultrawomanuniverse.blogspot.com.

Dana was in a haze as Sable Myst’s lieutenant, Matt Rian, carried her through the decrepit hallways of the hacienda. Cradled in his arms, with barely enough strength to raise her head, the journey was a confusing whirl of twists and turns, descents through dark staircases, and the steady, ominous sound of Rian’s footfalls echoing down the empty passageways. He carried her weight almost effortlessly, his gait smooth and confident. Her body was still a riot from the intense exposure to Sable’s insidious aphrodisiac, tremors from the orgasm forced upon her still sparking in her sensitized sex, and her mind was a muddled mess as a result.

Despite it all, even in her drugged state Jungle Babe felt the sudden shift in her captor’s demeanor a they finally reached their destination; his footfalls terminated abruptly, and she felt his grip on her shift, betraying a sudden jump in tension. She swiveled her head, struggling to see where they were or what was happening.

When her eyes finally managed to still their drunken lurch long enough to find focus, the sight that greeted them made her gasp in shock.

They had reached a secluded chamber within the sprawling estate, some place deep in its reclaimed cellar ideally suited for a makeshift prison cell. It was here that Sable kept Mrs. McGuiness, the Senator’s kidnapped wife, in forced captivity; and at the moment, the woman was not alone.

The room was terribly dark, illuminated only by a series of flickering candles carelessly scattered atop the few flat surfaces available; a mismatch of tables and chairs, salvaged from other parts of the house, littered the chamber. A pile of mattresses dominated the corner, and it was atop this musty mess that Jungle Babe caught sight of the beleaguered Mrs. McGuiness, and the monstrously proportioned man holding her in his lap.

Dana’s wide eyes could struggled to accept what she was seeing. The woman was totally naked, her pale body marred by scuffs of dust and dirt, and dotted with not a few red welts and darkening bruises. Her long, straight black hair was a mess, cascading in tangled waves around her fair, upper-class features. She sat facing the door to the chamber, perched on the naked thighs of the goon dwarfing her fragile frame. She was splayed against his chest, too exhausted to hold herself up. Enormous, craggy hands gripped her hips, cruelly grinding them into his lap. Shadows mercifully concealed the juncture of their bodies from Dana’s horrified gaze, but the way he was moving her, back and forth, up and down, coupled with the woman’s labored, heavy panting left no room for ambiguity about what he was doing to her.

As Matt’s shadow darkened the doorway, the man’s low, derisive murmurs to his helpless victim suddenly stopped as well, though the forced manipulation of her body did not. From the sudden, precipitous drop in temperature, Jungle Babe almost thought Sable Myst had entered the room, but this chill was different.

This was sheer, undisguised animosity.

“You shouldn’t be down here.” The terse statement made no attempt to disguise the tone of palpable loathing in Matt’s voice. Jungle Babe swiveled her gaze, and saw at once the flinty glare Rian aimed at the ruffian on the bed. The response was a low, throaty chuckle.

“I got bored,” the man rumbled, utterly unabashed at being caught, quite literally, with his pants down, “I thought, why should the boss’s little pet boy scout get all the fun?”

His hands forced a particularly cruel twist of Mrs. McGuiness’ hips, wrenching a weak, stilted cry from the trembling woman.

“Besides,” the goon continued, “This little lady was getting lonely. I wanted to show her what a real man felt like before she got sold off to those limp-dicked Russian pussies. You know, get her properly broken in.”

He chuckled, an ugly, rattling sound. “You’re welcome to have a turn, Matty-boy...but I might have stretched her out a bit...”

“Your orders were to load the fucking trucks,” Matt spat, ignoring the jab, “Not waste your time down here ruining the merchandise. This bitch isn’t going for cheap, and the last thing we need is for the fucking Russians to be pissed because we sold them damaged goods.”

“Fuck the Russians, and fuck you.” the man grunted, bouncing Mrs. McGuiness faster on his lap. His dark eyes finally fell upon the Dana where Matt carried her in his arms, and his thick lips split open to reveal a crooked, toothy sneer. “You can leave her anywhere you like. I’ll get to her next.”

The room spun wildly around Jungle Babe as Matt unceremoniously deposited her on a nearby stack of cots. She tried to sit up, but she still had absolutely no strength. She could only watch in silent horror at the state Mrs. McGuiness found herself in, her gut wrenching almost painfully. Oh god, how long had this been going on? These monsters...the poor woman...!

Matt’s movements suggested the icy calm of a cobra as he rounded on the insubordinate ruffian still blithely fucking on the makeshift bed. Dana couldn’t see his face, but recalled the preternatural calm that preceded the almost explosive violence he unleashed on the henchman upstairs. She barely knew this man, but already she recognized the streak of corrosive fury churning within his studiously stoic appearance.

Something bad was about to happen. Internally she raged against her own wretched helplessness, her inability to act only fueling her dread.

“You have ten seconds to pull up your pants and get the fuck out of here, LaBoune,” he said flatly. The hulking brute on the bed scoffed, making no move to stop at all.

“Or what, shrimp? You going to come over here and finish me up for the little lady?”

There was a sudden blur of movement, accompanied by the resounding click of a hammer being pulled back, and instantly Matt Rian had a sidearm trained on the copulating pair. It was almost unbelievable how fast the man could move.

“Or I blow your balls off, you sack of shit. Ten.”

Maybe it was the gun, or the unflinchingly dry delivery, but something made the man he called LaBoune pause. He stopped gyrating the senator’s wife astride his hips, but did not release her, keeping her whimpering and trembling against his broad chest. She could hear the contempt oozing in his voice.

“You’re bluffing,” he scoffed.

“Nine.”

“No way you’d risk shooting the broad.”

“She’ll wash clean. You, not so much. Seven.”

“Mr. Big shot over here. Needle-dicked lapdog—”

“Six.”

“I’ll KILL YOU,” LaBoune suddenly roared, spittle flying halfway across the room, “I’ll tear off your cock and shove it down your—”

“Five.”

“You FUCK. You little FUCK!”

“Four.”

LaBoune let out a guttural roar of pure, unvarnished rage, and heaved the naked woman off his lap and onto the dusty floor. She barely made a sound when she hit, only spasming and twitching uncontrollably on the ground. LaBoune rose to his feet, and Jungle Babe was shocked by just how tall he truly was. The ceiling in the lower room wasn’t that much higher than Matt’s head, and LaBoune had to stoop to avoid smashing into it. He had to be nearly seven feet tall, and was built like a gorilla...and the thing between his legs...

No human should be built like that. He was huge, gnarled and hideous, and in the flickering candlelight his cock glistened wetly even as it pulsed an angry, frustrated purple. The thought of being subjected to impalement on that thing made Dana cringe.

And yet, at the same time, she felt a twinge of something deep in her sodden pussy as she stared aghast at that engorged member, a hollow ache that made her throat run dry. Could a woman really fit such a wicked thing inside her? It would be torturous, awful...

Movement from the floor attracted her attention; the fallen Mrs. McGuinness seemed like she was trying to get up. But...no, something didn’t look right. She’d managed to raise her self to her knees, but her face and chest remained pressed against the dusty floor, her ass lewdly presented in the air. Then, Dana heard her; she heard her whimpers turn to moans, her panting turn to gasps, and saw with dawning disbelief that the woman’s hands were working furiously between her naked thighs.

