Chapter 5

Besides doing laundry, camp life consisted of a myriad of tasks assigned to us prisoners: cleaning the huts, helping to prepare meals, cutting vegetation to keep the jungle in check. Somehow, they managed to make all of them both exhausting and degrading.

The next day after dinner, one of the guards entered the prisoners’ hut, carrying the wooden yoke and a few bundles of rope. He glanced around the room, then pointed at me.

“You! Undress!”

I turned to Rita. “Shit! What did I do?”

“Probably nothing,” she said. “I guess you’ll be evening entertainment.”

He already had his leather strap out, so I quickly pulled the dress over my head and squatted down. Content that I had followed orders almost immediately, he only gave me a couple of lashes across the back.

“You no talk!”

The wood of the yoke was worn and smooth. He placed the heavy thing on my shoulders and tied my hands to its sides using coarse rope. When he gestured to get up, I almost tipped over, but managed to get on my feet.

With a noose around my neck, he dragged me behind him like a dog on a leash.

If it wasn’t for the satellite dish on the roof, the guards’ hut would have looked just like all the others. The inside was a single messy room with leftover plates and empty bottles, the air a stale cocktail of sweat, cheap cigarettes, and spilled beer. A few old couches stood around a large flatscreen television, and half a dozen of them were sitting on the couches, drinking beer and watching cricket on TV.

The place may have looked like a frat house, but unlike back in university, a naked, tied-up woman didn’t raise any eyebrows. They seemed more interested in the cricket match than in fucking me, which I found moderately insulting. I assumed everyone already had their turn with the Swedish girl on cage duty.

One of them, just back from a trip to the fridge, stopped in front of me.

“Tits good,” he said, setting his beer on the table to maul my breasts with both hands.

My handler tossed him a bundle of rope and said something I didn’t understand. It soon became clear enough. The breast harness they tied on me wasn’t half bad: the rope bit into the base of my breasts, heaving them upward, the taut skin taking on a light pink hue. I felt the pressure, but it didn’t hurt.

It was somewhat embarrassing that my pussy was juicing up.

“Now fuck,” my handler said after checking the harness.

When he made me lean over the table, the heavy yoke ensured that my tied breasts were squished under me. Now it hurt. I tried to get comfortable, but my options were limited.

I felt a liquid on my asshole and a finger followed, pushing inside me.

Oh for fuck’s sake!

I wasn’t generally opposed to anal sex – quite the contrary – and despite the pain from my breasts, I might still have been able to squeeze out a decent orgasm. But with my hands tied to the yoke, it was impossible to rub my clit. To make matters worse, I hadn’t used the latrine yet.

Knowing what would follow his finger, I spread my legs as he slipped on a condom. Not overly concerned with my comfort, he thrust his cock into my full rectum, eliciting a wince. He wasn’t the biggest I ever had back there, but proper warmup would have gone a long way in making this enjoyable for both of us.

“You too loose,” he said, burying his dick inside my ass.

Fortunately, he had the solution. The noose cinched tight, cutting off my air and sending a spike of panic to my brain. My lungs rebelled, and my body reacted with an instinctive, desperate contraction – my sphincter clamped tight around him. I gasped, but despite the oxygen-deprivation, I got the message. I squeezed his dick to the best of my abilities, which made him go easier on the noose.

“Good whore. Now tight.”

I drew fresh air into my lungs, glad that my frantic efforts were appreciated.

One of the more daring members of the crew walked up to me, holding his already hard dick under my nose. Encouraged by a few slaps to the face, I opened my mouth and sucked on his unwashed cock that still had the faint taste of Swedish pussy.

Without the use of my hands and unable to move much on the table, I did the best under the circumstances. It wasn’t quite enough. He pushed his hips forward, making me gag and almost puke on his dick. He pulled out just as the noose tightened once again around my neck – I had forgotten the other dick that was fucking me. Gasping for air, I squeezed for all I was worth.

“Need more practice,” the one in front of me said, grinning. He delivered a couple of hard slaps across my face that made my head spin. “Try again?”

I nodded. “Y-yes. I’m sorry.”

Getting my ass fucked while trying not to suffocate on cock wasn’t how I had imagined my first time with two men. My performance was pitiful, but I got him there, and by the time he had shot his load into my face, someone had turned off the TV. A dozen men were now looking for post-game entertainment, forming two lines at the table.

Fuck.

The line of men seemed endless, a blur of rough hands groping every inch of my body, cocks fucking my ass and throat, but inexplicably never my pussy.

When I came to the next morning, I was lying on the ground inside the bamboo cage. The yoke was still on, and so was the breast harness. My face and hair were covered in dried cum, my throat was sore, my face was swollen, and my asshole throbbed. Judging from the smell, someone must have pissed all over me, and there was a crust of dried brown filth on my breasts.

“Rough night, huh,” Rita said, standing outside the cage. “Looks like you had a bit of an accident.”

The yoke was too heavy for me to sit up, but I managed to scoot away from the cold, sticky pile of excrement I had made. Some time in the night, I must have lost control of my bowels, pushing out a mix of lube and feces.

I groaned. “That’s what happens when a dozen guys fuck you in the ass for hours.” Wincing, I clenched my sphincter. “God, my butthole hurts. I hope they didn’t wreck me.”

“Nah, you’ll be fine. A well-lubed asshole can take a lot of abuse.” She grinned. “Wait until Pam works you over with her strap-on. I’ve never seen it, but apparently, it’s the size of a beer bottle. Makes you walk bow-legged for a couple of days.”

“Can’t wait.” I croaked, my throat feeling like I’d swallowed glass. I tugged at the ropes pinning my wrists to the yoke. “Any chance you could untie me?”

“Sorry, I’m not allowed.” She reached through the bars, running her finger over my tied, shit-caked breasts. “I really love that harness. I wish my tits were big enough to be tied like this.”

“Overrated,” I rasped. “Any idea how long I have to stay in here?”