The Trenton Expedition of 1844

I feared for each of the men as the women gave no care for their safety, and even if this ritual wasn't meant to kill us, I could not be surprised if there were a few fatalities simply by accident. Maybe it would all be over soon. It was a fanciful thought but I was feeling desperate.

Then there was another sound; something like a horn. I looked for only a moment trying to determine its meaning, but before I spotted an answer my scar-faced guard spun me around, pulled the silencer from my mouth and cast it aside, and hoisted me over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I found myself suddenly staring at her large rump and the ground below.

Then I thought she slipped and had dropped me, but she caught me before I fell too far. I then suspected that it wasn't a slip of the hands so much as a shifting of her load, for now my face bounced against her buttocks. But this indignity was not enough for her. She was quite capable of holding me with one arm, so her other arm came behind her and I felt her hand grab the back of my neck. She then pulled my face across her buttock to nestle in the cleavage of her backside.

I was assaulted by the musky aroma of this savage and had no escape. As she walked with me her buttocks moved against my face and with the aid of her hand my face and in fact my head were pressed deeper within the dark chasm. It was difficult to breath and every breath was of this woman's nethers.

I felt a jostling which only battered my face against her dark flesh and I realized that she was carrying me up upon the dais. I had passed between the eight men hardly aware of their plight as I was now in my own dark world. She turned and bent at the knees as if to set me down; and she did after a fashion.

As she squatted almost to the stone surface, she let me slide a few inches, meaning my face slid down between her cheeks, before my head felt the hard floor and she let my body fall behind me. Thus I was now on my back on the dais with my squatting guard inches from my head.

No worry as she quickly moved. That is no worry for her; I had plenty to worry about, for she moved back and came to sit on my face! I suddenly felt her weight crushing upon me and her juices were sliding into my nostrils.

My mouth was held open by the gag and I tried to catch a breath. But what little air could reach me travelled between her cheeks and across her arsehole which must have been an inch or less from my mouth. Thus what little air I received was tainted and tasted of her arse!

Meanwhile I tried to draw air into my nose more by instinct than rational thought, but all that did was to pull more of her juices from her and into my passages. After a few struggled breaths I swear I could feel her juices hitting the back of my throat.

I had closed my eyes by reflex when she sat upon me and now I tried to open my eyes. I could see nothing as her thighs were over the top of my face and head. Trapped in this dark tomb I suddenly had an inkling of what my comrades had endured. The smell and taste of this savage cunny became my world as I tried in vain to catch my breath.

Given my struggle and my newfound fear I didn't even notice the hands upon me at first. However I came to realize that many hands, likely of the small men, were now holding me. It seemed rather unnecessary as I was going nowhere with this woman perched upon my face.

But eventually she rose up and I gulped air, still feeling her juices sliding down my throat. She turned and looked down at me with an expression of pleasure mixed with disdain. And then she walked away. Apparently her time with me was done.

I was glad she was leaving me and more importantly my abused face. The men then drug me to my feet and I was taken a short distance to a wooden log standing upright within some hole in the dais. I don't know just when or how it had been placed but now the little pygmies took great care in securing me to it. As they did so, I was watching them until I was distracted by some movement. It was the queen. She got up from her throne and took a step towards my position. She towered before me and I knew that my time under the guard was nothing compared to what was to come.

Chapter 4

The queen made a gesture to the crowd and then made some slow, simple dance steps. Then she turned to me; or rather her very large backside turned to me, but I knew that was the current focus. She danced backwards, her buttocks marching towards me.

Just before she reached me she moved to the side and continued as if she would end up behind be. But then when we were in line I felt the weight and force of her meaty arse as she slapped it against my face. It knocked my head around such that I was momentarily looking over my shoulder and I wondered if such a blow would produce a bruise.

She made another such move and I thought I might be spared further abuse simply because she could break my neck if she attempted a third. That wasn't to be. However I was still in grave danger from her arse. Now I could smell this woman's savage scent, and I was afraid I might soon detect far worse.

She then drug her enormous backside across my face, pressing harder once she was halfway across. She then moved back the other way and I began to decipher her intentions. Without using her hands, she was using my head to spread her buttocks open and then to press me inside.

The heat was quite noticeable. The jungle isn't a cool place and one gets accustomed, somewhat, to the heat and the damp. But now I was receiving both anew. The heat from between her buttocks was already making me perspire, and there was ample evidence that she too had perspired and often, at least on this part of her body.

The heat and sweat within her crack only baked on the odor into the pores of my face. I could name no animal musk that could compete with the aroma I was experiencing and I felt dizzy. Back and forth her dark flesh moved against me and I concentrated on catching my breath as much as I could.

Her buttocks were immense and although my face was the focal point, I could feel her arse rubbing against my chest at the same time. My face was in her all the way up to my ears. But I didn't realize how shallow that was for a giant such as this woman. She centered herself on my face and with a backward thrust I was suddenly aware I could go much deeper.

I felt her buttocks move against my ears and push back much beyond. I was now very deep in her arse, to the point I feared her buttocks would close in behind my head and leave no trace to the outside world. She pulled away from me slightly but it was only to return and force me deeper, if that were possible. And then I felt something on my face.

There was something like ridges against my cheeks and it felt almost like calluses, though surely not as dry. But then I had to wonder how this woman could get calluses between her buttocks. The only thing between her buttocks should be... And that's when I made a few fearful conclusions. It wasn't calluses I had come in contact with, but rather the ridges and folds of the queen's areshole. As such I was also forced to conclude that like the rest of her body, her arsehole was enormous and could easily cover most of my face.

