The Amazonians (CFNM)

The Amazonians

It had been three weeks since I woke up in this place. I flew down to Quito, Ecuador for a friend’s wedding, and thought I would explore and hike, and take in some of the beautiful scenery of this part of the world. Then I got lost. Being the arrogant man I am, I figured I could hike these mountains by myself. While I was lost, a storm came and the rain was relentless. I slipped and fell on some rocks, and must have knocked myself out.

When I woke up, it was morning, and I had bandages on my right thigh and around my head. My vision was blurry, but I made out multiple figures wandering around me. They were tall, slender, and caramel-colored. As my sight returned, I saw that they were women. They were all women. Tall, strong, breathtaking warrior women. They brought me water and changed my bandages. I had figured, considering the compassionate care they’d shown me while I was injured, that they would simply allow me to go on my way once I was healed.

But, they had other plans. By the time I was well enough to walk, they had me performing odd tasks and duties. Chopping wood, fetching water, whatever they needed at the time. While I was recovering, I was provided with a thin sheet to cover myself. Now, however, I was given no clothing whatsoever. The women’s standard attire seemed to be a low cut top that barely covered their nipples, and a basic, minimal loincloth. Both seemed to be made of animal hide. It was not unusual to see some of the women without tops or completely nude sometimes.

I was naked all of the time. The temperature was always what I would have considered “room temperature” back home, so there was not a concern of being too cold. A few of the women spoke basic, broken English. The phrase most commonly said to me was, “You no leave.”

While the women were intimidating in their stature and strength, they were stunningly feminine and breathtaking, too. They were graceful and limber. I was never sure whether I should be completely aroused or terrified of them. Most of the time, I was both.

My assigned tasks have evolved over three weeks. The hard labor and grunt work from before turned into more personalized, more intimate assistance for what I assumed to be some of the most influential of the tribe. Zula, the fiercest warrior, had me massage her feet every night. Sometimes I would massage her legs, glutes, back, or wherever she was sore that day.

Mesma, the softest, most compassionate of them, made use of me to help her bathe in the river. I would disrobe her, and lay her top and cloth to the side for cleaning later. She would then lay on the sandy bank of the river’s edge, and I would lather her in the tribe’s herbal soap. I was expected to be thorough, to wash and scrub even her most intimate areas. When I was finished with her top, she’d flip over, and I’d lather and rinse the back of her body. Despite always fearing for my life, it was impossible to withhold my arousal while I bathed Mesma.

Then there was Anka, the unquestionable leader of the tribe. Anka was maybe in her late thirties, but her eyes suggested she’d seen a lifetime’s worth of struggle. She had difficulty with her mobility some days, which seemed impossible when you take in the majesty of her figure. Anka was not the tallest or strongest of the women, but she was certainly one of, if not the most beautiful. Her calves, thighs and behind were round and curvy. Her wide hips then cinched into a narrow waist. Anka had some of the fullest, most alluring breasts of any of the tribe’s women.

On days where she struggled to move, I was like her personal assistant. I’d help her out of her sleeping hammock in the morning, then I’d wash her entire body with a bowl of soap and water. We always stayed in her upper class hut. I assumed it was because she did not want the other women to perceive her as weak if she needed help walking to the river for bathing.

At night, I would often massage Anka, too. The massages usually ended with me pleasing her with my fingers, and sometimes my mouth. It was a strange feeling. Here I was, pleasuring this unearthly attractive woman, yet I’m also being held captive. I knew that if I were to try and escape, the archers along the perimeter of their land would take me down. The archers were always on duty, and they never missed.

Last night, it seemed as if it would end as many others had. I was in Anka’s chief hut, and my tongue had her close to orgasm. Her shimmery brown legs quivered as the rush of pleasure was close to washing over her. Then, abruptly, she pulled my head up from between her legs, and she pulled me by my arms up onto her body. She reached down to my cock, which was rock hard and ready to explode.

Her hazel eyes peered into mine and her intentions were unquestionable. She was the ultimate decider, but it almost seemed as if she was seeking my permission. Then she directed my hard shaft into her hot, wet opening. We both let out moans of relief and pleasure. She took my hands and placed them on her bare breasts, where her dark brown nipples were hard and erect. Anka’s arms and legs wrapped around my body, and she guided my hips up and down, while she trusted up from her missionary position.

It did not take long before we were both coming. Anka’s screams must have been heard throughout the valley. I shot several streams into the depths of her body. I had never felt so emptied before. As I slowly pulled out of her, I watched the globs of my white hot come ooze out of her flushed pussy.

Anka kept me in her hut that night, where she held onto me tightly until the sunrise. I never fell more than half asleep, not knowing whether this newly forged connection would benefit or hurt me.