“M-more...please, more...” the woman quietly whimpered, a puddle of drool forming at the corner of her mouth. The sight of her eyes manically rolled up in her head, white and fluttering, filled Dana with chilling dismay. The woman had been fucked out of her mind. How long had she been down here? How many times had she been raped? They must have used that drug on her too, Dana reasoned; they wanted to keep her helpless, obediently compliant. It explained why the room didn’t have a door, why there were no restraints anywhere to be seen. They never needed to tie her up; it was plain to see, the woman only had one thing on her mind...and escape wasn’t it.

“Oh god,” Dana thought miserably, “They’re going to do the same thing to me. I’ve got to get out of here!”

Neither of the men seemed to care about Mrs. McGuiness at the moment, or her for that matter. LaBoune was snarling, his nostrils flaring furiously. His bald head seemed disproportionately small atop his chorded, thick neck, and narrow, beady eyes glared balefully at Matt Rian. Sable Myst’s prime lieutenant stood as still as a statue, his weapon trained unflinchingly at the mammoth of a man’s wide chest. For painfully long moments, neither of them budged.

LaBoune’s hands clenched and unclenched in impotent discontent, as if he couldn’t make up his mind whether taking a bullet (or two, or three...) would be worth finally snapping his rival’s neck. Dana could practically see the gears slowly churning beneath his broad brow, but finally, with a string of curses, he unceremoniously heaved up his pants, stuffed himself back in, and slowly stomped out of the room.

The barrel of Rian’s gun tracked his departure, never leaving him for even a second. LaBoune stopped at the door frame, and for the first time since they first arrived, Dana felt his eyes fall upon her where she lay prone on the mass of mattresses. She felt his eyes roam over every inch of her barely clothed form, and a cold shiver raced up her spine. He locked eyes with her, boring into her own with undisguised lust.

“I’ll be back for you later, sweetheart,” he leered, “Count on it.”

With, he stooped through the doorway, and disappeared into the adjoining hall, whistling discordantly as he went. They listened to his heavy footfalls recede into the distance, growing fainter and fainter. At last, there was a wrenching noise as a door was slammed shut, and then there was only silence.

Matt glanced down the hallway, confirming the brute had really made his departure. Only then did he replace his sidearm, muttering something under his breath that Dana couldn’t make out. He noticed her watching him, and flashed her a wry smile.

“Back with us I see? I’ve got to hand it to you, most women get a dosage like the one Sable hit you with and they’re out for hours. Of course, I can’t say I’m completely surprised; a fine female specimen such as yourself would have a hearty constitution.”

He stepped over to the fallen Mrs. McGuinness, still mindlessly masturbating on the dusty floor. He lifted her to her feet, and guided her back to the mattresses in the corner. She moaned something unintelligible as she reached for Matt, trying to pull him close, but he patiently kept her hands at bay as he quickly surveyed her for any serious damage. Finally, apparently satisfied with his inspection, his hand retrieved a small snub-nosed device he gripped almost like a pistol. He pressed the barrel against the woman’s pale thigh, and then there was a brief hiss as mechanism delivered its payload into her bloodstream. At once, her blind flailing fell still, and her eyes unceremoniously shut. She collapsed back on the bed, totally unmoving. Matt checked the pulse at her throat for a count, then rose to his feet, replacing the device in some hidden pocket of his uniform.

“LaBoune is lucky he didn’t cause her any lasting harm,” he remarked idly, coming around to Dana’s makeshift bed and lightly seating himself on the end. “The boss is fiercely protective of her reputation, and we can’t have people crowing that we trade in sub-par materials.” He shrugged, as if discussing human slave trade was the simplest thing in the world, “You have to understand our clients. They tend to be extremely particular.”

“You’re...scum,” Dana hissed, struggling to get the words past her aching throat, “All of you, you’re worthless scum, and I swear if you think you’ll get away with this—”

But Rian wasn’t listening. He was silently and quite eagerly looking her over, letting his eyes linger over each and every luscious curve. Jungle Babe felt herself redden, both with rage and with crushing humiliation, and yet still she could barely move. She glared wordlessly at him, casting daggers with her eyes when it became too difficult to keep talking. For all his false charm and darkly good looks, she felt nothing but utter hatred for this man.

“I should have let the crows peck out your fucking eyes,” Dana fumed, his creeping gaze making her skin break out in goose bumps.

“How many times do you think I’ve heard those exact words? Matt answered coolly. He reached out with a dark gloved hand, and rested it on Dana’s knee. She jerked at the sudden contact, but could only glare uselessly up at him from the bed.

“Get your hands off me!” she snapped, but again he ignored her. His hand began to touch and test the firmness of her thigh, grazing along the supple smoothness of her flesh. She felt herself redden even further.

“You’re hardly the first superheroine who made the unfortunate miscalculation that she could best Sable Myst in a fight,” he explained patiently, almost apologetically. “Sometimes they just flat out lose to her ice powers. More often than not though, Sable just uses them as a set up, just like she did with you. Once the Climax hits...well, it’s all over...”

His hand had been slowly creeping its way up her leg, his leather glove surprisingly soft. No matter how hard she tried, Dana could still barely will any movement out of her intoxicated limbs. She could only stare in growing dismay as Matt’s fingers continued to slide higher and higher, until they were grazing against the flap of her loincloth. He was in absolutely no rush, his touch unhurried and supremely confident.

“D-don’t—don’t you dare!” Dana yelped, as she felt his fingers slip beneath the triangle of pelt, “Don’t...no!!”

His fingers brushed against the front of her panties, tracing the fabric of her thong where it offered the flimsiest of defenses for her naked sex. She winced as her body responded to his invasive touch by suddenly flushing anew in a wave of heat. Her skin seemed to ignite under his touch, the flash of tingling sensation nearly making her gasp.

“It’s the damn drug,” she groaned inwardly, “I can’t believe how s-sensitive I am...!”

She clenched her jaw, resolving not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her react in humiliation. Maybe if she feigned indifference, he’d lose interest and leave her alone, but her paltry hopes were soon dashed when she saw the patient, amused glint in the mercenary’s eyes.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he murmured sympathetically, “Right now, you’re probably devising any number of horrible ways to kill me. Maybe you’re wondering whether I’ll get bored if you just lie there glaring at me. Again, I’ll remind you, you aren’t the first costumed heroine to find herself in this position; I’ve been working for Sable a long time, and one of the perks I get for my loyalty is having first crack at new acquisitions. It’s my job to make sure the new girls understand the rules, so listen up, sweety.”

His fingers continued their methodical manipulation of her panty-covered sex, confidently massaging her rapidly-swelling nether lips with surprising skill. The drug had come between her mind and her body, and her out of control libido didn’t care that she was lying incapacitated in a slaver’s den, or that just a few feet away another woman lay recovering from a mind-warping rape; it just knew that she had a man’s hand between her legs, doing horribly delightful things to her sensitive pussy.

It was getting harder and harder to pretend he wasn’t having an effect on her.

She could feel herself getting wet, could feel the telltale juices leaking treacherously from her squirming sex. The color blossoming hotly on her cheeks burned, making her feel lightheaded and feverish. She found herself becoming increasingly fixated on his deep, penetrating stare, so much so that she had to finally avert here eyes from him. She was afraid of how...hot...they were making her feel.

