ADVENTURES ON HOR 2 MASTER
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ADVENTURES ON HOR 1: ARRIVAL free porn video
CHAPTER 1: ARRIVAL
Catherine James had risen quickly in her career with the US Marines. An unlikely candidate for the Marines, she holds multiple Masters and PHD degrees in Mechanical Engineering, Environmental Engineering, Bio-Medical, and Nursing (during a period she was bored). Having been raised on a Montana ranch and growing up outdoor doing hard work with her brothers and father, she was also identified in the genius category. She left the ranch at 15 years old when she graduated from high school without hardly trying. She had her first Bachelor degree, Mechanical Engineering, two years later. At age 24, she found herself bored with school and degrees. While she loved the ranch life, being outdoors and working in any weather, her father insisted she find something to make use of her skills and intelligence. She wasn’t sure her decision to join the Marines satisfied that but it at least followed in her father’s footsteps as a former Marine.
Physically, she was a natural for the Marines. She was trim and athletic with a 5’ 9” body at 120 pounds that was used to hard work and heavy exertion. She could shoot a weapon from the back of a horse or from hundreds of yards from a high branch in a tree. She was used to walking or leading a horse for miles through dense forest or mountain sides in search of strays. Her mind gave her an edge in anticipating demands and expectations. She left the training phase of the Marines at the top of her class in every aspect but the most physical measurements of brute strength that some men would still best her at.
During an early tour of combat, she was pulled back to the States for a special assignment. Intelligence analysts had detected a possible site containing the production of weapons of mass destruction. She was attached to a special Marine unit tasked with the goal of infiltrating the region and making an assessment of the site. Her analysis had been so thorough and convincing, it led to the site’s destruction by drone attack. After rejoining her unit on the combat assignment, she exceled there, too. The Marines soon developed a special task group commissioned for combat potential and reconnaissance with heavy requirements for scientific analysis.
Catherine James was quickly promoted to a Captain rank. Though fully qualified in combat and tactical maneuvers, her rank and primary directive was science and evaluation. It was on such a mission in the mountainous region of eastern Afghanistan that everything would change for her. Data intercepts by overhead spy aircraft were detecting troubling streams of information and data suggesting the development of more WMD and plans for using them. Buried inside deep tunnels and caves of the mountains, the site was all but invisible to airborne surveillance. Her task group was sent in for detection, evaluation, and recommendation. They were landed undetected just over the border of Pakistan for a long hike to the valley where the site was expected to be. The terrain was difficult and would not be expected.
Reaching the designated point position overlooking the valley, they waited for two days in the changing conditions of heat during the day and freezing at night. On schedule, all but a group remaining for guarding the exterior left for a switch of personnel that would give them about ten hours. Using suppression devices on their weapons, exterior guards were eliminated and five of the team, including Captain James, entered the caves. Inside, a half dozen more people were killed in a short battle and secured. She moved quickly through the facility, marveling at the ability to live and work in such conditions with generators to maintain state-of-the-art computers and equipment inside a mountain. Using her own much more sophisticated state-of-the-art equipment, she downloaded and analyzed the threat of development, moved to the entrance of the cave and transmitted it all up to the spy plane for quick transmission to HQ. Her assessment and confirmation at HQ determined an immediate threat and orders were made for destruction. Drones were not practical so explosives would need to be planted by the team.
With her primary assignment completed, Captain James moved back up the mountainside to a determined over-watch position to cover the team after securing the explosives. After scanning for anything moving or unusual, she rested her weapon, removed her backpack, and stored her equipment securely inside it. It was then that she spotted it. A glint of light down the dirt road. She used a scope to determine the source and communicated to the team that a line of four or five vehicles were approaching, the thick dust being kicked into the air making it difficult to accurately see the vehicles. She estimated 15 minutes. The team leader gave the order to set charges for 25 minutes, hoping to catch some entering the caves when it exploded.
Captain James took her weapon and scope, leaving her back pack for only a moment to shift around a boulder to a better vantage point to the approaching vehicles, set her weapon down, and …
“Captain James, status on the vehicles?” The question over the unit’s comm was clear. “Captain James? Ma’am?”
The team leader hustled everyone out after assuring the charges and explosives were set. Up the side of the mountain, the team found the over-watch location and Captain James’s equipment, but not Captain James. There was nowhere for her to have gone and not be seen by the team. Communication back to HQ indicated that even the spy planes above had lost contact with her. One moment she was in position, the next she was gone from their screens. The Marines have a long history of not leaving a team member behind. But … when they just disappear …
* * * *
Catherine James had the strangest sensation. She moved only a few steps to the side as she checked the surroundings. She was about to reach for her scope when … the view before her became blank, not black or blurred, just blank … and she was falling. At least that was the sensation … falling and falling a long way though she had no physical senses associated with falling like wind rushing past her face, hair floating, or the ground rushing toward her or her surroundings rushing past her. Yet, she felt she was falling.
