Discovery in Guatemala

by neff trebor

Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, NonConsensual, Lolita, Reluctant, Coercion, Heterosexual, BDSM, Humiliation, Group Sex, Black Male, White Female, First, Oral Sex, Size, .

Desc: Fiction Sex Story: Bailey and her daughter go off into the jungles in search of Mayan Artifacts, only to discover much more than they want. Bailey makes a futile attempt of offering herself to protect her daughter.

Bailey was excited. It had been a long road to get where she was. She had married late in life. She was thirty when she married one of her older professors. She had started her family soon after. Her daughter, Thumper, was a planned addition. Bailey had felt secure in the beginning of her marriage.

Bailey had been very insecure in high school. She had been tall and gangly as a fourteen year old. Her success on the track and cross country team got her lots of scholarships to college, but did not translate to popularity. At the age of fourteen, she was knobby kneed and flat chested. Her long reddish brown hair, green eyes and large wire rimmed glasses didn't help.

Over her college years, Bailey slowly blossomed. Her flat chest slowly rounded out; not huge, but to tantalizing medium sized melons that did not bounce when she ran. With the thin sports bra, her long-stemmed pink nipples left little doubt that she was a full-fledged woman. Her long slender tanned and toned legs started out with very narrow ankles, calves that had a nice shape and muscles that shaped back in above the knee and bulged at the back of her thighs when she ran. Her butt tensed and relaxed like a cheetah. There was no "woman-waggle" that the runway models use. She ran on the balls of her feet and her arms did not cross in front of her. Her signature long French braid flipped in circles as she ran.

Even her arms had an erotic flair to them. When she wore a short top or just the sports bra her abdominal muscles rippled to reflect the runner that she was.

For whatever reason, she was never very popular. Maybe she was just too focused on her studies; trying to get by on a track scholarship that required twenty miles of interval training six days a week, and trying to get dual degrees in Social Anthropology and Archaeology in five years.

One of the few men to show an interest in her was Joe, her History Professor. He had been divorced on grounds of being a wimp. "Grand Whimpiness may have been the legal term. He was a man who dwelled on his profession of gaining and keeping his tenure at a prominent school. He gave low scores on technical papers for awkward grammar and spelling. He was the kind of professor who would give a bad score if your name was not on the correct side of the term paper.

Bailey did not have a long list of past relationships to compare him to. She had come from a small farming community and had been very insecure on a large college campus. "She would eventually grow to love him." She thought after he proposed very early in their "relationship." They had not had sex or lived together before marriage. She had no idea what a torrid love affair felt like.

It could have been the difference in their age that drove them apart. It could have been that as her husband got older, his sex drive was diminishing. Bailey didn't care, but her husband did. It took more and more to arouse him.

First he started off by making requests that she dress more provocatively. This was bothersome to Bailey, but she looked good in everything he bought, so she was not objecting very much as long as it was private. Each time her husband came up with an idea, it enhanced their love life for several months.

Joe had bought her a dress from Forever Twenty One. It was a very short dress with a button front. The top was scooped low and did not cover her nipples. Joe would make her prepare supper for him when their daughter was away. Bailey thought this was cheaper than counseling, so she tried to humor him. The low dress kept him excited for several months.

Then he wanted to film the sessions. Bailey was a little more skeptical about that; but she was willing to give it a try; still believing that someday she would grow to love him. The films lasted several months. She got upset when he had transferred the cell phone videos to a CD and played it on their 54" flat screen. Never-the-less, she was struggling to get along with him.

Finally, he ordered her to put on the skimpy dress that he loved. She had done as he had asked. She had the long dark silk stockings that stopped just short of her crotch. She left off the panties as he ordered. She had long, high heeled black boots that zipped up the side and stopped just below her knees. Her nipples were concealed by a short, buttonless, sleeveless bolero.

He had ordered her to braid her long red hair into a French braid. She had the long double strand of pearls he had given her on their first anniversary. Her green eyes sparkled behind her wire rimmed glasses. Bailey was very apprehensive when he drove to the garment district, which had lots of new eating places and upscale stores.