“You belong to Sable Myst now,” he explained, punctuating the brand by flicking his fingertips over the erect nub of her clit. The sudden jolt of pleasure made her gasp involuntarily, though Dana managed to choke back the moan that almost followed. Mercifully he relented, moving back to idly stroke up and down the increasingly heated lips hidden beneath her narrow panties, but having touched her there once, his fingers didn’t stay away long.

“Who you are, who you used to be, that doesn’t matter anymore. Soon, all you’re going to care about is sex; you’ll dream of sex; beg for sex. You’ll be so addicted, you’ll do anything to get more...” This time, his hand slipped beneath the flimsy fabric of her thong to touch directly against her pussy. She felt him close in on her clit, capturing it once more beneath his stroking fingers. They caressed, and pressed, and before she realized it was happening Jungle Babe felt her hips rock obediently into his dominating touch.

Again he wrenched a gasp from her against her will, and she screwed her eyes shut, shaking her head, trying to dislodge the insidious thoughts he was whispering into her mind. “N-NO! Never! I’ll never give in! I won’t! I...I...” But despite her denial, still her hips continued to thrust against his hand, and all too soon her protests trailed off. Her pussy was dripping, the pleasure from her over sensitized clit making her melt. She couldn’t believe how good he was making her feel, how readily he seemed to know just how to touch her, how to pleasure her, it made her head spin. Again his fingers released her, returning once more to her swollen labia to taunt and tease, only this time things felt different. He was seducing her, goading her with the focused assaults on her clit, making her focus on every stray touch in anticipation that the next one...would...

“AHH!” she cried, when he captured her again, her clit so swollen it felt like it might burst. “S-stop...please!” she begged. She was panting, her nipples forming engorged tents beneath her animal-skin bra. “Please, I can’t—I musn’t...!”

“What you want doesn’t matter anymore,” Matt rasped, “All that matters is what you need.”

Just when she was sure the pressure building inside her was going to crest, Matt’s fingers abandoned her sodden sex, leaving her thrusting against empty air. The throbbing pleasure had scarcely ebbed, even the friction of her soaked panties against her sex nearly enough to set her off, when she felt him take hold of the bottom of her costume, and slide it down her thighs.

“W-wait—no, what...what are you doing?” Dana moaned, blinking blearily down at the mercenary calmly disrobing her. Her panties pulled away from her sex trailing strands of her thick, clear nectar, her naked slit glistening in the flickering candlelight. She struggled to steady her breathing, to slow the too-rapid flutter of her heart, but her body wasn’t listening to her. He met no resistance as he slid her soaked garments off her legs, casting them aside before slipping his hand behind her back to untie the knot of her top. He ignored her breathless protests, pulling her bra away to leave her totally naked on the slaver’s bed.

“You are absolutely beautiful,” he breathed, in genuine awe. “It would be criminal to leave you clothed. I’ve beheld many beautiful women in my life, but you...you are a PRIZE.”

The tone of admiration in his voice made her flush, as much as she hated to admit it; maybe it was the drug (oh god, please let it be the drug!), but some deep part of her was proud to hear him say that. God what was wrong with her, she should be furious, not flattered! He was a monster, a slave trader...he...

He was spreading her thighs.

Dana’s eyes snapped open, staring dazedly down past her heaving chest to see Matt taking hold of her legs behind her knees, and steadily spreading her wide apart. She groaned, shaking her head in helpless dissent even as she felt him move in, felt the rough scratch of the stubble on his cheeks against her inner thighs. And then he kissed her...down there...

“OHH! Ooohhh...god...!” she cried, moaning, “Oh stop....ssstoooop...!”

But he had no intention of stopping. His lips and tongue spread apart her soaked labia, deftly locating the hard button of her sex and laving it with strong, steady strokes. If the pleasure from his fingers had been bad, this was infinitely worse. The heat of his mouth, the supple pressure of his tongue as it slowly circled and flicked over her rigid clit took the smoldering flames of her out of control desire and stoked them into a rage. She arched her back, moaning helplessly as he explored her defenseless cunt. She was beyond the point where she could hope to control the ragged sounds being wrenched from her delicate throat, beyond the point where the humiliation even registered; all she could focus on was his tongue, and the liquid intensity of sensation surging from her sex.

She barely lasted a minute.

The strength of her orgasm took her breath away. She cried out, her hips rising off the bed as he sucked her clit between his lips, flicking it with his tongue and driving her wild. He rode the thrashing of her body, pressing his hands into her thighs to hold her still while his tongue dragged the orgasm out for as long as she could stand. When finally he relented, she was panting raggedly, her whole body tingling in the aftermath of her submission. Her heavy, hooded eyes stared sightlessly up at the shadowy ceiling, her mind utterly devastated. She could barely think, she could scarcely breath.

She had never come that hard before. It was so intense, so horrible...so...amazing...

“Sensitive, are we?” came the throaty chuckle from between her legs, “Didn’t know you could feel like that, did you? But that was just the start. In fact, I think you’re about ready again...”

“W-what?” Dana gasped, staring in wide-eyed disbelief as his head once more descended, and she felt his tongue slide again into her simmering slit. He explored her relentlessly, masterfully dismantling what was left of her defenses. Having already forced one orgasm upon her, he seemed content to leave her clit alone for the time being, focusing instead on the length of her swollen lips, and the quivering opening of her sex. Whatever resistance Jungle Babe still harbored inside her was swiftly swept away by the sensual, skillful assault on her dripping cunt. Her weak protests faded even faster than before, replaced by the soft, sinful moans of a woman at the mercy of her desires. She felt adrift, lost in raging waves of sensations she had never experienced before, her cries of pleasure broken up only by her increasingly pleading whimpers.

“Ohhh, oh stop...don’t...stoooop...” she moaned, arching her back helplessly as once more the pleasure began to mount, “Not there, please, not...nnoohhh....MMmmmnnhhh....!”

He sucked her clit back into the heat of his mouth, circling it, lashing it with his tongue. Her eyes rolled back, a desperate groan her only dissent, and then she felt his fingers press against the opening of her vagina.

One finger, then two, slid effortlessly into her wildly clutching depths. Her pussy accepted them eagerly, clenching around them as the mercenary began to fuck them in and out. Her stomach seized, her breathing rapid and ragged. His began suckling hard on her clit, driving his fingers in faster and faster, and soon she was pleading, begging, but whether it was for him to stop or to NEVER stop even Dana wasn’t sure of anymore. Then the orgasm took her, and she cried out in mindless submission, writhing beneath his devilish attentions.

Once more he dragged it out of her, relenting only when she was sure she was going to pass out. He moved atop her, leaving his fingers buried in her grasping pussy, and waited for her swimming eyes to finally focus on his face.

“Good girl,” he said soothingly, his penetrating stare holding her transfixed, “You were made for this. It feels good to be taken, to be forced to submit. But you’re not satisfied, are you? Your pussy is still dripping; it’s still sucking on my fingers like it wants more. Well? Should I stop, Jungle Babe...or do you want more?”

His words were madness; there was no way she would ever accede to being taken against her will, to be turned into some mindless sextoy at the whims of men like him. But his fingers were moving again, stroking inside her. His thumb rubbed against her clit. They beckoned to her, calling to the wild, insatiable need the Climax drug had poisoned her with, and soon the pleasure began to take its toll. She shook her head, desperate to deny him, to defy his unnerving confidence, but his fingers...her pussy...she couldn’t think...