It was yesterday that I lay in Anna’s hammock with her as she woke for the day. I went about my normal chores, including a private bathing session in the privacy of her hut. She had to tend to leadership duties and sent me off to whichever high ranking woman needed me.

I hadn’t been away from the leader for more than a few minutes when Mesma pulled me to assist her. First, she instructed me to clean her modest tent. She watched me labor and sipped what I assumed to be an alcoholic beverage I often saw them drinking. I had learned that it was not acceptable for me to look at the women directly unless I was being spoken to. I couldn’t be sure, but I could swear she was touching herself while my naked body sweat, bent and lifted in front of her.

Next she directed me to the river for her bath, which was a relief to cool off after the strenuous workout. Mesma was extra sensitive to my touch today. She was a little shorter and stalkier than the other women; she had more of a typical body type as most women I’ve seen in my life.

As I lathered her chest with soap, she gently arched her back to raise her large, rounded breasts higher. Her tanned nipples were already hardened with arousal. I worked the lather down to her eager mounds, and her breathing deepened. Her eyes were closed and she leaned into my hands as they covered her top half with soap.

While I touched her torso, her body seemed desperate to guide me straight to her pleasure zone. When I reached her waistline, she was nearly panting, and moaning softly. I ran my hands along her groin. I was hard and dripping precum at this point. My cock pointed directly at her face. Her eyes seemed to suggest she wanted to taste.

I softly groaned as I washed the folds of her labia. I paid extra attention to her stiffened clit. She seemed to be on the edge of coming. The Amazonian women could be temperamental and unpredictable, so I decided to continue with the bathing to try and avoid punishment.

Her breathing slowed while I washed her thick, muscular legs. She turned around and I washed her back. Then her arms. Lastly was her ass. This part of the bathing ritual was typically thorough, but quick. I had the feeling, however, that Mesma would want extra attention this time.

After rinsing her glutes, she began moaning again when I touched the top of her crack. Moving down, I slowly circled her forbidden hole, and continued under, back to her pussy. She raised her hips, encouraging more.

With more soap lathered, I teased her asshole more convincingly. Her moaning turned to grunts, and she uttered words under her breath in her native language.
Her tailbone peaked up high while I rubbed her hole. More of her native words suggested she was growing impatient with me.

Hoping that I had interpreted her correctly, I plunged my middle finger into her asshole. A guttural groan escaped her throat, and it seemed to be what she had wanted. The rustling of a small group of women approaching interrupted the fingering. Mesma stood quickly, and briskly walked me back to her hut.

She grabbed a bowl of oil and layed down, her body begging for more. I squeezed and massaged her ass, and admired how firm and toned it was, considering she was one of the least athletic of the group. Again, her pelvis raised towards me, inviting me to enter her.

This time, I let my finger slip into her eager pussy. She accepted gladly. Her hips bucked and gyrated, and her moans became louder. Mesma reached back to grip my pulsing cock and she directed me to penetrate her with my hardness.

I mounted her quickly, and eased my aching length into her desperate hole. Her moans were more like screams now, and I didn’t think of it at the time, but they were sure to attract attention. Unaffected, I thrusted into her tight, slippery hole and quickened my pace.

The sound of her cries were orgasmic by themselves. Near her tipping point, Mesma reached her hand back to stroke her asshole. She seemed frustrated with the angle, so I took over and sunk my middle finger back into her other hole.

She howled so loud it seemed to shake the tent. I was nearing my edge, and I could feel her muscles constricting around my finger. Once she let out her first screams of relief, I let myself loose, and felt my rush of hot liquid approaching.

I shot my seed deep into her. I imagined the first few streams stung her insides with their velocity. Mesma’s breath slowed and her muscles relaxed. I laid there for a moment, absorbing the afterglow. Then I heard voices and footsteps approaching.

Before I could fully pull myself out of her, Anka and her guards were at the entrance of Mesma’s tent. Anka looked enraged. My lovers yelled at one another in their language and I watched cluelessly. Anka motioned to me. Then her two guards approached me and pulled me out of the tent by my arms. They were so strong, I had no chance of successfully resisting.

As I was escorted away from the tent, the two continued arguing. It was a long walk. The guards led me to a vacant tent, away from the others. They threw me in, closed the flap, and stood outside to make sure I didn’t leave.

The bare tent, not unlike a jail cell, is where I woke up today, and it’s where I still am. I’m guessing it’s late morning. I fear that I’ll be tortured and killed. Or I might go back to Anka’s hut and return to being her servant. My mind spins.

I hear footsteps stomping toward my jail tent. The two guards open the flap for their leader to walk through. Anka stands there, her face expressionless. Never before had the line between my life and my death been so thin

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/hcyx7h/the_amazonians_cfnm