She was very nervous when he got out of the car and escorted her down the street along a lot of neon "Peep Show Signs." They stopped in front of a very tasteful theatre. Once inside, it took her a while to adjust to the low light. Once inside, Bailey was impressed by the plush leather seats. Something seemed odd, though. It was a very small theatre. There was an aisle along the right side. There were about seven seats to a row. Joe had her sit on the seat by the aisle. He sat next to her. The row in front of them had two seats missing. That left about six feet or more between the front of her seat and the back of the seat in the next closest aisle.

When Bailey and Joe sat down, several of the men noticed and moved closer. Several men stood in the aisle with their backs leaning along the wall. Several men filled the row behind her. Several men filled the seats closest to her in the rows in front. "What the fuck is going on?" she wondered.

Joe leaned up against her and wrapped his right arm around her. It calmed Bailey down immensely to feel him up against her. "These men will know I am taken. They will leave me alone now." She thought to herself. Joe put his left hand on her lap. It was romantic. She was feeling good.

The movie was "Emmanuelle".

"Maybe this is what we need." She thought as Sylvia Krystal started to remove her soft linen nightgown. She snuggled against her husband. Joe grabbed her hand and brought it over to his crotch. Bailey froze. "What was going on?" she thought to herself. "Somebody is going to see us." She thought. She started to pull back. Joe grabbed her hand and put it against his belt.

Bailey tried to make eye contact with him in the faint light. "Is this what you really want?" she whispered. "I love you." He whispered back. Bailey knew he was outrageous. She knew that whatever she had to do with him would last several months. He would get charged up and be like a rabbit for a long time.

"O.K. I'll do it. Let's see how long this will be good for." She said to herself as she stared at the screen and unbuckled his pants. The men standing along the wall came closer. Bailey's hands started to shake as she forced herself to lower the zipper. The men were all watching; she knew it. He wanted them to be watched by strangers.

Like a zombie, Bailey moved her hand down the front of his briefs. She refused to fondle him; just left her cold hand on top of his penis. Joe reached up to her bolero. He tugged one side away from her, leaving her right pink nipple exposed. Bailey froze. They had to see. Even in this faint light, she could see every detail on the men close to her.

Joe grabbed her left hand. He guided it up to the top button. He grabbed her thumb and forefinger. He guided them to her top button. "Un-do it.' He whispered. Bailey looked at him to see if he was serious. The blood throbbed in her temples as she stared straight at the screen. Sylvia Krystal was in bed with several men, eating and screwing her while she fondled others. The movie seemed to be choreographed to be sending her a message. Bailey was dumbstruck. All of her course work in Social Anthropology had been focused on what people do and why they do it. Nothing in her course work ever covered anything like this. What was driving them? What was driving her? She wanted her marriage to work. She had a young daughter and no work skills yet. She saw herself in a "Fuck or walk." Situation. She was still dependent on her husband for an income; but what about this. She had to prove she loved him, she thought. I will do what I have to in order to boost his ego. Then everything will be o.k.

Bailey's heart raced as she reluctantly moved her fingers down the row of buttons. That was it. The dress parted. There it was; two bare long-stemmed pink nipples shining in the dark. Adding to the humiliation was that she had agreed during an intimate discussion to shave her labia. Now her shaved and un-tanned treasure shined like a beacon. Joe pressed his hands against her left leg to spread it farther from her other.

One of the men who had been sitting in the seat to her left in the row in front of her turned and approached her. Joe had his right hand around her shoulders at the back of her neck. He moved his left hand so that it was under her left knee. He raised his elbow so that her left knee was against her left shoulder. A man standing in the aisle to her right got down on his knees and did the same to her right knee. The man in front of her pressed his stubble against her vagina. She could feel his tongue lapping into her.

Bailey was devastated. "How could she get out of this?" her mind screamed. Another man in the aisle moved over to her. He took her right hand and wrapped it around his exposed penis. Another man came up to stand behind her on her right. She felt his left hand on the left side of her face. He used it to turn her face to her right. She could feel his hot pulsing shaft against her cheek.

