The Underground Vixens of Ballbreaker Pass - Parts 1b and 2

Three years of swinging a pick ax had produced a Pete strong and chiseled, but nearly two days of running from the law with no food or water had made him weak and puny. Resigned to his fate, and noticing that the females seemed to be taking a breather from their hard-earned victory, Pete inspected what he could see. 

With the floor mostly flat, the ceiling of this cavern reached up into total darkness, while the rock walls were mostly pinkish and sand-colored. The entire area was rectangular, with the farthest distance between parallel walls at least 25 yards. Besides the one Pete had come through, there were two more holes big enough to enter or exit, depending on how you wanted to look at it. 

Spaced willy-nilly about the walls were makeshift lean-to's of wooden sticks and cloth. Two wagon wheels were counted and some sort of pen had been cordoned off by a wood-rail fence, looking to be about 16 feet square, but with nothing inside it. 

As for the women, Pete guessed there to be around 40 of those, half older and half about his age. He gazed up at the healthy blond sitting on his chest. Trim, fit, shaped with sinewy muscles, her expression was that of a savage, but natural features told Pete she was, or had at one time been, a refined and civilized girl. Being a man denied for far too many months, he automatically focused on her well-rounded breasts, soft skin and hard nipples. 

It wasn't exactly a convenient moment to get aroused considering his state of vulnerability, but the touch of rough fingers rubbing on his nuts triggered an immediate response. As his penis filled with blood, he desperately turned to the only other man present. 

"What is it, Jack? What do they want?"

"Well, Pete, there ain't no use me telling you just yet. They got a lot of funnin' planned, I can tell you that. Might as well just get used to the fact that these women are gonna do whatever the hell they want with ya. This is their welcoming room." 

More hands joined in. They went to work on his feet and legs, while blondie scooted her butt to the end of his sternum so she could double hand-rub on his furry chest. Their hands were rough like a man's, but their techniques soft like a woman's. They were all over him, assaulting every part of his top side, except for his fully-hardened pecker that bobbed up and down on his stretched belly.

"Who are they?" he pleaded. "Can't they talk?"

"That will do," came a graveled, but feminine voice. "That will do just fine."

As the massaging hands left him and pinning hands stayed, an elderly woman appeared from beyond the chest-sitting female. This woman’s hair was gray and skin wrinkled. In contrast, her physique was nearly as fit as the young amazons in the group. A thin, animal-hide strip was worn around her neck, but nothing more. 

"We can speak just fine, mister. Don't usually have a call to, though."

"Who the hell are you? What do you want from me?"

My name is Celeste Nehi and this is the temple of Jacob. It is named for my husband."

"I thought he said his name was Jack Hutch."

"Not him, my husband isn't here, but his spirit is. Every one of these youngsters came from the seed of Jacob Nehi. That's my daughter Sarah sitting on your chest. She was the last born."

Pete looked up at the buxom female, as she threatened him with a snarl. "I'm gonna beat the holy shit out of you." 

Her first words to him, thought Pete, were not exactly an invitation to romance, or at least not to any sort of lovin’ he‘d been dreaming about for the past three years.  "Jack," he shouted, while struggling against his captors, "what's wrong with 'em? What do they want?"

Still hunched near the tunnel hole, Jack's voice this time was stern. "Can't tell ya, Pete. Quit askin' me."

"Yes, indeedie," the old woman cackled, "that will do." She stepped back and twice clapped her hands. "Take him to the arena."

* * *


Part 2 - Corralled

They turned Pete onto his belly, brought his wrists together and prepared to lift him up, but with a renewed burst of energy, he jerked hands and feet free, then rolled far enough to get some separation from his captors. Springing to his feet, he ran for the nearest hole, plunging into darkness for but six paces, then entering another room. Cascading down the wall was clear water, which pooled into a sunken pit of grey, slimy muck. The smell of sulfur and salt penetrated his nostrils, as he searched for another means of escape, but with the possible exception of whatever was under that goo, the only way out was the way he'd come in. 

With his first attempt of escaping a failure, Pete reluctantly allowed the women to escort him back to their welcoming room, to the arena, that penned area squared by four-sided wood-rail fence. Loose dirt comprised the floor, while the top rail of each side stood four feet high. 

They lifted him over, tossed him inside the pen while the rest of them stood outside the perimeter both as guards and as spectators. 