She didn’t really remember much of anything. There was that sensation but then nothing really. The next thing she was aware of was a very different environment. The surroundings were barren, the mountains she had been in were gone, even from the horizon. In their place were tall plateaus of vertical rock faces. When she began turning to survey her location, she was stunned by what she found. A large lake below her. But what stunned her was the appearance of two moons in the sky, each impossibly large and close to the world she found herself on. Her mind raced for an explanation but there wasn’t one … there couldn’t be one. This was impossible. Shouldn’t a moon that large and so close tear this world apart by its gravitational effect? Her inner voice questioned her thinking ‘this world’. What did she mean ‘this world’? This isn’t Earth? How could this not be Earth? But her inner voice laughed in response … this doesn’t look like Kansas, Catherine. Quoting Dorothy now? Get a grip, she chided herself. But she did have a grip, though a tenuous one, perhaps. Sherlock Holmes said, ‘Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth’. It seems impossible that she wouldn’t still be on Earth, but those moons … this isn’t Earth. Therefore … if she wasn’t on Earth … where was she?
Then she heard noises. Voices, sounds of wheels on dirt, perhaps a****ls. She watched in the direction of the sounds just over a rise of sandy windblown land. She looked around her in search of her weapons and pack. They, of course, were not there. She did have the handgun strapped to her right thigh and extra magazines, some with bullets for it, others for the long-gun weapon she did not have. She started walking toward the sound, soon seeing a line of wagons pulled by some form of ox-like creatures. As she got closer, she was spotted and the line of wagons stopped. She waved to them in hopes of finding help. Her attention on the strange b**sts, the old wagons, and the people walking alongside and behind the wagons held her attention a bit too much. She saw that lines of naked women were strung behind the wagons, tied to common rope, their hands bound before them. If she hadn’t been so shocked at the sight, she might have reacted better to the sound behind her.
When she woke, her head felt like it was split open. Her vision fluctuated between blurred and focused. She knew the signs of a concussion but her medical training assured her this was a mild case. She was jostling from side to side and bouncing up and down. She was in the back of one of the wagons otherwise filled with what she deduced as trade goods. Her view out the back of the wagon was a line of naked women secured to a rope fastened to a ring in the wagon floor. The first woman in her view was talking to her but seeming to not want to draw attention to it. Catherine didn’t understand a word she said. In fact, she didn’t recognize the language as anything she had ever heard. Then, the woman yelled something and the wagon stopped. A large, fat man in loose fitting shirt and trousers appeared at the rear of the wagon and unceremoniously pulled Catherine from the wagon by a foot. She landed on the trampled sand and instantly recognized another startling thing: she too was naked.
She was marched to the rear of the line of women, trussed up with rope like the others and secured to the rope. She was barefoot and naked. She saw nothing of her clothes or equipment. Clearly, by looking at the men in charge of this caravan, such things would have held no interest but curiosity to them. Before she thought too much about any of that, though, the wagon began and she was forced to stumble forward after the other women. She could only wonder what God-forsaken place she found herself. She didn’t dare wonder what fate lay ahead of her.
The caravan stopped after several hours alongside a large lake. She decided she hadn’t been u*********s long after all. The lake was the same she had viewed earlier just from the opposite side. She watched the line of women released from the ropes, then they moved with purpose but no joy in tasks of setting tents, making fire, and preparing food. She was jolted by the strikes of rope across her back and butt with angry words of some instruction she didn’t understand. Another woman rushed to her and led her back to where others were establishing tents. The women talked in hushed tones to her but she might as well have been deaf for all the good it did her.
Catherine James had never encountered a situation that seemed more hopeless, but she had never been one to give up on hope. Somehow, some way, a way out of this would become evident. In the meantime, she had to find a way to fit into the structure, to not stand out. She quickly understood, these women were slaves. And, she understood enough of her own country’s history to know slaves who draw the wrong attention didn’t survive long.
That became very clear the first night after dinner. As the women cleaned up after the men finished eating, Catherine was grabbed by the hair and pulled to a group of men lounging before the largest tent. She was place in front of them as they appraised her. She didn’t understand the words but the tone was clear. A woman found along the route was a free prize. More words were exchanged and a man turned her around before them. He swatted her butt, squeezed her large 34D breasts and held out her long, dark brown hair. More words. The man kicked her feet apart so they were spread more than shoulder width. Then, a hand was between her legs, a finger penetrated her dry pussy. She cried out, partially in surprise but also from the rough, calloused finger probing inside her. The one fingering her said something, the others laughed. The men opened their loose-fitting trousers, exposing their cocks. She was pushed forward and to her knees. She understood her plight even better. A new slave … was she worth anything to them?