"Do it." Her husband said. Bailey felt she had been hit with an anvil. Her mind was racing. Waves of nausea washed over her as the man guided his shaft against her lips. Bailey did not cooperate and she did not resist. She sat there in humiliation as someone knelt between her spread legs and licked her. The fingers of her right hand were wrapped around a semi-erect shaft, but she refused to cooperate.

The neck muscles along her cheeks throbbed in humiliation as the veins in another shaft pulsed against her. Soon the man turned her head a little further and pressed the end into her mouth. It was no sooner past her lips when it erupted, sending streams of ectoplasm into her hair, across her cheeks and down her lips and onto her beautiful breasts.

Somebody handed her a large linen napkin. Others helped her wipe it out of her hair and off of her face and dress.

That was how she had finally divorced him.

She had struggled to get her Master's Degree with a young daughter and her part-time job as a research archaeologist in the History Department. At the age of forty, with a fourteen-year-old daughter who was now the spitting age of herself at the same age, she had finally received her Doctoral Degree.

With her new degree, she had been offered a job at a nearby University as a lecturing professor specializing in Ancient Mayan History. She had been corresponding with professor of anthropology Olivia Navarro Jones. She had heard about her recent discovery of the tomb of a Classical Mayan queen in Guatemala. It had been a remarkable find that shed new light on the role of women in early Mesoamerican cultures.

Bailey had taken the new job with the stipulation that she be allowed to spend the summer on a university-sponsored dig and investigation of the tomb and surrounding area for additional sites. Bailey's daughter, Thumper, was going to get to go with her. Thumper's real name was Dakota; but because of the way she ran as a very young girl on outings with her mother, the name had started in innocent fun. It started because very young children do not initially learn to run on the balls of their feet. Thumper would come down with the heel of her lead foot and the front of her foot would "slap' the ground; like a jackrabbit. Eventually she learned to shorten her stride and land on the balls of her feet which would protect her knees and hips from shin splints.

In the early morning runs when the sun was not completely up, other walkers would be startled when the women just seemed to glide past them without any noise. Their soft whispers or brief shadow was the only tell-tale sign that they had just gone by.

Bailey and thumper had only enough provisions that they could carry themselves; a backpack of dried food, two changes of clothes, tenting and cooking gear, computer, camera, lots of memory chips, and solar powered battery chargers. This was not two women on a trip to Club Med.

Like most mothers of young teenage girls, Bailey was skeptical of her daughter's clothes. She had her long wavy red hair pulled back into a ponytail that had been pulled through the hole in the back of her dark NYPD baseball cap. Her faded blue Levis had been cut off and hemmed just below her crotch. The pockets had to be trimmed and sewn shut so they would not hang below the edge of her shorts. She had a thin stretch sports bra to keep her long-stemmed pink nipples from poking through the blue oxford button down long sleeved men's shirt that she wore unbuttoned. The shirt tails fluttered behind her as she skipped over to her mother. Her burnt chocolate hiking boots stopped just below her knees and were partly covered by the gray wool thermal socks that were folded down over the tops. Her wire rimmed glasses obscured her bright green eyes. Her golden tanned legs were an aberration for a red head. "You have no fucking idea how absolutely beautiful you are." Bailey said to herself as she watched her young daughter running towards her.

Bailey was dressed pretty much like her daughter. Her denim jeans were cut a little longer; about mid thigh and not hemmed. The frayed edges stood out against her tanned and toned legs. The sleeves of her checkered work shirt were folded up above her elbows. Her long red hair was woven into a French braid that hung to her waist. Her black Stetson hat was her father's and looked like it had been drug at the end of a rope out of the back of a pickup for twenty miles. It was worn, but clean. It was her good luck charm. Unlike her daughter, Bailey had her shirt tucked into her shorts and buttoned. She knew it would be hot and since she did not anticipate anyone knowing, she wore one of the older see-through bras that were made out the stretch material like panty hose. The elasticity of the garment kept her long pink nipples from telegraphing their size and shape through the thin shirt.