"You're just a firecracker, ain't ya?" mocked the grey-haired matriarch, Celeste Nehi. "Ok, Pete..." she turned to shout at Jack. "What's his last name?"

Strolling towards the pen, he answered, "Pete Radcliffe."

"Ok, Pete Radcliffe, the rules of this game are simple. There ain't none. Whoever's pinned for a three count's a loser. No submissions. I'll start you with two and add another after a 100-count. Do what you gotta do."

The situation was hopeless. Each younger vixen stood at ringside, itching to get their hands on him, while the elders formed a second line behind them. Celeste Nehi stood inside one corner post, ready to officiate this massacre. Weakened by thirst and hunger, Pete asked for just a bit of mercy. 

"Could I at least have some water before we start?"

With a sigh of exasperation, she consented. "Jack, get him a drink."

Returning with a porcelain mug full, Jack leaned over the rail and handed it to Pete, whispering, "Don't worry, boy. They won't hurt you too bad."

He gulped down the cool refreshment in three swallows, handing the mug to Jack. "More?"

"No," barked Celeste. "Sarah and Josie, you're first."

Like wild animals they leaped into the ring, slowly stalking their quarry into one corner. Pete knew only one thing - fisticuffs, and he possessed a potent punch, but these cagey wrestlers stayed out of range, tempting him to come towards the center. With the blond Sarah to his left and brunette Josie to his right, Pete crouched defensively in the corner. 

Soon tired of the standoff, Celeste warned him. "The count's 30, mister. You better get busy or soon you'll be facing three."

In a flash, Pete stutter-stepped with a fencing motion towards Josie, threw a left jab that missed, then a right cross that connected with her left titty. As she howled behind him, Pete lunged towards Sarah, who deftly side-stepped his charge, extending a leg to trip him, coupled with a forearm across his back to send him crashing into the rail. 

Stunned, he staggered back a few steps, where Sarah hooked her right arm with his, extended a leg and flipped him over her hip. Pete landed onto the dirt flat on his chest, as each women took hold a leg and raised them up to secure him in a double Boston crab. Leaning onto his buttocks with all their strength, the amazon duo nearly broke Pete’s back in two.  

"99 and 100," Celeste shouted to announce more bad news. "Marjorie, go get him."

Launching herself from the top rail, Marjorie came crashing down with both feet onto Pete's back, just as the other two released him from the crab. Three bare feet began to stomp on his backside, causing him to roll over, only to receive the same to his top side. Dropping to the dirt, Sarah quickly put the man into a brutal head scissors between crunching thighs, while Josie grabbed both ankles and stretched him lengthwise. More stomps followed, courtesy of Marjorie, to the chest, to the stomach and belly. Manly grunts and groans echoed throughout the cave, as Pete withstood this three-pronged assault. Sinewy thigh muscles clamped onto his neck cut circulation to his brain, nearly causing him to pass out, but Sarah relaxed just enough to keep him alert. She wanted him to feel every foot stomping his exposed torso. 

Then, all holds were released. Pete lay spread eagle, motionless except for his heaving chest and belly. Sarah did the honors by flinging her body across his, as Celeste counted one... two... but Pete planted both feet flat onto the dirt and lifted with all his strength to send Sarah tumbling to one side. 

"Well, lookee there. He did a kick-out," exclaimed Celeste. "I was hoping three wouldn't be enough. Don't want to spoil our fun." She pointed to the next opponent. "Mary, your turn."

A new attack commenced with a turning of the weakened man onto his belly. Josie grabbed both ankles, Mary got his wrists and they lifted him up, quartered and suspended in mid-air with chest hanging. Straddling him like he was a young steed, Marjorie sat on his back to further bend his spine downward, while Sarah slid underneath and went to work. Using short, upward jabs, she pounded into his hard, stretched abdominals, pulverizing every inch from the pit of his stomach to the lowest reaches of his belly. Deep-throated grunts coincided with each blow, as the torturous weight of the cruel mount riding his back curved his spine to a near breaking point while stretching his chest and abdomen nice and tight.

Sarah continued to launch short punches into his exposed gut, and then humiliated the poor man by grabbing both nipples between fingers and thumbs. Mercilessly, she gave him double titty-twisters, causing the titty owner to howl with grief. After a few more hard knocks to his middle section, Sarah rolled out from underneath, Marjorie dismounted and the other two dropped him like a rock. Pete crashed chest-first into the dirt. 