Sensing her wavering resolve, he smiled wickedly, and suddenly his mouth was against her neck. She moaned, shivering uncontrollably, as he nibbled, kissed, and sucked the will right out of her. Her hips rocked against his hand, her thighs spreading on their own.

It felt like a dream, like a horrible, erotic dream, when she heard her own voice whisper, “Yesss...! Oh yes...more....please...mooooore...!”

“That’s it, slut,” he breathed hotly against her throat, “Let me hear you beg. I don’t think my fingers are going to be enough for you any more. I think you need...this...”

His fingers abandoned her sodden sex, leaving her achingly empty, but a moment later she felt him shift atop her, heard the ominous, metallic sound of a zipper being lowered, and then something hot and hard was laying against her thigh.

She managed to swivel her head down, to force open her heavy eyes, and saw the swollen length of his cock jutting out from his dark uniform. Long, thick, and trailing glistening precum across her pale skin, the sight of it made her groan in helpless desire. She stared in breathless anticipation as he swiveled his hips, pressing his swollen cock head into the folds of her dripping cunt and covering himself in her wetness. By the time he was ready, she was gasping, thrashing beneath him, blindly trying to move her hips so that his cock might slip inside, but she wasn’t the one in control. He grabbed her knees, pushing them up beside her heaving breasts so that she was spread maximally beneath him, and only then, when he had her completely open and vulnerable, did he push inside.

Jungle Babe groaned as he filled her with his throbbing length. His cock dwarfed the sensation of being fucked by his fingers, spreading her wide, plunging in deep. In one thrust, he was fully inside her grasping cunt, stretching her in ways that set off jolts of submissive bliss inside her sex-addled mind. He held himself still for a moment, buried to the hilt, relishing the sensations of her pussy as it pulsed tightly around his cock. He pulled back, slowly dragging himself out of her until only the head of his cock remained inside her suddenly empty cunt, before slamming back in deep.

She came. She couldn’t help it; the shame, the helplessness, the utter eroticism of being held down by a man’s weight as he plundered her needy pussy with his turgid shaft, all conspired to send her tumbling over the edge. She cried out as she convulsed beneath him, her eyes rolling into her head, but his thrusting hips never stopped, never even slowed down. Again and again he drove into her, owning her, using her for his own perverse pleasure as if she were his property...and Dana loved it.

She loved feeling him inside her; loved the way his cock would drive the moans out of her with every dominating thrust; loved the way he bent her completely to his will.

It was the drug, some small, despairing part of her still wailed, it’s messing with your mind, making it impossible to resist him; this isn’t real; this isn’t YOU!

But...was it? Was it the drug making her raise her hips to meet his increasingly desperate thrusts? Was it the drug that made her wrap her legs around him, that pushed his head down so that he could suck on her tingling nipples? Or was he right, and she really was just a slut, begging to be fucked, hungry for sex, for pleasure...for cock?

She didn’t know anymore, and the rapid-fire orgasms exploding inside her made it impossible to think.

He was getting close. She could feel him swelling inside her, could hear his breathing growing tense and labored, and she rocked her hips to hasten his climax. She wanted, needed, to feel him erupt inside her, even as she feared what it would do to her already battered will. She’d belong to him, then; she’d be his willing toy, his eager slave, just like he said. She’d do anything to feel him inside her again, to have him fuck her like this again...but at the last second, with a roar of his own, he pulled free from her grasping pussy, leaving her so open, so empty. She almost sobbed at the loss, but then he was grabbing her hair, pulling her mouth to his cock, and she knew what he wanted.

She opened her lips, mewling obediently as he pushed the glistening head of his cock into her waiting mouth, and began sucking ravenously on him. The taste of her own pussy mingled with the masculine flavor of his swollen cock thrilled her, making her suck even harder. Her tongue caressed his throbbing length as she sought to swallow as much of him as she could. Her hunger, her eagerness, must have caught him by surprise because she heard him groan deeply, and then the first jet of semen spilled into her mouth.

She moaned, swallowing, working him with her mouth to coax as much out of him as she could. He was moaning too now, and for those brief moments the tables were turned; she was the aggressor, he her all-too willing prey, and she glowed with pride at how hard, and how much, she was making him cum.

So much! She could barely keep up, the salty richness of him filling her mouth. Her pussy quivered, and she moaned as the thought of so much cum filling not her mouth but her hot, empty sex almost enough to make her come again.

Finally, he pulled her away from him, and she reluctantly released his still-spurting member from her pouting lips. A final spasm sent a stray strand of semen to smear across her cheek and the corner of her mouth. Her tongue snaked out, as if with a mind of its own, to lick longingly at the spilled seed.

“Good girl,” he breathed, his pants starting to slow. She sighed, staring up at him dazedly, blushing at the compliment...but a second later, she froze.

Perhaps the drug had finally worn off, or perhaps the surge of her orgasms had finally flushed away its lingering effects, but all at once the full perversity of what she’d done came crashing down upon her. She blinked in confusion, staring uncomprehendingly up at the smirking Matt Rian, and then flushed with shame.

“Oh god,” she groaned, a hand flying to her lips, “Oh god what have I done?”

He smiled sympathetically, putting himself away and straightening his uniform. “Don’t be too hard on yourself,” he consoled, “You held out longer than most. In the end though, you’re only human...and it’s just like the old saying goes; the spirit might be willing, but the flesh is weak...and so wonderfully responsive.”

“You BASTARD!” she hissed, tears welling uncontrollably in her eyes as she moved to strike him, but her movements were still slowed, ungainly, and he had no trouble catching her wrist before the blow could reach him.

“Now now, acting like that isn’t going to get you a second date,” he taunted, “and I was just starting to like you.”

“You’re swine!” she snarled, the anger and humiliation almost more than she could bear, “When I get out of here, I swear to God I’m going to feed you to a fucking crocodile, piece by fucking piece!”

“Charming,” he sighed, grabbing hold of both her wrists and pinning them against her chest, “but I can’t leave an alley cat like you down here to cause trouble. We have a deadline to meet.”

“FUCK your deadline,” she snapped, “and fuck—AH!”

She gasped as she felt something sharp prick the outside of her thigh, a brief hiss reaching her ears. She looked down in time to see the stub-nosed hypodermic gun slip back into one of Matt’s side pockets, but a second later the world began rapidly and unstoppably spinning into black. She tried to scream at him, to curse, but the words only left her lips as an airy sigh.

“Sweet dreams, princess,” his distorted face murmured, “We’ll talk again soon.”

It was the last thing she heard before everything went completely dark.

* * *

Something jostled her hard, knocking her awake. Jungle Babe groaned, struggling in disoriented confusion as she tried to sit up. She blinked, wincing painfully as shards of light stabbed through her incredibly sensitive vision. All around her, the sounds of men and equipment rumbling about began to reach her awakening senses. She spun her head about as far as she could, her heart freezing in her chest. Oh god, where was she? Where was the other woman?

Her hands were bound in lengths of thick woven rope, as were her legs at the ankles and knees. A strip of cloth had been pulled across her mouth, gagging her, forcing her to breath through her nose. She was in the back of a truck, a repurposed pickup with a green canvas caravan cover over the bed. She lay on her side, the force of being thrown into the back knocking her awake. A few feet away from her she saw the senator’s wife, Mrs. McGuinness, similarly restrained. The woman was still out cold.

One by one she heard the sound of engines roaring to life, and doors slamming shut. Her blood ran cold.