They arrived at the Mundo Maya International Airport early in the morning. They were taken by local guides to the Laguna del Tigre National park, which is part of the Maya Biosphere Reserve, six kilometers north of the San Pedro River. The closest town was Flores, where they could return for supplies if they needed any.

They were taken to the dig site and were introduced to the other explorers. They pitched their tents near the others and sat down at a picnic table to examine the maps Bailey had brought. There were regular topography maps, Google aerial maps and infra-red aerial maps. Bailey told thumper what she was looking for. They were looking for abnormalities that might indicate ancient encampments.

The next day, the two women went off to check out several possibilities. The days of hiking grew. Thumper used a yellow marker to mark out places they had explored. Although her mother was disappointed, thumper was enjoying the hiking and sending pictures back to her friends.

Thumper handed her mother her cell phone and ran over to sit on a large moss covered boulder in front of a huge precipice. She turned to her right with her left leg stretched out and her right leg bent. She arched her back so her breasts stuck out. She put her right hand on the rock and her left hand up behind her head as her mother snapped the picture with the spectacular valley behind her and the green foliage of the mountains beyond that accented her green eyes.

As the days went on, their trips away from the camp took longer to hike each way. They got to where they could only spend three or four hours climbing the mountains and cliffs, checking out different formations. They did not want to be out alone over night if they could help it. There was the possibility of a jaguar or leopard in this kind of jungle.

One day, they were several hundred feet up the side of a cliff. They were tired and decided to back down to a ledge where they could rest for a while. Bailey lay down with the backpack as her pillow. Thumper was doing the same; picking up rocks and tossing them over the side to see how long it would take to splash in the river below.

Something about the rocks she was throwing over the side seemed not quite right, but didn't register in her mind right away. It was so relaxing to just lie in the sun. When Bailey got up, she went over and picked up one of the rocks her daughter had put down before she fell asleep. The rock was chipped. It wasn't chipped because something had fallen on it; there were tool markings on it. Bailey went over to the face of the cliff. There were deep fissures in the face. Centuries of water had eroded deep crevices in the face. Absent-mindedly, she started nudging and pulling on some of the rocks. She felt one of them move. She pulled on it and it moved more. She started wiggling it back and forth and was soon able to pull it away. It was about two feet high and about six inches wide. She was able to pull out several more. She found a crevice.

Bailey tied one of the nylon climbing ropes onto a harness grabbed a flashlight and several batteries and crawled in. The tunnel went in several feet then started down. It was terrifying to go down a shaft she couldn't see into very far. The shaft seemed to drop forever, but it got wider. It was lined with soot. "How could a shaft be lined with soot?' she wondered.

Just as she was so terrified that she wanted to pull up and go back, she could see light below. She dropped into an opening that must have been sixty feet square. It was square. Bailey almost screamed in ecstasy. This was not a normal formation. Her flashlight revealed carvings and drawings around the walls. One of the walls had water seeping through it. The water flowed along some carved passages along the floor and into a pool in the front of the room. From there, it flowed again along a carved trench in the floor to the source of light.

Bailey went over to the light source. A ceiling cave in had sealed the entrance to the room. The room had been used for some kind of living space. Maybe centuries later, the water leaching through the ceiling had loosened some rocks that collapsed and sealed it.

Bailey went over to the entrance and began pulling out the smaller stones she could lift until she made her way out. From there, she began pushing some of the larger stones over the face of the cliff into the river below?

"Mom, is that you? How did you get down there?" Thumper yelled, apprehensive of what was going on. "I'm down here, honey. I'll be back. Stay there." She called out. Not waiting to explore much further, Bailey pulled herself back up the way she had come. Finally, the sweating and soot covered woman crawled out into the fresh air. Her white mouth and eyes glowed with enthusiasm and were the only clean things on the soot covered woman. She had just crawled out through the airshaft for the hidden room.