She wondered the same thing: was she worth anything as a slave. Only to her, the question she really posed to herself was if she wanted to be worthy as a slave. The answer was obvious to her, though. Did she want to be a slave, treated like one, used without regard like one? No, of course not. What she had to do, though, was survive. She had to survive for that opportunity hope told her would come with something better … escape or something.
She crawled forward to the man in the center of the group, the fattest one, the one on the most comfortable pillow who she assumed with the leader. She held her eyes, then thought better of it. She wasn’t enticing this man, not like a man she was hooking up with, both of them driven by a temporary need. This was different, very different. She remembered the other women diverting their eyes from looking directly into the faces of men. Slaves. Of course, slaves don’t challenge or assume anything close to equal status which was implied by that gaze.
She focused on the exposed cock of the man, instead. It was uncircumcised and limp. It wasn’t particularly large but as she got closer, she smelled him and wondered how long it had been since he bathed. The odor was strong and musty and no man would get closer to her like this. Not normally, anyway. She hadn’t been shy about sex, but within the unit it was restricted. Outside the unit, though, she satisfied her needs as greedily as the men probably did. She tried telling herself this was just another encounter. It wasn’t working. This wasn’t just another encounter. This wasn’t her choice. These men had no intention or inclination of giving choices. These men took what they wanted from these women … from her now, too.
She lowered her face to the cock with the intention of impressing her worthiness to be kept for a while longer among them. She feared the alternative wasn’t merely being released. She lowered her open mouth to the cock to touch it with her tongue but she gasped from the odor and her throat clutched in revulsion. She pulled back and coughed to open her throat for breath. She regretted the action immediately. The man swung his open hand at her, connecting with the side of her face, and knocking her to the ground. The man who had brought her to them provided several lashes with his rope over her bare body. She first cowered from the lashes, then forced herself to endure the rope striking her back as she crawled back to the reclining man. She immediately engulfed his limp cock between her lips, tasting the odor or at least the dirtiness that produced the odor. Pushing past her sensitivities of her former existence, she pushed herself to accept her new existence for the chance of something she hoped would come.
She sucked the man greedily now. Ignoring everything else, the odor, the other men, the man behind her with the rope ready to lash out, even the other people and slaves in the camp who might also see. If she was to be a slave, none of that vanity concerns could matter. She pushed her mouth down over his cock and sucked her way back up to the head. The cock became hard quickly, the man releasing gasps and moans of pleasure from her effort. Another hand, she didn’t know which man, touched her ass, then slid a finger between her legs to her pussy. He said something and the men chuckled. She knew what he had said, not the exact words, of course, but she knew her actions and resignation to her situation had resulted in her own arousal. The man had felt that arousal, her wetness, at her pussy. Instantly, there was a change in the air among them, like sharks sensing blood in the water.
The fat man she was sucking put his fat hand on her head and pushed down slightly. She took him deeper into her mouth but he wasn’t that big to enter her throat very far. Another man was now at her ass pushing her thighs apart, then she felt a cock probing her pussy before driving forcefully into her without any regard for her. A slave, she reminded herself. Survive. She pushed back against this new cock and the man behind her grunted as his cock was suddenly deep inside her. The man she was sucking grabbed a handful of hair and used it as leverage to fuck his cock with her mouth as the man behind her grabbed her hips to combine his thrusts with pulling her hips back against his thrusts. This was a brutal fucking, a fucking intended only to achieve their own satisfaction.
The leader climaxed in her mouth. She felt the stiffness of his cock grow, the pulsing before the jerking of cum released in her mouth. Three strong spurts of cum nearly filled her mouth. She swallowed and she did it with exaggeration in her action so the man would know it. He grunted his release like an a****l himself, sighed when he was finished, then pushed her head to the side. Another man was crab walking to her, his cock exposed before her. Still being fucked from behind, she moved as well as she could to take this new cock with her mouth. His sigh and gasp as her mouth encased his cock reinforced her efforts and resolve. The man behind her clutched her hips tight and thrust mightily into her, holding his cock deep inside her as his cock spurted his seed deep in her pussy.
When that cock pulled out of her pussy, a new one, already hard, replaced it. This one was larger but she had no idea who the man might be. It was just another cock. She thought she remembered eight men in the group but she knew there were more in the caravan. Hopefully, she thought, the other slave women were pleasuring them.