They were leaving. The slavers had finished their preparations while she’d been unconscious and were now preparing to depart, to rendezvous with whoever their vile clients were and hand over Mrs. McGuiness. As for her, God only knew what they had in store for her.

She had to get loose.

She pulled at the ropes, testing them for any slack, any weakness, but the weave was surprisingly strong and the knots masterfully tight. She could barely move her arms, much less her legs. She began looking around, frantically searching for something she could use; a sharp snag of metal, a shard of glass, anything that might let her cut through the ropes, but the truck was futilely devoid of such chances.

Just then, she heard the sound of someone approach, followed by a flurry of motion as the flap of the caravan was pulled open, and a lithe, silver and blue form vaulted into the back.

Sable Myst looked quickly over her prisoners, making a final check before their departure. When her eyes settled upon Dana and found her awake, her lips curled into a satisfied smile.

“Awake at last?” Sable smirked at her, “Matt told me all about your little tryst. I have to say, he seems quite taken with you.” She approached, dropping to kneel beside Jungle Babe’s bound form. The restrained blonde glared at her angrily, but remained stone silent. Sable shrugged, “I might just let him keep you. He’s due for a bonus after this latest little escapade, and a lovely new toy might be just the thing.”

Her voice dropped to a conspiratory whisper, “Besides, from what I gather, you two seem to have really hit it off. You should be flattered; he can be very picky, that one.”

Jungle Babe felt herself going beet red, and hated herself for it. Sable Myst saw her embarrassment and laughed. “Well, I’ll leave you to stew on that. Try to stay comfortable, we have quite a drive ahead of us, and the roads, where there ARE roads, are absolutely pathetic.”

She rose to leave, pushing the tarp out of the way before glancing back at Jungle Babe over her shoulder. “Someone will be in to chaperone you two shortly. One of my men, Louis LaBoune, was more than happy to volunteer for the role.”

Her eyes narrowed mischievously at the sight of Dana’s wide-eyed panic.

“I’ve cautioned Mr. LaBoune that Mrs. McGuinness is off limits so close to her transfer, but you my dear are under no such auspices. I’m certain you’ll have no trouble...entertaining Mr. LaBoune.”

She waved casually. “Ta.”

And with that she was gone, and the only sound left in the back of the truck was the thundering pulse of Jungle Babe’s racing heart and the strained pant of her breathing.

The thought of that barbarian, that mountain of a man, being in here with her filled her with almost primal terror. He and Rian might both be men for hire, but there was something in LaBoune that spoke of a wretchedness few men could match. Restrained as she was, she’d have absolutely no way of defending herself.

She tried to slow her breathing. She tried to focus, listening, reaching out with her mind. All around her, the wild lurked; surely somewhere there had to be something that could come to her aid. But try as she might, her mind was still horribly muddled, her wildspeak lost in the mental fog. She was mentally gagged just as surely as she was physically. There would be no help there.

She groaned in despair, pulling uselessly at the ropes binding her hands, and finding them just as unyielding as before.

“Maybe this is it,” she thought bleakly, “Maybe after all I’ve done, this is really how it ends.”

She slammed her hands against the truck bed, where they rebounded impotently. She felt the rage burning inside her, and screamed at herself for her stupidity, for her weakness, for her willingness to give up. She had to think. She had to try something—anything—if not for her, then for the woman lying just feet away from her, who was about to be sold off for god only knew what purpose.

She had to—

Just then, the sounds from the gathering train of slavers suddenly shifted. The middling noises of men going about their menial tasks was suddenly replaced by rushing footfalls, and shouts of alarm. Jungle Babe raised her head, craning her neck to try and see anything beyond the flap at the back of the truck, when all of the sudden the rapid-fire scream of a machine gun split the air.

All at once it sounded like hell itself had broken loose outside. The first blast of gunfire was immediately joined by dozens more, as the mercenaries outside opened fire with reckless abandon. Bullet holes perforated the canvas cover above her head, and bullets that sounded like angry wasps lanced dangerously close. She dropped flat, grateful for the raised sides of the truck but knowing full well that the manufactured steel would be no match for automatic ammunition.

What the hell was going on?

There was a flurry of sounds from the truck cab, followed by the sound of the engine kicking to life. The truck had scarcely turned over before the driver heaved it into gear, and they began tearing forward. Jungle Babe shouted through her gag as the sudden motion sent both her and Mrs. McGuinness careening madly in the back of the truck, but the driver only accelerated further.

Sable had left the back flap of the cover untethered, and as the wind of their passage whipped it to and fro wildly, Jungle Babe was able to see something of what was happening outside. They were charging away from the hacienda, passing men and vehicles in a mad dash. Some of the men were running back the way they’d came, rifles brandished in their arms. They passed others attempting to run the opposite direction, and even in the brief flashes Jungle Babe glimpsed she saw the sheer panic in their eyes.

Confusion and terror raced through her, but the sudden shift in events galvanized her back into action. She rolled onto her back, and forced her knees into the space behind her bound hands, bracing them against the ropes around her wrists. She sucked in a deep breath, bracing herself for the pain, and simultaneously pulled with her arms while she pushed out with her legs.

The ropes around her wrists tore into her exposed skin, sending white-hot pain searing down her arms, but she couldn’t stop. She had to break free. If ever she needed her superhuman endurance, it was now.

The truck hit a huge bump, knocking her up and back against the tailgate, and she screamed as something slammed hard into her back. Her arms ached from her attempt, but as soon as she could she forced her knees back in place and tried again.

She pulled until tears filled her eyes and the pain throbbed in her ears. It felt futile; the ropes were just too strong, and she was hurting herself to no gain whatsoever, but just when she was about to give up, she felt something give. There was a sudden snap, as strands of the weave began to tear, and Jungle Babe felt a surge of hope.

She could barely feel her hands anymore, but she redoubled her efforts, pushing as hard as she could. One by one, she felt more strands starting to give way, felt the bindings around her wrists start to slacken—

—and then vehicle hit something massive, something totally unyielding, and the back of the truck was thrown high into the air.

There was a surreal moment where all she perceived was this strange, momentary weightlessness as she and the truck moved languidly through open space...and then they collided with the ground, and once more she was violently thrown aside, this time impacting against the canvas tarp.

The cover tore free from its moorings, but thankfully it seemed to have absorbed the majority of the force of the crash, acting almost like an airbag for her and the still-insensate Mrs. McGuinness. They were hurled away from the vehicle, which had been knocked totally on its side, landing amidst the wreckage of the canvas tarp maybe a dozen feet away. It billowed down around them, almost covering her completely.

Her ears were ringing, and a streak of something warm was running down her forehead and into her left eye, blinding her. The gag had been wrenched loose, freeing her face. She panted in pain, afraid to move but terrified to stay still. Gingerly she tried to raise her head, and was grateful to discover that she hadn’t broken her neck in the crash. She looked around in confusion, trying to see what they’d hit.

They were still in the open fields around the hacienda. The sky was turning a deep purple as world sank into dusk, but in the waning orange light she saw billowing clouds of dust and the hazy, shadowy forms of men lurching about in utter bedlam. The truck she’d been riding in had collided with another vehicle just ahead of them, a jeep that itself had its hood smashed in. But there was no sign of anything that could have caused the crash; there were no rocks, no trees, nothing that could have devastated a vehicle so badly as to cause that much damage, so what—

It was then that she saw it; or rather, her. Through the swirling mass of dust and smoke, a figure charged like a blur of lightning, flashing crimson and gold. It fell upon a group of men, who screamed in panic, and once more the sound of gunfire pierced the air. It only lasted a second though, because the men were suddenly being hurled in three directions at once, arcing through the air as if they weighed nothing at all.