They changed their rigging and lowered themselves to the opening below. Bailey hammered pitons into the wall to guide the ropes for her daughter to follow. When Thumper got to the opening, her mother pulled her in. The two women walked, stupefied at what they had found. Bailey spent an hour or so examining the drawings and carvings. Bailey was drawn to one of the figurines on a pedestal against one wall.

The figurine had one leg up, possibly showing dance movement. The left arm was bent and the right arm missing. The top of the figurine's head looked like a fin. This represents either a fish or shark; Bailey thought. The mouth of the figurine could be a jaguar's and with a tooth much like a shark tooth. The crescent shape of the eyes looked similar to the Olmec death god's, connecting the figurine to death. The low eye-lids of the figurine looked like a cross-bands motif. These were often used as symbols of kingship. The figurine also had an engraving of the quatrefoil motif on the back. This suggests the figurine provides a way into the supernatural world. Bailey thought. She believed the figurine was similar to one at the school that had been recovered at the dig site they were camping by. It was believed to be an heirloom of a dancing boy that represented the resurrection. The other figurine was regarded as an important discover because it was evidence that the ancient Mayra knew about the Olmec Maize God. Now there were two of them. What did that mean?

Bailey had finally started to calm down and realized how dirty she was. Thumper went over to the entrance to gaze out at the valley below and the cliffs rising up beyond them just a few hundred yards. She could almost see the soft moss on the ferns. She stood there as her mother undressed and washed in the small pool. She had no choice but to change into some of her daughter's clothes. Although she was glad to have a clean change of clothes, she was not comfortable with the cloned image she presented with super short cutoffs and razor thin sports bra. The clothes she washed were laid out in the sun at the entrance. The breeze at this altitude would soon dry them out and she could change back.

The two women were exhausted and couldn't decide whether to take off now or wait until morning. They used their back packs for pillows and decided to rest for a while and decide later.

Bailey wasn't sure how long she had dozed off, but she was awakened by a bright light. She rolled over on her hands and knees. Her chest seemed to explode as a large boot crushed into her chest and propelled her over backwards and she landed on her back. "What's going on?" Thumper screamed when she heard the boot so close to her head. She turned to see her mother spread eagled on her back. She could see large silhouettes of several men backlit by the afternoon sun through the entrance.

Once the men were convinced the women had no weapons, they turned off their halogen lights. Now Bailey and her daughter could see more of their abductors. The men were huge. They were mostly about six feet six inches tall or more. Their heads were shaved along the sides so they had Mohawks of different lengths. Their dark green camouflage gortex pants hung over their dark black high-laced military boots. Their sleeveless camouflage shirts were unbuttoned and fluttered free of their pants. Their ebony colored skin glistened from the sweat they had worked up climbing down to the entrance. Their hundreds of feet of green nylon climbing rope hung over their shoulders and the dark gun metal barrels of their Uzi's glinted in the flickering light.

The men spoke quietly to each other. Bailey caught a few words. They sounded like Totonacan, or something like it. It was definitely not Spanish. This was an ancient Mayan dialect. Could they be Mayans? There were no known descendants of the Mayans or Aztecs who spoke their native dialects that could be tied to the ancient hieroglyphs. She had found an ancient site and indigenous Mayan speaking people.

"What the fuck are you people doing here?" a deep gravelly voice echoed off of the granite walls. "What?' she wondered. How could somebody speak an ancient Mayan and perfect English? She was stumped.

Bailey thought maybe she had not filled out all the official paperwork to obtain the proper licenses for their exploration. She tried to show the passports and permits she had obtained, but they weren't interested.

The obvious leader seemed to be Itzel. It seemed like such a baby name for a black man who was over six feet six inches tall, with a Mohawk haircut and an Uzi. "You have no right to be here. You've put yourselves in a bad spot, because nobody knows where you are and how long you will be gone. I don't see how we can let you go now. You will go back to wherever you came from and there will be millions of tourists trampling our burial sites and stealing the bones and heirlooms of our ancestors." Even after he quit speaking, the room seemed to echo his words. After that, the words echoed more in her head. "How could she have so foolishly put her daughter in this danger?" she wondered.

