Chapter 7
A last desperate effort propelled Liz back to the surface. She swam with waning strength, south along the shore, out of the current that was carrying her out to sea. A cresting wave lifted and hurled her listless body toward the shore. It felt like a wild roller coaster ride -- slowly rising up, then dropping fast, tossing and turning until she did not know which way was up.
Her trailing legs finally touched the sandy bottom and she gasped a cry of relief, stumbling forward to sprawl on the beach at the base of the cove. White and sparkled in the moonlight. Behind her, lights on the yacht Temptress gleamed against the black night sky.
Liz crawled on her hands and knees, across the beach and up a grassy little knoll. It was warmer there, sheltered from the chilling breeze. She slumped and fell asleep, settling deep in a dreamless void. She felt the warming glow of the rising sun hours later and began to stir, slowly blinking sleep from her misty blue eyes, stretching her aching muscles and yawning to feed more oxygen to her dulled brain.
The long white yacht looked stately and serene in the morning light, nothing like the menacing spector she'd been so frantic to escape from the night before. Crewmen in white sailor's outfits were moving on deck.
Liz watched them sleepy-eyed until her fears came rushing back. A dingy bobbed in the water at the base of the gangway and one of the men was untying the small boat's mooring line. She moaned half under her breath, "They're coming after me!" A cold shiver jarred the last sleepy cobwebs from her senses.
She dragged her legs up and kicked off her swim fins. A dense forest of pines and firs rimmed the cove. The highway could not be far beyond. It ran close to the shore along most of the coast. She could find the road and walk back to where she'd parked her car to go diving the day before. The crewmen did not seem to be watching the shore, but Liz was careful not to draw attention to herself. She crawled to the edge of the woods, dragging her floppy swim fins with one hand. Once hidden from view by the towering tree trunks and clumps of brush that grew on the forest floor, she straightened up and walked east toward the rising sun.
Slivers of sunlight filtered through the lacework of branches intertwined over her head. She followed a narrow, crooked little path, probably a deer trail. Still weak and stumbling, she lurched from one tree to the next, pausing to lean against the rough-barked trunks to rest and catch her breath.
She kept looking back at the yacht, fearful until the dense forest almost screened it from view. Then she turned her attention to the narrow path and moved faster, gathering strength when it seemed she had made her escape. Liz didn't see another man watching her intently.
He was hidden thirty yards ahead in a leafy. tangle of brush, dressed from head to toe in mottled green, brown, black and tan camouflage clothing that perfectly matched the foliage all around. Even a wary deer would not have seen him.
A stretchy, gauze-like camouflage mask covered his face. He spoke into a walkie-talkie radio also mottled with multi-colored blotches of green and brown. "There's a bandit on the beach trail," he whispered hoarsely. "A fucking frogman from the boat that's been cruising back and forth off shore."
"Just one intruder?" asked the answering voice over a faint hiss of static.
"One's all I can see here. They've hauled up the dingy and raised the anchor. Looks like they're getting underway."
"A diversion," the radio voice said sternly. "If the frogman tries to cross our defense perimeter... waste him!"
"Roger." The camouflaged sentry shouldered an M-16 assault rifle and eyed the approaching figure through its telescopic sight.
Liz paused on the trail to pull off the clinging damp hood of her wet suit. Long waves of radiant dark brown hair spilled free, sparking in broken rays of sunlight scattered by the tangle of branches far over her head.
The hidden watcher muttered, "Holy shit!" and brought the radio back to his lips. "That frogman is a froglady," he said. "A living doll!"
"If she heads for our garden, don't let her go on living."
Liz had no idea what she'd stumbled into. Growing marijuana is big business in remote, sparsely settled parts of northern California. Plantations are hidden in the woods -- hidden from spotter planes flown by the law, hidden from rip-off artists who try to steal crops worth a fortune from the growers who plant and tend the illegal gardens.
It has become a quiet, deadly little war. Plantations are guarded by Vietnam vets with automatic weapons. Lethal booby traps line woodland paths near the hidden plantations. Crops of high-grade marijuana buds can be worth a million dollars or more if not found by the law or ripped off by ruthless drug thieves more feared than anyone with a badge and a warrant.
The watcher said, "Jeeezuz... I can't shoot a woman! Not one like this. She's long, sleek and sexy! I'm talking about prime pussy! Grade double-A fuck meat wandering around like she's lost."
