Sacrifice to the Emerald God by Paul Blades

wait.
          Marjorie was relieved when the man released her arms from behind her but was disconcerted when she learned that he was doing so only in order to tie them together again in front. The man took hold of the long, loose end of the fabric which bound her wrists together and began to lead her away from the campsite. When they reached the edge, next to a bushy tree, she whined miserably as the man tied her hands up over her head to one of the branches. It was high enough so that her arms were fully extended but her feet were still planted firmly on the ground. She whined again when the man unhooked the clasp to her skirt and, releasing it, let the bright, orange, red, green and blue fabric fall to the ground.
          The unhappy, now nude woman trembled in fear as the man crouched down before her and slipped her skirt past her feet. She stood there now clothed only in her yellow, Italian, cork heeled sandals. Her helpless hands were extended above her head and her long, blond, now unruly and tangled hair fell down over her shoulders. The fact of being now so fully nude made her tremble at her vulnerability and seemed incongruous in this rough, outdoor setting. Her heavy breasts swayed gently and their dark, pointed tips seemed to be an invitation to abuse. She rubbed her thighs together as if to hide her vulnerable sex. The man was looking at her, admiring her, taking pride in his newly acquired property.
          She wasn’t sure why he had brought her to this spot and posed her so, but she could take a good guess. He was going to whip her! She just knew it! Her tears had stopped not long after her ravishment, but now they renewed. The orange cloth was still wrapped around her face, gagging her mouth, trapping her reddish, blond hair against her head, and she was only able to utter a plaintive, low, whiney, ‘…..ease!” from her lips.
          The bandit smiled and turned away from her. While he strolled leisurely back to the camp site, Margie desperately struggled at her bonds. If she could get herself free, she could run off into the jungle, naked or not. At least she still had her shoes on. Maybe she would be eaten by a lion or a panther or something, maybe she would sink into quicksand or get irretrievably lost until she died of thirst and hunger. But it was better then being this heinous man’s prisoner.
          But Margie’s struggles were to no avail. Her hands were still fastened securely above her when the heavyset, blood stained man returned. His appearance was grotesque with the mangled straw hat on his head and her oversized, round sunglasses on. He was holding a machete in his one hand and the bottle of brandy in the other. He smiled an evil grin at her and took another long drink from the bottle and then placed it on the ground.
          The poor woman was beside herself. Was he going to chop her up, torture her with the long, wide, sharp blade? Was he some kind of sadistic bastard that would get off on cutting and sawing at her body while she screamed and cried in mortal agony? A large hole opened in her belly and she started to beg and plead with the man, dancing frantically in place. Her breasts jerked and heaved at her motions. “….eeeeeeease! eeeeeeease!’ she yelled at the top of her voice through the stifling cloth across her mouth. “….on’t ill eeeee! ….ooooooon’t, eeeeeeeeease!”
         Diego looked at the terrorized woman with satisfaction. She had a beautiful body and, as he knew, a delicious cunt. Her legs were long and graceful, her skin pale and soft. Her breasts flopped around appealingly as she struggled to pull her hands free of their tie and her lovely, blue eyes were widened with fright. He played with the razor sharp machete in his hand for just a moment, extending the woman’s terror for just a little while longer. Some day, when he was finished with her, unless he sold her off to some whorehouse or something, he knew that he would have to