Bailey heard a scuffle. She turned to see one of the men had Thumper with her arms pinned behind her. She started to run to defend her daughter when she heard Itzel release the safety of his gun. The metallic click of the safety being pushed back was just a small click, but in the granite chamber the echo sounded like somebody had dropped an anvil. Bailey turned to see the inside of the barrel starring at her. Itzel shook his head. Their eye contact made it clear from him she was to stand where she was.

When she turned to see her daughter, one man had her arms pinned. The other pulled a skinning knife. It had a hooked point and a short curved blade. The man reached up. He was standing inches from Thumper. He hooked the point and hooked it between her thigh and denim shorts. There was no sound as the denim separated in front of the razor point. Thumper's chocolate brown leather belt offered no resistance as the garment fell away. The only thing that kept it from falling off was that the other leg was still tight around her.

Now she wished she had packed some panties she thought to herself as the garment fluttered below her crotch on one side. It was clear that Thumper had shaved. The stubby point of the knife found itself under the other leg of her shorts and snaked its way up through her garment. It fell to the floor like a stone. The fourteen-year-old groaned in embarrassment and humiliation as she felt the cool breeze between her legs.

The man walked over to Bailey and handed her the knife. He stood there smiling. Bailey didn't know what to do. She looked imploringly over at Itzel. His eye contact told her what to do. This Mayan Svengali made it clear she had to finish the job. Bailey was sobbing as she approached her daughter.

"Please forgive me honey. We have no choice" she said as she raised the knife to the space on her sports bra between her breasts. Bailey pulled the fabric away from her daughter and sliced it in two. Thumper's breasts sprung out. With her arms pinned behind her, the garment was stretched behind her and had nowhere else to go. Her arms were arched back and her and her back was bowed. Her alabaster white breasts framed her long-stemmed pink nipples as they jutted out into the air.

"Oh, Mom, what's going on here? How can you do this." Her daughter sobbed. Thumper stood there with her arms pinned behind her; one of her breasts peeking out from behind the blue oxford men's shirt; her legs spread wearing brown logging boots laced up to just below her knees. She tried to turn her hips in a futile attempt to cover herself.

They drug her over to a big flat rock. Was it a sacrificial rock? The man behind her laid her down on the rock and pulled her arms up over her head. Thumper was sobbing and her head was thrashing slowly from side to side, refusing to accept what she knew was going to happen to her.

She bent her knees and brought her feet up. It reduced the pain in her abdomen, but left the treasure between her legs open to view.

One of the men came over to stand at her feet. He snapped off the safety. Thumper knew what that meant. She closed her eyes getting ready to die. Instead, she felt something cold. It was against her lips. It was against the soft white lips between her legs. She froze. She knew the safety was off. Any panic reaction on her part could cause the gun to fire. Thumper held her breath, afraid to move. She opened her eyes. She couldn't see it but she could feel it. The cold metallic flash suppressor on the Uzi was touching her. Bailey watched in horror.

The enlarged end of the flash suppressor looked like the head of a copperhead; a rattlesnake; a penis. It looked like a smaller version of her husband's penis. Thumper groaned as the pressure increased. It rubbed up and down the length of the slit; unable to enter. She was dry. Words were said between the two men. The man who held her hands let her go. Thumper put her hands over her eyes trying to calm herself and stop her sobbing. They guided her to sit up. "You're dry". Somebody said. "Do something about it." Thumper had no idea what they were talking about. She pulled back. She placed her arms on the stone behind her. She didn't know what to do.

The man held the suppressor against her slit. He moved it up her body as though searching for something. The cold muzzle crept up her abdomen and between her breasts. It went up her neck and chin. It stopped at her lips and pressed hard. Thumper had no choice but to turn her head or open her mouth. The muzzle was pushing against her lower lip and teeth. She had no choice but to open her mouth.