"Well, then -- " The radio voice paused to reconsider. "Bring her in, good buddy. Let's have a little fun and find out why that big white boat has been hanging around here for so long."
Liz tossed and fluffed her long waves of moist hair, feeling better now. She started forward again, taking longer, more determined strides. Then a sudden, sharp metallic click jarred her senses, the sound of a rifle bolt slamming home.
A threatening, unseen voice said, "Freeze! Don't move a muscle. Don't even blink!"
"Whhha?" Liz gasped, first thinking that one of Paul Morgan's crewman had somehow gotten ahead of her. Her frightened eyes darted around the edge of a small clearing fringed with clumps of brush.
She saw nothing until the man stood up -- aiming a sinister looking automatic rifle at her chest. He wasn't one of the crewmen from the yacht, not dressed in bizarre camouflage that even veiled his face. "I -- I'm just trying to find the road," she said nervously.
He chuckled softly. "Sure, lady. And maybe find our garden along the way?"
"Garden?" Liz had no idea what he was talking about.
"Yeah, so your friends in that big white boat can come back and rip us off at harvest time?"
Liz gave him a blank look. When he said garden she thought of people growing vegetables or flowers. Nothing anyone would want to steal. Nothing that would have to be guarded by an armed man dressed for jungle warfare.
"The people on that boat aren't my friends," she said in a quaking voice. "I jumped overboard last night to get away from them."
He gave her a quizical look and motioned toward the sea with his rifle. "Looks like you did that all right. They're sailing away."
She looked back and saw the Temptress underway, heading north with a broad V wake spreading behind. But she was too worried about the man with the gun to feel relief. He said, "Take off that wet suit, sweetheart. I want to see what you look like underneath."
"N-n-no," she said incredulously. "Who are you?" Until he told her to undress, Liz thought he might be a soldier on some kind of training exercise. "What gives you the right to -- " He smirked back of his gauze-like camouflage mask and aimed the rifle at the center of her chest. "Folks call me Spider," he said. "For webs I weave. You see what's across the trail about two feet from where you're standing?"
Liz looked and saw nothing. He gestured down with the gun barrel, then she saw it -- a thin strand of monofilament fishing line stretched taut across the narrow track about three inches off the ground.
Sight of the clear, almost invisible line sent a fearsome shiver up her spine. "You trip that and a grenade goes boom," he said. "It would scatter your ass all over these woods. Now get the suit off, baby! Spider wants to see what's caught in his web."
Cringing fear left her too weak to resist. Liz could only think that she'd blundered into another nightmare. She gritted her teeth and heaved a sad moan, slowly inching down the zipper of her wet suit jacket.
Spider watched with dark eyes glinting back of his camouflage mask. She grimly bared her firm, sharp-peaked breasts and stood trembling. "Nice!" he said with an anxious rush of breath. "Better than I thought. That rubber suit doesn't do you justice."
Justice? Liz almost laughed. There was no justice -- not if an innocent young woman had to face so much danger and shameful humiliation in a short time. She had barely escaped from drowning and being eaten by a shark. Then she was cruelly used for sexual pleasure by a millionaire playboy with no morals at all. And now, she thought with a whimpering sob... now I've stumbled into something even worse.
Liz was deathly afraid of guns. She remembered the thundering roar and bullets ripping into the body of that shark, how it streamed blood and thrashed in its death throes. Blind with fright, she stripped off her wet suit and stood naked with a slanting ray of sunlight striped across her pussy mound.
Spider came out of the tangle of brush, carefully avoiding the trip. string set to detonate a grenade. He pulled off his mask to reveal a craggy, hard-lined face with a smirking grin. "Now you wanna see what I got for you?" he asked smugly, holding the rifle in the crook of one arm while reaching for the zipper of his fly with the other hand.
She stammered, "N-n-no," and staggered back a step or two, lurching off the narrow path.
"Careful!" he warned. "There's pungee sticks all along the trail."
Liz stopped and stared down at needle-like slivers of bamboo stuck in the ground along both sides of the trail. There were dozens of them all the same height as the wild grass, unseen until she looked hard. Anyone diving off the trail for cover would be skewered like shishkabob.
"Wh -- what's going on here?" she asked in a faltering voice. "What kind of garden needs so much protection?" Liz hoped to keep him talking, to keep his mind off the twitching cock she could see swelling hard in the crotch of his camouflaged jumpsuit.