They rolled him over and again Sarah draped herself across his prone body for a count of one... two... and another defiant kick-out. 

"Well, god damn, Pete," Celeste complimented. "Maybe you're not such a sissy-boy after all. Bridget, see if you can finish him off."

Jack stood behind the leader, proud that this fellow was holding up to the brutal assault of four, soon to be five, young women. All these vicious females working on one helpless man, yet he continued to find enough strength to rebuff their attempted pins. As he watched Pete push upwards with his arms in a struggle to rise, Jack shouted out words of encouragement. "Don't give up, Pete. Show 'em what a man can do."

A few stomps to the back sent Pete chest down onto the dirt, then Sarah pounced on top of him. She hooked her arms underneath his, brought hers up to lock her hands behind his neck, then pulled up his arms to secure him in a full nelson. With one swift jerk, she rolled over onto her back, bringing Pete with her to lie atop and crush her bulbous titties. She pulled his arms down with ruthless authority, while pressing the back of his neck with her locked hands. Marjorie and Josie each grabbed an ankle to stretch him lengthwise, adding further agony to an already painful hold. 

This poor man lay there groaning in futile agony, as his back arched, chest thrust upwards and middle section collapsed from the merciless full nelson. Two women who had nothing to do knelt on either side of Pete’s expanded rib cage, not to inflict more pain, but torment. Two hands lay flat onto his rippled belly; two more frantically rubbed his heaving chest. One man versus five women, Pete never had a chance. His cock instantly sprang to life and flipped from down to up. Lips touched the pit of his stomach and furred chest, and along with it came a complaint. "He stinks."

"That's right, Bridget," the matriarch soothed. "He smells like a man. The man we've been waiting for. Use your tongue, ladies. Lick him clean. Spit on him so he don‘t smell so bad."

All 20 of the younger females entered. Each surrounded the man, as many as could kneel beside him, and proceeded to lick away all dirt, all sweat, all slime. 

"Not the penis," Celeste warned. "Make him wait."

One man versus a gaggle of lustful women, Pete writhed in ecstatic torment. 

He felt the smashed titties and hard nipples of Sarah grinding into his back muscles, while countless tongues moistened every inch of his top side. Fingers and thumbs delicately pinched and twisted the skin of his testicles, while frothing spit darkened manly fur. They sucked on fingers and toes, slimed his arm pits, licked and lip-pinched his nipples, tongue-drilled his navel. They taunted and teased with their titties, dangling the soft balloons within inches of his mouth, but never allowing his yearning tongue to touch or taste. 

As the intensity increased, so did the gyrations of his cock. Nobody touched it, but all were mesmerized by its powerful ballet. Thick, sturdy, fully engorged with veins pulsating just beneath its surface, this man's mighty tool helplessly bobbed and weaved, aching for attention. Its owner undulated, near madness as he pitifully gazed upon countless tits and pussy holes, so close, yet so out of reach. 

How long had these ravenous females waited for the muscled, fur-covered skin of a strong, virile man? Shiny vaginal juice slimed the man and saturated the dirt, as the exhilaration of anticipation overwhelmed every female present.

Jack Hutch rather enjoyed this scene himself. He climbed into the ring for a closer look, calmly standing beside Celeste while cupping her once-beautiful breast into his palm. "I'd say you struck it rich," he whispered.

"He's a healthy one, Jack. That's for sure."

They both gazed upon the relentless female feast of a helpless man's flesh, focusing on their victim’s neglected cock, its head now fully encased with pre-orgasmic ooze. "How long you gonna make him wait, darlin'?"

She smiled while grasping onto Jack’s other hand, bringing it to cup her other breast, answering him as he moved behind her. “Guess 'til I get off myself, Jack. Then I‘ll think about Pete."

Jack dropped one hand, inserted three digits and finger-fucked her glistening vagina. Low-pitched moans rumbled from her chest, as Jack expertly found her vibrating clit and rubbed her there. Increasing the pace, Jack rapidly massaged back and forth, causing shudders to reverberate throughout her body.

"You're a brute, Jack Hutch. Oh, god, just think of what might have been."

His finger attacked like a jack-hammer, ruthlessly vibrating her spongy clit from front to back and side to side. "It's gonna work out just fine, Celeste… better than you could’ve hoped… maybe."