"Do you know how to suck cock little girl?" The terrified teenager shook her head to indicate a frantic "NO".

"Show her cunt." Itzel said as he smiled at the mother. Bailey was dumbstruck by the words. What was she going to do? Was she going to demonstrate to her daughter that she knew how to perform oral sex on the muzzle of a gun?

Bailey walked over, hardly able to make her feet move. "They would easily kill both of them. Nobody knew where they were. It would be days or even months before anybody started looking for them." Bailey thought. She knew she had to forget about her own dignity and ignore whatever her daughter might think of her.

Bailey walked over and sat on the boulder next to her daughter. She looked up at her tormenter as she placed both of her hands on the gun barrel. She couldn't bear to watch her daughter's expression as she closed her eyes and leaned forward. She slid her left hand up just behind the crown of the flash suppressor. She extended her tongue and flattened it. She fluttered the end of her tongue up and down; across and into the opening. Her cheeks flushed as she softened her lips and kissed the tip of the metallic phallus. Bailey turned her head to the side and used her lips and tongue to caress the sides of the gun barrel. It had a cold and oily feel to it. It was not so much her physical contact with the cold metal as the implication and association of her actions that made her stomach wretch. It was not the actual act that made her want to gag.

Thumper watched in horror as she watched her mother perform this pornographic act in front of her. "How does she know how to do this?" her mind screamed. She had no idea her pristine mother was capable of such erotic expression. Thumper had gone online over curiosity about the terms: cocksucker, and blowjob. She had heard them many times in school between the boys who were angry with each other. She didn't think such an appalling act was real. This was the "unicorn" of sex in her mind. "People who loved each other did not do those things." She thought.

Bailey moved her hands down the barrel a few inches; squared her mouth with it and slowly; erotically moved her lips to cover more of it as it disappeared into her mouth. She opened her eyes and made eye contact with her tormentor to see if that was enough.

The big man in front of her was so aroused he almost exploded into his pants. "Help hold her down cunt." One of the men said. Bailey wasn't sure what was going to happen, but anything was better than getting shot.

"Please put the safety back on." Bailey sobbed.

"Lay her the fuck back down on the rock first.'

Bailey sobbed in terror as she put her head against her daughters. She put her right hand down on the rock for support and guided Thumper to lay down on the rock. Thumpers hands were pulled up over her head by the gunman behind her. Her head started to turn slowly from side to side in anguish over the next unanticipated indignity.

Thumper felt the gun against the back of her right knee. Like a rider guiding a horse he was riding, the young teenager lifted her knee. He guided her to rest the heel of her leg up on the edge of the rock. He did the same with the other leg. Next, he laid the cold muzzle between her knees and forced them apart. Her legs parted to reveal the alabaster white cleft between her golden Coppertone legs and abdomen.

Thumper felt the ice cold flash suppressor against her opening. He pressed it into her fold. He used the tip to toy with her clitoris. The crown of the metal phalanx nudges up under the pink flap and raises it above her slit. He used the tip to bring her nub up for closer examination. The two women were sobbing; Thumper for her own humiliation; Bailey for her daughter's.

"You're going to be O.K. honey. We will get through this. I am so sorry I brought you here. We just need to get through this." Her mother sobbed into her ear. Thumper had her head back and her arms around her mother's neck; humiliated beyond all her wildest dreams.

"It's getting dry. Lick it cunt." The gunman snarled as he brought the barrel out of her and over against Thumper's lips. "Suck it you fucking cunt." Thumper turned her face away almost gagged at the request. "Thumper, honey, we have to do what he says. Or we'll get killed.

A switch seemed to go off in the young girl. She tried to erase her mind to what was going on. She relaxed her body, knowing she had no control. She softened her lips and lowered her jaw. She closed her eyes like she was in the dentist's chair.

The request for lubrication was more for humiliation than any reality of physics. There was enough moistness in her inner membranes and oil on the muzzle to prevent any real injury, but the gunman seemed to enjoy the degradation of this young girl.