"Weed," he told her, inching the zippered fly down.
"Weed?" Liz never used drugs of any kind and did not associate with people who did. To her, a weed is something you pull out of a garden, not take such pains to protect.
"Pot," he said to explain another way, working a rough, gnarled hand into his open fly. "Marijuana. Pure, potent buds. Sensimilla. Mendocino Gold."
"Oooh!" Being a teacher, Liz had heard a little about marijuana being grown in the north state. Federal, state and county narcotics officers waged a relentless war against the growers, uprooting hidden plantations whenever they could find one. But experts estimated that at least half the illegal crop still found its way to market -- processed buds worth so many millions of dollars that growing marijauna was said to be California's third largest cash crop.
He saw the fearful light of understanding flash in her blue eyes and said, "Now you know why we can't let you wander around in these woods."
"But I just want to get away," she said in a sad wailing voice. I don't know where your plants are. I don't care! I won't come back. Please... I'm a teacher."
"A teacher? No shit? I didn't have any teachers sexy as you when I was in school." Then he broke off laughing at the tought. "If I did, I'd still be in the sixth grade."
His burrowing hand pulled out a meaty big cock that looked to be at least ten inches long -- bigger than even what Long John Sylver was so proud of. What Long John was probably giving to young Shelly right now. She winced her eyes shut and pleaded, "No, don't do this to me. Just let me go!"
"I can't do that while my dick's hard," he answered with sad, pretended concern. "You make it soft and I'll think about it."
"W -w-what do you want me to do?"
"Start by sucking me off. I wanna cum in that pretty face of yours, teacher." His anxious voice twisted the last word into a slur. The man who called himself Spider did not like teachers. Did not like them at all!
Getting poor grades in high school kept him out of college, so he was drafted and sent to fight in Vietnam while kids with better grades got deferments. Spider was still bitter about that. He snarled, "Suck my cock, teacher. Teach me something I didn't learn from the sexy little slant-eyed whores in Saigon."
Spider was bitter about that too. His girlfriend married a guy in college while he was overseas getting shot at in a stinking rice paddy. And he didn't come home to a hero's welcome. Nam vets were considered outcasts -- demented killers of women and kids. It wasn't right, but that's the way it was.
Liz gritted her teeth, dropped to her knees and leaned forward thinking, What the hell... it's not like this was the first time. And sight of his huge dick throbbing before her eyes was exciting. She felt that eerie tingle of desire start racing up her spine.
She curled her right hand around the thick hot shaft at the root, puckered her lips and pressed forward. Long John could have his fucking teenage slut. Liz had found a cock bigger than his. She kissed the rubbery head of it and swept her tongue up and down on the tip to tease the cum slit.
"Hunnngh," Spider groaned, delighted by the sucking passion he felt surge the whole length of his cock. He dropped the rifle and clasped both hands back of her head, pulling her further onto the shaft.
Liz sucked and rippled her tongue along the tender underside of his cock until the fat knobbed head pressed to the back of her mouth. She gulped, took a deep breath and tipped her head back to let him enter her throat.
Spider gasped, "Oooh, you're a good teacher! Real good, baby! We might keep you until harvest time!"
She seemed not to hear or care that he was talking about keeping her a prisoner. Liz was enthralled by the hot throbbing vigor of his big cock pulsing and straining her slinky throat. The rush of unwanted pleasure dulled her other senses.
Gulping and groaning, she swayed on her knees in the grip of wild passion. She plunged forward and nibbled her lips to the root of his dick. The coarse zipper teeth of his open fly pressed cold and hard against her soft lips. Liz reached her hands up and loosened his heavy web belt.
His camouflage pants slid down. She tugged at the elastic band on his undershorts as her lips pulled back. His hot, springy big cock slipped out of confinement. Liz gasped and leaned back, gazing in awe, gripped by emotions beyond her control.
She loved his throat-swelling cock and wantonly displayed her desire by sucking and swirling her adoring tongue around his huge, clefted ball of flesh at its head. "Yyyuuummm," she purred, pressing forward again.
"Hhhooo!" Spider expected timid, half-hearted cock sucking from a beautiful bitch he'd just taken captive at the point of a gun. Nothing prepared him for the passionate pull of her nibbling lips or the anxious way her tongue teased and rippled beneath his swollen cum pipe.