Jungle Babe saw the wind whipping dark, curled tresses as the figure sprang into motion again, this time dispatching a man even as he reached for a fallen rifle. A stunning red boot smashed into the fallen weapon before his hands could reach it, splintering wood and rending metal. He barely managed to scream in protest before she flung him up and away to land distantly in the trees.

Jungle Babe could only stare in silent awe. This wasn’t a human being, this was a goddess; an angry valkyrie come down from heaven itself to inflict righteous wrath upon the world of men. The dust clouds began to settle, and for the first time she saw clearly the brilliant red and blue of her costume, the golden bracers adorning her arms, and immediately she knew.

It was Ms. Americana.

But before Jungle Babe could call out to her, another voice cut through the gathering twilight, one laced with venom and dripping with icy malice.

“Do you have any IDEA how much trouble I went through to organize all this!?” Sable Myst snapped, and Jungle Babe turned her head to see the silver and blue villainess stalking towards them through the debris. Her eyes were fixed on the figure of Ms. Americana, and even from where she lay Jungle Babe could feel the utter loathing in her gaze. The grass at her feet crinkled and cracked, freezing as she stepped across, leaving a trail of white in her wake. “I plan for weeks, spend a fortune securing safe passage, hire a veritable army of useless, simpering fools to put it all in motion, and STILL you arrive! Ten thousand miles from that wretched city and STILL you hound me!”

“If you thought you could run, Sable, you were sadly mistaken,” Ms Americana replied evenly. She returned the villainess’ freezing glare with utter conviction. “Where is the senator’s wife? Hand her over, turn yourself in, and I promise you will be unharmed.”

“How gracious of you,” Sable Myst growled, “You’ll understand, of course, if I politely decline!”

She snapped out her hand, and a blast of glittering frost cut through the air like a lance aimed squarely at Ms. Americana’s chest. Jungle Babe expected her to dodge, and felt her heart jump into her throat when the statuesque amazon did not; instead, she turned into Sable’s attack, and the icy blast connected with her head on.

There was a blinding flash of white and azure as Sable’s attack connected, filling the air with a screaming whine and crystalline crackling, and for a second Jungle Babe feared the worst. A moment later though and her eyes adjusted to the glare, and she saw that at the last second, Ms. Americana had thrown up her arms, crossing her bracers in front of her to absorb the frigid beam. It splashed and splintered against her golden bands, freezing grass and rocks solid where the stray shots connected with the ground, but amazingly nothing seemed to be getting past to Ms. Americana herself.

The snarl on Sable’s face was one of familiar contempt, but not of surprise. Then Ms. Americana took a step forward, and another, walking into the path of the beam.

Recognizing the uselessness of her attack, Sable dropped her arm, and the icy ray dissipated instantly. Curls of thick white vapor smoked off of Ms. Americana’s golden bands, a thin white frost glistening on them in the waning sunlight. She let her arms down easily, the quiet confidence of her stance projecting nothing if not an air of imminent victory. Jungle Babe found herself staring in dumbstruck awe, momentarily forgetting about the frayed ropes still binding her wrists and legs. She’d heard stories about this woman, seen fleeting glimpses of her on the news, but it all paled in comparison to seeing her in person.

She was astounding, almost mythic. Too many people were quick to claim the title of ‘super hero’, whether or not they really deserved it, but this woman left no doubt. She was the real deal.

Even Sable seemed to grudgingly acknowledge the caliber of her opposition; her fingers flexed tensely at her sides, as if she was mentally testing any number of possible attacks, but Ms. Americana had just endured the full brunt of her power and seemed utterly unfazed. It was then that Jungle Babe noticed the sheen of sweat beading on Sable’s forehead, and the way the color seemed to be draining from her face. Moisture was perspiring down the surface of her costume, as her innate cold attracted the dampness in the humid jungle air. Something was amiss, and Ms Americana seemed to notice it too.

“A little warmer down here than you’re used to, isn’t it Sable?” she said, “You’ve been holed up in this jungle for what, about a week now? This heat must be awfully taxing on your delicate disposition.”

“SHUT UP!” Sable screamed, lashing out again. This time, the frost from her hand swirled and gathered as it flew, coalescing into foot-long, wickedly sharp icicles that exploded forward with the force of a shotgun blast. This attack Ms. Americana did dodge, sidestepping swiftly to let the barrage of ice hurtle harmlessly past. Sable was quick to follow, piercing the air with another volley and forcing Ms. Americana to dodge again.

They fell into a deadly dance, with the red-and-blue heroine weaving back and forth, trying to press in while staying one step ahead of the icy villainess’ baleful cascade. The speed at which the two were moving was remarkable, and if Sable Myst was indeed suffering from exposure to the warm climate her ferocity gave no such indication. It was a long moment before Jungle Babe remembered that she was still bound, and that she needed to tear herself away from the riotous battle long enough to tear herself free.

From the direction of the house she could hear the sounds of men shouting and rallying, and of engines revving up. Whatever chaos and disorder Ms. Americana’s unexpected arrival had sown in their ranks had fled, and it wouldn’t be long before their regrouped force came to bear down on them. For all her power and skill, Jungle Babe doubted even Ms. Americana could successfully fight off a legion of mercenaries AND Sable Myst at the same time. She had to get loose.

She tested the coils binding her wrists again, and almost burst with desperate hope when she felt the slack that had never been there before. With the drumbeat of approaching boots spurring her on, she rolled onto her back, planted her knees firmly behind the knot at her wrists, and took a deep breath.

With as much power as she could muster, she forced her muscles to explode into motion, pulling and pushing with all her might. Her wrists, already worn raw from her earlier attempts, screamed in protest, but she persisted. One by one, the chords around her hands began snapping, each release setting off a gush of elation inside her that helped drown out the white-hot pain. At last, with a cry of relief, Jungle Babe felt her arms fly loose, coils of rope falling around her. She wanted to weep, her wrists burned and her hands were numb, but she didn’t have the time for that now. Ms. Americana was closing in on Sable Myst, whose wan features now looked positively ashen. The volleys of ice were coming slower now, the shards fewer and ill-formed. Their battle was coming to a swift close, and both of them could foresee the outcome.

It was then that Jungle Babe saw Sable Myst’s hand reach into a hidden pocket in her short cloak, and retrieve a small, silver cylinder.

The movement was so quick, so practiced and fluid, that had it not been for her fortunate vantage point apart from the battle, Dana was sure she would have missed it entirely. Clearly Ms. Americana had, for the valiant heroine continued her weaving approach, heedless of the danger now clutched in Sable Myst’s gloved hand.

“Oh god no,” Dana muttered to herself, cold realization sinking in. She didn’t know about the canister; Ms. Americana was walking into a trap!

With a curse, she set to work on the bindings at her knees and feet, but her hands were trembling from pain, and she could barely articulate the movement of her fingers enough to challenge the knots. Her eyes kept darting furtively from her task to the dueling women twenty feet away. Her heart slammed in her chest. Every moment seemed to drag on, as her fingers flailed ineffectually against the firm ties holding her legs in place, and as her ears burned waiting for that sinister hiss that would announce the end she was dreading most of all.