When the next two men started with Catherine, the leader of the group said something and the men shifted, both pulling out of her. She was left gasping and confused. Not understanding the language or cultural expectation was a massive disadvantage for her. Even without understanding the words, she quickly understood the intention as one man lay on his back on the ground holding his hard cock straight up. She crawled to the man and threw a leg over his hips to straddle him. She was about to grasp his cock to align to her hole when the man behind her abruptly thrust his cock into her cum-drenched pussy. At first her confusion intensified until she noticed the leering smile on the man’s face below her. The cock in her pussy pulled out and when she hesitated was swatted on the ass. She grasped the cock below her and sat down slowly over it. The man behind her was in more of a hurry than that, though, and roughly pushed down on her shoulders to seat her completely on the cock. He then pressed her forward. She felt the hands of the man she was on pull her ass cheeks apart and a cock pressing roughly and forcefully through the resistance of her sphincter. Even cum soaked, his cock felt dry in her ass. She cried out in pain as the both men began brutally fucking her adjacent holes. The more she cried out, though, the harder they seemed to thrust into her.
A strange thing happened, though. Strange to her, anyway. The cries coming from her as the two men pounded mercilessly into her changed from mere pain to … somehow, it changed to rising pleasure. She was being brutally fucked by these primitive men and her body was betraying her in the basest of ways. In moments, she orgasmed. The cries from her became those of a banshee. The sound surprised even herself. Her body’s reaction was equally surprising to her. She orgasmed in the past, yes, but not like this. Her arms and thighs quivered as the nerves bounced within her body. She shivered and quaked. Her pussy and asshole clenched and spasmed around the cocks inside and they responded in climax almost immediately.
More men came to her, giving her verbal orders and becoming frustrated at her slowness to respond. She received many slaps of hands or lashes of ropes for her lack of response. Not understanding the words but seeking visual clues of their wishes slowed her. She was sure she was viewed as ‘slow’ or ‘dim-witted’. Perhaps, they even decided it was why she was found stranded by herself. Perhaps, she was merely left by a frustrated owner who didn’t even want the bother of trading her. She knew her immediate survival depended on being around people. She had to learn the ways if not the language to hope to survive if she escaped.
All three holes were taken by the men after that. She lost track of the number of times she was penetrated in one hole or another. It lasted for hours on end. If it was only the eight men, they used her repeated by each. When they stopped, had their fill of her, she was unceremoniously dragged and dropped among the other slave women, secured by ropes, again.
In the morning, she ached. Her pussy, ass, and jaw ached from use by the men. Her breast seemed to have been of interest to the men as they were intent on mauling her hanging, bouncing, swinging breasts while being fucked. Her nipples were sore from pinching, twisting, and pulling. When the caravan began moving, she struggled to keep pace while tied in the line of other naked slaves. This was her life? Abuse in one form or another?
She seemed to be singled out and she didn’t understand why. There was a lot she didn’t understand but there were lines of naked slaves besides her. At every stop along the route and every overnight camp, it seemed she was pulled into groups of men. The first night was with the group of men in charge but after that night it was groups of every other kind of man, men who drove the wagons, herded the a****ls, kept the lines of slaves moving behind the wagons, and rode along on a****ls as guards. Those last men were the fiercest of them all. Those men, the guards, were rough and barely controllable by the men in charge. She literally feared for her survival with those men.
The night she spent with that group was the worst experience of her life. The men rotated through the night as they took turns at guarding the edges of the camp. Every hole in her body was filled with cock and cum. She would pass out while being fucked and come to still being fucked. She couldn’t fathom the purpose of such abuse.
Four days in the caravan and on this god-forsaken plant felt to her like a lifetime of misery. She felt nearly broken but her stubbornness and will to resist being defeated, trademarks of her previous life and quick rise within the male dominated world of the Marines, rose to the surface. It was a sudden shift in her and it didn’t go unnoticed. The lead men seemed to have been watching her intently. When she willed herself into control and resistance, it seemed to cause noticeable reactions in them. She willed herself to do what needed to be done and in so doing she would find a way to survive until something better happened.
On the fifth day of marching behind the wagons with that frighteningly large moon sitting on the horizon as a constant reminder of where she wasn’t, something did happen. Something very much unexpected.
Scanning the surrounding landscape as they traveled had lost her interest long ago. After long nights of being used by men for their pleasure, Catherine could barely manage to stumble along with the line of other slave women, much less pay attention to the surroundings. But her attention was drawn to the murmurs cascading down the line of wagons and connected slaves. She didn’t understand the words but she did understand the heightened interest and maybe concern in the tones of the voices. She followed the gaze of the others. Something had their interest ahead of them. She moved to the side with the other slaves and gazed ahead, peering into the raised dust and beyond. Ahead and well to the side coming down a hillside to the left was a single figure. It appeared to be a single man astride another strange looking b**st and he was on a path to directly intersect the caravan. The interest in this development wasn’t idle curiosity, however. She noted that the wagons slowed and grouped closer together, the slaves were bunched tighter behind the wagons they followed, and the guards who were intended to protect the caravan had angled inward to be closer to the caravan, as if the caravan might be some protection for them. None of the guards were moving to intercept this lone intruder. One man? This was something to pay attention to.
* * * CHAPTER 2: MASTER will follow * * * Thanks for reading.
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