Thumper raised her head and accepted the gray slotted phalanx. It disappeared into her lips like a submarine diving for deep water. He held it still and Thumper bobbed her head a little as she had seen her mother do. The muzzle crept out of her mouth and found its way back between her legs. The young girl groaned as she felt the penetration. He didn't just shove it in. He pressed it against the lower edge of her opening so as not to tear her with the gun site. He moved it in circles as he inserted it.

He brought it back out and used it to press against her clitoris. He moved it back and forth. "You do the work.' The man said. He held the muzzle still and forced Thumper to hump against the slots on the sides of the suppressor. Thumper groaned in humiliation over what she was forced to do. She also knew that if she didn't obey, her mother might get killed too.

She had done it to herself, actually. She had an idea of what motion they were after. Soon the gunman and the young girl were moving in unison. Thumper could feel it coming, but was completely unable to stop her unwilling actions from doing what was happening.

Pretty soon her groans became grunts. Then her body tensed. Then it shook and trembled. Bailey knew what was going on and was equally humiliated at what they had just done to her daughter. Bailey was so sad that such an intimate feeling of ecstasy had been wasted on these savage strangers rather than with an intimate lover in a romantic setting. This was the ultimate violation. Well, no, not quite.

Bailey heard a familiar noise. The sound of a zipper was almost the same as hearing the safety being released. "Oh, God; they are going to rape her again. This time with the real thing." She realized. She turned and stood facing Itzel with sheer panic in her eyes.

She picked up the skinning knife she had laid on the boulder. She placed the tip under her sports bra. She grabbed Itzel free hand and placed it over hers on the handle. "Do me." She said.

'I know more. She is ignorant about how to please a man like you. Let me be your lover. I will do everybody here. She has no idea what to do." Itzel was impressed with her resolve and determination. He decided to take advantage of her panic and despair.

"Convince me cunt.' Baileys' cheeks burned at the insult. She was humiliated that she could not fight back. She thought about the knife they both had a hold of. Could she use it to threaten his life in return for the freedom of her daughter? The thought passed in a millisecond. They were probably more determined than she was that the two women would not escape.

Bailey placed Itzel's hand on the handle and hers over it. Their eyes locked as she guided the hook of the razor sharp blade between the thicknesses of the shirt against the thread of the highest button. The knife sliced through the thread and the first button skipped across the stone floor. The knife between them continued down through the rest of the buttons. The sides of the checkered work shirt separated, revealing her transparent sports bra. Bailey was desperate to mask her humiliation and embarrassment as the garment parted.

Bailey put both of her hands over Itzel's and tucked the point under the fabric between her breasts. Together, they moved the knife upward. The elastic material sprang away from her melons. Bailey let go of the knife; arched her back and pulled the tattered garments over her shoulders.

The three black men had not ever seen two women with this kind of physique. The women of South America aged before their time. This woman who was obviously the mother of a young woman seemed timeless.

Bailey stood there trying to present an appearance of defiance she did not have. The tears forming in the corners of her eyes gave her away. The woman stood there in her high-heeled chocolate colored logging boots. Her tanned and toned legs, abdomen and arms framed the alabaster white un-exposed private areas shielded by a bikini. The alabaster white breasts tended to highlight the long-stemmed pink nipples that jutted up and out at the men.

Bailey's feelings of humiliation and embarrassment were not shared by the areas covered by a bikini. Her long pink nipples had a proud and regal presence with no feelings of connection to their owner. Her shaven and pouty cleft had no shame. It presented itself in all its glory; un-apologizing for its lack of cover and absent of any modesty. And for good reason; this middle aged woman had attributes that should never have been covered.

She was every bit equal to the woman whose burial site they were looking for: She reached out for the gun. She grabbed the end of the barrel; stuck it in her mouth; covered it with saliva; and lowered it to her cleft. She pushed it. She put both of her hands on the huge man's shoulders and with their eyes locked, said: "Do it."

Itzel groaned. He shook his head in a "No" response. He took her hands and guided them to his pants. He wanted the real thing.

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