Her body tensed for orgasm, but Jack's hand never let up, not even after a second volley quickly followed the first. "Jesus Christ, Jack, hold me before I collapse."

He propped her up with the cupped-under-breast hand, while slowing the pace with his rammed-up-the-pussy fingers. "Want me to hand-job him?"

"No, better let me. The girls wouldn't understand."

“He won’t understand it either way.”

With Jack’s hands removed from her, Celeste stepped towards the ravenous females. Like vultures they fought one another for access to their defenseless prey. They had brought him to an uncontrolled state of madness, to the point that Sarah's full-nelson was no longer necessary, not that she released it. 

He arched his back to a torturous degree, thrusting his powerful chest high into the air. He physically invited the tongues to lick. He writhed in unbridled lust, begging their lips, hands, tongues and fingers to mercilessly squeeze, kiss, slurp and rub. With each exhale, he flattened his belly and held it there as long as possible. He tempted them to bury their faces deep into its hard muscle. He yearned for tongue tips to pile-drive their way deep into his knotted navel. 

For Jack, the view was beyond belief. One incredible man - stripped naked, held in a torture rack grasp, hopelessly outnumbered, assaulted by crazed, starving, mouth-drooling, pussy-dribbling females. Poor Pete undulated heroically, sacrificing his manly form to their torments. Jack could hear the slurps, nearly feel the tongues as though they painted him. He jealously watched full-blown breasts hovering near Pete's face, as Pete gallantly but uselessly struggled to devour each one of them. 

For three long years Pete’s only company was other men. Three years since Pete had even smelled a woman, let alone felt her touch or tasted any part of her. Now, an overdose, so tantalizingly close to fulfillment, yet so cruelly denied him. Despite this teasing torment, Pete never said a word, never begged for his release or complained about his predicament. Although these females outnumbered him, punished him, controlled him, they never defeated him. Pete Radcliffe remained a man, groaning and grunting and writhing and taking everything they so far had dished out. 

Then, the two men locked eyes. Jack smiled. Pete moaned. "How long they gonna torture me, Jack?"

"Wrestling's fun, ain't it boy?"

Before he could answer, titties were replaced by a juice-drenched pussy hole, as a young daughter of Jacob Nehi lowered herself onto Pete’s face. He inhaled the horrendous smell - the heavenly, horrendous aroma of athletic female loins. His tongue snaked into her darkness, searching for a little peter, already engorged and awaiting his touch. And just when he found it and her body convulsed, the hand of Celeste encircled Pete’s tormented cock and gingerly finger-massaged its swollen head. 

For a man who stood at a height of five feet and ten inches, Pete was a lucky fellow to be endowed with a double-fister. Not only was it a fat and juicy one at  three-quarters of an inch thick, Pete’s cock extended a full five inches above the four fingers of Celeste, making a grand total of nine inches in length. Its hammer-head was a handsomely sculptured mushroom, its rim casting a full half-inch shadow on the shaft below, and with a woman’s fist squeezing that shaft his mushroom bulged, darkening its color from pink to red as beads of pre-come oozed out of the slit to make him shine with a sugar coating.  

Celeste liked it. She said, “Daughters of Nehi, behold."

A reverent hush enveloped the room and all faces were removed from the man's body. Fingers pinched his tits and hands massaged his chest, belly, legs, and feet, while a gaping pussy hole covered his mouth. Spectators hand-rubbed their own vaginas, marking time with legs as though they had to pee, as Jack stroked on his own hardened pecker. All eyes focused on Pete’s cock and a woman’s hand to see Pete fire an initial volley past the hands on his belly, past the hands on his chest, splattering onto the lower back of the face-sitting female. A second bullet slimed the hands on Pete’s chest, while subsequent contractions produced a dotted trail of semen from the hands on his stomach to his belly. 

Celeste squeezed on Pete’s powerful cock from base to head, crushing out all remaining man-seed, and then she delicately laid the mighty weapon to rest. 

Pete glared at the elderly woman, thrusting forward his lower jaw while flexing his chest. It was a display of defiance, a statement, and if there was any doubt remaining for her as to what sort of character had stumbled into her clutches, Pete verbalized it for all of them in a mocking tone. "You beat on me, torture me for hours, and the best you can do is a hand job? You ladies ain’t no fun at all."

Celeste cackled with glee. "Tie his ankles and get this fightin' man ready for the next round."