Work dammit, she hissed angrily to herself. Stay calm. Stay focused. You have to get free; you have to do it NOW!

Just then she heard a pained shout come from the two women, and snapped her head up in time to see Sable Myst reeling backward from Ms. Americana’s stinging backhand strike. She staggered, almost falling to the ground, but in a flash of motion the stunning amazon lashed out her hand and grabbed hold of the falling villainess’ collar.

“Fight’s over, Sable,” Ms. Americana panted, straightening and pulling Sable Myst up with her. “Call off your men; there’s been enough violence for one day.”

Jungle Babe saw the look flash across Sable’s face as she rose, the victorious smirk, her eyes narrowed in hatred; she saw the flash of silver in her hand. Her fingers gave up their fruitless efforts, and she looked around frantically for something—anything—!

Her eyes settled suddenly upon the fallen remains of her wrist bindings; a knot of black rope, the frayed ends dangling away from it like the crushed legs of a massive spider, and she launched herself towards it. Bound and awkward, she contorted her body, rolling and grabbing the rope in one motion before wrenching herself to her knees, and hurling the mass with all of her might.

She had precious little time to take proper care, and her aim was off. She had meant to strike the cylinder out of Sable’s hand, but had miscalculated the weight of the knot. The throw went awry, and instead of finding its target, Dana watched in horror as the rope hurtled towards Ms. Americana’s head.

Everything seemed to happen at once.

She heard herself scream, “LOOK OUT!” at the very instant Ms. Americana caught the movement in the air out of the corner of her vision, turning her head in time to see the rope coming right at her. At the same time, Sable Myst’s victorious cry of “Got you!” rang out, and the cylinder was in her hand, pointed right at Ms. Americana’s unsuspecting face.

Reflexively, the dark-haired heroine snapped her head back to avoid the knot that came careening at her, inadvertently dodging the plume of insidious pink smoke that blasted out of Sable’s weapon, aimed at the space that Ms. Americana’s head had just recently occupied.

Jungle Babe looked on in wide eyed shock; Ms. Americana’s shocked, blue eyes flew from the dissipating cloud of poisoned vapor to the still-smoking device Sable held in her hand; and Sable Myst’s coloring, already a sickly pale, went absolutely white.

“No, NO!!” Sable Myst screamed in frustration as Ms. Americana snatched the tool out of her hands, and hurled it off into the dusky distance. Jungle Babe finally remembered to exhale, too shocked, too frayed to say anything, but feeling a massive wave of relief well up inside her as she collapsed to her side on the brittle yellowing grass.

Her eyes briefly connected with Sable Myst’s, and for a brief moment, she felt the villainess’ searing, ice-cold stare burn into hers. She said nothing, but the look spoke volumes.

“You’ll pay. Mark my words you meddling bitch, you will PAY.”

“No more tricks, Sable!” Ms. Americana snapped, wrenching the smaller woman up so that her toes barely grazed the ground. “This is over!”

“I-I think not,” Sable Myst winced, glaring at Ms. Americana, but the strength seemed to have seeped from her body, for her arms hung limply at her sides. “You forget, you pompous whore...I never lose.”

Just then there was the sound of two loud, distant pops, and heavy canisters landed on the ground beside Ms. Americana and Sable Myst, one barely six feet from where Jungle Babe lay prone. At once the shells began releasing a thick, choking white smoke that stung Dana’s eyes and made her throat burn. She coughed, turning away from it as best she could, and heard the same from the two women standing apart from her. There was a pandemonium of movement as the vanguard of the mercenaries reached them, accompanied by muffled shouts as commands were issued and shots were fired. Dana couldn’t see what was happening, could barely see the ground inches away from her face, but all at once she felt someone grab hold of her waist and haul her bodily up off the ground.

She lashed out instinctively, aiming an elbow where she expected the mercenary’s head to be, but felt a firm yet gentle hand catch the blow.

“Hey, hold on, it’s ok!” she heard a female voice whisper reassuringly, “They’re high-tailing it out of here, their tails between their legs. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

The smoke began to clear, and Dana blinked her burning, watery eyes to see Ms. Americana’s face looking into hers with clear concern. Dana was panting, and looked around in confusion. Sure enough, she could see the last of the mercenary’s vehicles trailing dust as they tore away, heading deep into the black jungle.

Sable Myst was nowhere to be seen.

“W-what—what happened...where—?” she croaked, coughing, but Ms. Americana shushed her.

“Don’t talk, you’re injured.” Her hands gingerly touched on the ugly, raw-red rings around Jungle Babe’s wrists. “They used the distraction of the smoke to retrieve their boss and carve out an escape. They were more interested in fleeing than fighting, it seems. Lucky us. Here, let me get you free.”

She helped Dana balance on her feet, and quickly pulled her knots apart. Dana’s knees trembled, and her stance was wobbly, so she was forced to lean on the taller woman for support.

“Thank you,” she murmured, looking about, “Did they get...where is Mrs. McGuinness...?”

As way of answer, Ms. Americana gestured a little ways away, and Jungle Babe saw the senator’s wife laying amidst a heap of fallen tarp, bruised, but breathing, and still mercifully unconscious.

“She’s safe,” Ms. Americana said, breathing a sigh of relief, “I was terrified; it was just this morning that I was able to pinpoint this location, and I feared by the time I arrived you’d all be long gone. I was almost too late. I knew they had one prisoner, but I had no idea they had you, too.”

She looked at Dana, her eyes creasing with concern, and the tone of her voice changing noticeably. “Did they hurt you?” she asked gravely, “I assure you, I’m going to track them down and bring every one of those bastards to justice.”

Seeing the look in her eye, Dana blinked in confusion—and then realized to her utter embarrassment that she was still stark naked.

“Oh god!” she sobbed, blanching, her hands dropping down to cover her considerable assets, and only partially succeeding. “My clothes, they took them—oh god, I can’t fucking believe this—”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok!” Ms. Americana soothed, “Don’t worry, we’ll find you something to cover up with.”

When Dana had finally gotten a hold of her embarrassment, Ms. Americana said, “That was quite a throw back there. If it hadn’t been for you, Sable would have definitely got me with that...whatever that was.”

She was looking at Dana intently, as if searching her memory for something. Then it seemed to hit her, and her eyes widened in recognition. “Hold on, I know you—I’ve seen pictures on the news, you aren’t—?”

“Jungle Babe,” Dana said, wincing a smile, “At least that’s what the papers keep calling me.”

Ms. Americana glanced down briefly at her barely-concealed nudity. “Oh, um...I can see why...”

“Thanks for saving me,” Dana interrupted, wishing to god that her first actual encounter with someone like Ms. Americana could have at least involved her being clothed and desperate to change the subject, “Sable caught me with that weird gas she tried to use on you. Before you arrived, things—things weren’t looking so good...”

“I’m so glad!” Ms. Americana beamed, her voice clear and sweet. “Though in the end it looks like you saved us both, so don’t worry about any thanks. It’s always nice to meet a fellow champion of justice!”

Dana looked at her incredulously. Champion of...justice? Did...did she talk that way all the time? But there was an earnestness there, a sincerity that was so heartfelt it was disarming, and Dana couldn’t help but hazard a shaky smile back. “Um...yeah, the feeling’s mutual. You’re Ms. Americana. I’ve, uh, heard a lot about you. Kind of wish we could have met under less...revealing circumstances.”