She gurgled anxious, choked animal noises with her lips buried in his dense, sweaty dark tangle of cock hair. Then Liz brought her hands up again. His cupped palms filled with soft waves of her silky long hair. Spider hissed and moaned, straining to keep his balls from erupting their heavy load.
Liz added to his straining delight by cupping the big orbs in a silken tangle of mink-soft hair. Her fingertips twirled to entice his weighty nuts. She could feel them quiver and pulse with the heat of a heavy load.
The idea of sucking and swallowing a man's jetting cum no longer filled her mind with dread. She wanted to feel the gushing spurts go deep. Debauching herself with a sinister stranger would help flush away her bitter memories of John Sylver and free her anguished mind at last.
She sucked and made hungry gurgling noises while her fingertips tenderly worked his dangling balls to eruption. "Unnngh!" he groaned, aching to prolong the delight of her heated lips and clinging throat.
But Liz increased the urgent passion of unleashed desire. She rippled the sleek hollow of her throat with gulping motions and teased his nuts until Spider let go with a roar. He clamped his hands hard on the back of her head and jerked forward to bury her lips in his cock hair, gushing jism from the head that lodged deep like the tip of a well-digger's drill.
The first creamy spurt rocked her back despite the pull of his strong hands. She gurgled a wet moan and kept sucking, gulping to swallow the sticky hot blast. Spider fired the next one into her mouth. It was briny as seawater, but thick and rich tasting as a savory sauce.
Liz managed a lewd grin even with her mouth stuffed full of hairy-rooted dick. She bobbed her head back and forth in a frenzy, looking like a woodpecker with the shaft of his glistening cock in place of a long pointed beak.
Spider had never enjoyed the delights of dick sucking with a woman who took fiendish delight in swallowing his cum. He rasped and moaned raptured sighs, jerking her head back and forth by the hair, grinding his meaty big cock in with all his might.
Liz felt dizzy, dazed by his verile strength and seemingly endless spurts of hot jism. They flooded her anxious mouth and made her cheeks puff. Her tongue rippled in the rising tide of delicious salt-sweet jism that dribbled from her lips.
Silvery drops fell and splattered on her firm, heaving tits, sparkling like wet pearls in the silvery beam of sunlight slanting across her chest. Spider released his grip on her head and slid his hands down to fondle those proud, cum-splashed cones of luscious woman-flesh.
He twirled her nipples, thumbs and fingers gliding smoothly on a slick film of jism. Liz moaned and gurgled strangled cries of delight. The tremors of another great climax had begun. Orgasm was her great escape. She welcomed the intense contractions that surged from her loins with such force she could feel them in her fingers and toes.
She. kept sucking and stroking his balls like a greedy wanton, gulping and swallowing all she could. But Spider's big cock was a fountain of lewd pleasure that gushed more than she could get down. More silvery bubbles of cum slipped from her sucking lips and splashed down on her breasts.
If she had been able to stand back and watch, Liz would have been shocked and appalled by her lusty hunger for cum. But she was lost in the convulsive waves of climax that churned like a storm-tossed sea, carrying her further and further from all normal concern.
Liz soared to the eerie peak of release and hungrily sucked his last drop with a delighted sigh. Spider swayed on his feet, so weak-kneed he could hardly stand up. She slumped back and let his cock slide out of her mouth.
Silvery jism glossed her lips. They curved into a dazed and delighted lewd grin, dripping cum that she licked up with languid swipes of her tongue. Spider said, "God damn... if you fuck like you suck, I ain't never gonna let you go."
Still lost in the rapturous glow of orgasm, Liz grinned wet-lipped and said, "I fuck better than I suck. I like nothing better than a big thick cock ripping into me -- " Then she broke off laughing distracted and unconcerned. "Did you know I was a virgin this time yesterday morning?"
"You're shitting me," Spider said flatly.
"No, it's true. I was fucked the first time and almost eaten by a shark."
"Yeah?" Spider was used to women babbling bullshit while they basked in the afterglow of orgasm. "Well, you're about to get eaten again, teacher. I love to suck sweet cunt before I stick my cock in."
"Hhhmmm, good. I like that too. Eat me while my pussy is still hot and wet. Put your tongue in and feel my torn cherry, then fill me with cock!"
In a rational state of mind, Liz would not have recognized her own voice -- and certainly would not have believed what she just said. Her tone deepened to a husky purr and she begged for cock like a shameless whore.
For one brief moment she looked sad and strickened, wondering if that is what she'd be come.