“I’ve not always had the best of luck with that myself,” Ms. Americana said sympathetically. She reached down, extending her hand. “Call me Brenda.”

Jungle Babe looked at the offered hand and blinked in surprise, taken slightly aback by the woman’s apparent guilelessness. The hesitation only lasted a second though, and she returned the gesture, feeling Ms. Americana’s fingers clasp warmly around her still shaky hand. “Dana.”

Ms. Americana smiled, then looked past her towards the dusty trail the caravan had taken into the depths of the jungle. Night was falling rapidly, and already what little they could see of the ruts in the road were vanishing into inky darkness. “There’s no way we can follow them now, and I’m not sure it would do much good to try; Sable Myst is a hell of an operator, and she has a real knack for disappearing. Odds are she’s already calling in a favor, and will be out of the country before dawn. She can run for now; I’ll catch up with her soon enough.”

Her blue eyes returned to Jungle Babe, smiling warmly, “Well Dana, what say we find you some clothes and then get the hell out of here?”

Feeling the first actual bit of relief since arriving in this awful place, Jungle Babe found herself returning the smile, saying gratefully. “I like that plan; I like it a lot.”

* * *

Back in the cave, Dana’s voice finally fell quiet. The story that had unfolded out of her, rather than making her feel any better, only seemed to have filled her with pained grief. It had clarified in her mind the image of her friend, reminding her with naked panic that she was out there somewhere, in the mists, in the grip of a monster.

She felt small. She felt hopeless.

She felt angry.

Anna’s voice cut through the dark, startling her, snapping her back to reality. “Did you even catch her? This...Sable Myst?”

Dana swallowed hard, trying to get the rushing blood in her ears under control.

“No,” she said finally. “We worked together for a little while after that, trying to track her down, but she had covered her tracks too well. All of the sudden she was gone, like a ghost, like—”

“Like mist in a breeze,” Anna offered, her voice thoughtful. Dana nodded quietly, unconsciously shifting more tightly against the girl’s naked back. Her heart was hammering, and her breathing was strangely erratic. Was something wrong with her? She couldn’t be certain; it was probably just the story, it always brought up so many feeling inside her, and she should have been more careful about letting herself go back to that place. She shut her eyes, and tried to focus on something, anything, else.

The smell of Anna’s hair wafted to her nose, sweet, like rain. She took a deeper breath, and found it almost intoxicating. “Yeah,” she whispered distantly, “Like that...”

Behind them, tendrils of sinuous, pale green fog criss-crossed over the stone floor of the cave, sweeping, searching. The ones that had found her warm flesh flowed towards her all the more hungrily, licking along her exposed skin with ravenous delight. Jungle Babe was hopelessly unaware of it all; so immersed she was in recounting her story that she never noticed the demonic wisps that even now were touching and caressing her neck, her back, and the supple curves of her long legs.

She might not have been aware of them, but her body absolutely was; everywhere they touched her skin tingled. A simmering fever was glowing just beneath the surface, making her acutely sensitive to the roughness of the cold rock, and its utter opposite; the yielding, warm body of the younger woman she held in a loose embrace.

The story had inflamed her anger, and the fog was feeding off of it, twisting it into something else.

Jungle Babe shifted uncomfortably. Her head felt fuzzy. She kept getting distracted by the sensation of her breasts pressing into Anna’s back, the way her strangely sensitive nipples kept sliding against her smooth skin. Between her legs, her pussy was positively dripping, only adding to her muddled confusion. God, she was so hot...she didn’t want to think that recounting how she was drugged and taken against her will, first by the malicious Sable Myst and then again by her wicked henchman, could turn her on so much. It never had before, but something about this time was different. Maybe it was the stress, or her mind just reeling from the horrors they had already experienced and desperately seeking solace...

...or maybe it was the sweet, innocent thing she held in her arms...

Anna felt Jungle Babe fidgeting behind her, and pushed herself back into the warmth of her body reassuringly. She felt awful for what Dana had gone through, but now at least she could understand a little better why she was so determined to help her friend. Ms. Americana had saved her from what surely would have been a life of slavery and forced subservience, if she had been allowed to live at all. No wonder she was so determined to return the favor.

The younger woman sighed, squeezing her legs together absentmindedly; she hated to admit it, but hearing Dana talk about what had happened, and so vividly, it had awoken something in her. The warmth from Dana’s body had dispelled the tremors that had claimed her since the downpour that had driven them into the cave, and now she felt content to just ease back into her, letting the softness and closeness lull her gently.

It felt nice. Really nice. When Anna felt the brush of something against the back of her neck, she almost thought she’d imagined it.

But then she felt it again; the unmistakable feeling of lips, soft and full, kissing the slope of her throat. She shivered, and not from the cold.

“D...Dana?” Anna said uncertainly, “What...what are you doing...?”

“You’re skin...” came the throaty response whispering in her ear, “It...it’s so...smooth...”

Once again Anna felt those lips on her, kissing harder this time; nibbling against her neck. She gasped. “W-wait...! That’s—that’s not—”

“Just relax,” she heard Dana murmur thickly, as strong, firm arms pulled her more tightly into her embrace. Anna looked down in shock as one of Jungle Babe’s hands slipped down to brazenly take possession of one of her breasts, while her other hands fell lower...

“OH!” Anna whimpered, jumping as she felt the brush of Dana’s fingers against her abdomen. She twisted, trying to avoid her searching hands, growing increasingly alarmed and confused. “Dana—Dana stop, what are you—nnnhh!!”

She winced as a Dana’s fingers found her sensitive nipple, claiming it in their grip. Far-too-pleasant jolts of sensation raced down her spine as that swollen nub was pulled, twisted...she found herself choking back a moan that almost spilled past her parted lips.

“Did it turn you on?” Dana whispered in her ear, making her heart skip a beat. “Did hearing about how I was seduced, how I was nearly enslaved, make you hot?” Anna could hear the strangeness in Dana’s voice, the airiness, the distance...something was wrong; something was dreadfully, dreadfully wrong! She tried to slip away, tried to get loose herself from her friend’s sultry embrace, but lying prone as she was she had next to no leverage.

She squirmed, trying to ignore the way her breast was being fondled, and the seductive warmth that was spreading through her, crying, “Dana—Dana, stop—something’s wrong, something’s—oh—ooohhh!!”

Dana’s fingers had slipped between her legs, bullying apart her slender thighs to find the hot, wet slit at their junction. Anna felt them touch her there, and the air suddenly drove from her lungs as Dana’s slender digits caressed her needy sex. This time she did moan, arcing her back. Behind her, Dana chuckled.

“Don’t lie to me. You’re soaking wet...and so am I...”

Anna couldn’t believe what was happening, but at the same time, she couldn’t deny the pleasure she felt herself sinking into. Dana’s fingers moved with confidence and purpose, teasing her, wringing out the most scintillating sensations and making her gasp. Her thighs began to part on their own, all the better for the hand playing with her trembling cunt to find her rigid clit, and giving it a loving squeeze.

“OOH! OOhhh...god....!” Anna moaned, melting. She kept moaning helplessly, but Dana was beyond the point of hearing her.

The mist played her like an instrument. She was a puppet now...and outside, the fog was only growing thicker...