The next thing that happened was I could feel the crush of her buttocks against my head. Apparently she had decided to squeeze her cheeks together with me deep inside. I could feel the pressure against me was quite serious but the action also worked to expel my face somewhat from the dangerous proximity of her dark hole.

However when she stopped clenching my head and face and relaxed while pushing back against me, it was almost as if she could push out her anus. My whole body went stiff when I felt her damp arsehole make contact with my nose and mouth.

I tried to retreat from her but I had nowhere to go. I had no way to draw in my nose and the best I could manage was to pull my lips back into my mouth. And yet her areshole was still there; it became my world. It pushed against me and then drew away by only a fraction, as if her arsehole was alive and it was breathing on me.

This was an unbelievable torture. My face was trapped in a dark, steamy oven of her flesh, the hot, musky air filling my lungs, and all the while her enormous arsehole abused my face. I felt it shift against me, and soon it moved across my forehead and I was forced to close my eyes.

My whole face had become wet, no doubt a mix of her sweat and mine but then I noticed something different. As she worked her arsehole against me and I felt the rhythms of her pulsing dark ring, as she pushed back hard against my features there was a new sensation in my face. It was still wet but there was a thickness to it.

My mind didn't want to accept it, but the only answer I could come up with was a mucous from her body. She was pushing me deep enough into her that I experienced the slime of her inner arse! If I could have I would have retched. My whole body did spasm at the thought but I was trapped in this hell with no way out.

Days passed before she eased away from my face, but in the corner of my mind a voice told me I had been in her oven for less than a minute. I wanted to thrash that voice for a liar but I could not. Instead I tried to catch my breath and let the air cool my heated skin.

Somewhere I knew the queen was dancing near me, but I didn't care. The ritual and ceremony were of less interest to me now, since I had moved from spectator to participant. I hadn't even heard anyone approach when I felt the rope tug against my neck.

A second later I could not ignore the rope as it choked me. My head banged against the log and I could feel myself trying to bore through it, as if that were possible. The rope had been crossed behind my neck and thus the log provided no gap or safety to me. As the rope tightened and I continued to choke I felt my own tongue squeezed from my head.

Somewhere my mind made a discovery. While my body thrashed, spasmed, and fought for survival, my mind realized why I might have not joined the other eight men on the poles. It seemed such a silly oversight now, but I was blessed with a longer than average tongue. In fact my tongue had won me several bets in several different pubs as I was able to touch both my nose and chin.

There had been other more inventive games and bets, some of which could only be held in private. But now I believed I had been singled out for the queen, for my tongue, out of all the expedition, best matched the size of her body. Of course it must still seem small to her but my tongue was likely what had landed me in this particular situation.

My body fought to remind me of its distress and my thoughts came back to my peril, both present and imminent. As expected and feared I saw her large arse moving once again towards me, no doubt with some dark expectation. And there was no escape.

While I didn't see her do it, I think this time she was using her hands to spread her cheeks, for my face went deeper with less pressure on the side on my head and I could better see the dark and shiny hole as it approached my tongue.

When my tongue made contact she stopped. I couldn't truly keep still as I was still choking and trying to breathe to save my life. And so the tip of my tongue still wiggled against her and that was something she intended to savor. It might have been seen as a tease and not torture where I not in fear for my life.

But that wasn't to last. She pushed her body against me and my tongue was forced inside her arsehole, followed by my nose and mouth. It was indescribable. Such a thing should not even be possible, but her large size compared to mine made it so.

She pressed and moved against me and I feared she was trying to swallow my whole head inside her sphincter. My face was already covered in her arse slime and I had been forced to taste and swallow more of it than I could contemplate.

She moved away from me and I choked on air and arse juice. But it was only momentary. She came back to me and her arse found my tongue and face once more. I was teetering on the brink of death, but all she cared about was making use of my face and tongue to please her.

My eyes began to roll back into my head and sounds changed as if I was in a tunnel or well. My vision blurred but it made little difference to the spectacle taking place before me. I was sure I was about to pass out and maybe never wake again.

I felt a release at my throat and my breath left my body. My head hung limp and I wondered how I would be remembered. I still had so many more discoveries planned. It was a new age and now I may see no more of it. I drifted on clouds rising higher and higher.

And then the splash on my face brought me back. I wasn't dead and for a split second I was disappointed. Then the splash moved across my nose and mouth and I was having to swallow as it filled me. The salty liquid which had awakened me was now threatening to drown me.

As my senses regained my dread returned and I became aware that we had moved on to the next stage of the evening's ceremony. I hadn't been splashed with water, but rather the queen was now pissing on my face and now down my throat.

I coughed and sputtered but the little that escaped my mouth and ran over my cheeks and chin, did nothing to slow the volume I was taking into my throat and stomach. She was filling me beyond measure but it just continued. I would have done anything to make it stop.

But it didn't stop. I just kept swallowing and fighting for air, gagging at times, and knowing that some of her piss had made it into my lungs. And yet it just kept coming. She was a large woman and no doubt had a bladder to match. I wondered how her bladder compared in size to my stomach and I was afraid.

I felt myself getting full to the point of adding a new discomfort to my present torture. And still her piss flowed. My mind questioned why I simply didn't close my mouth and was answered as I realized the gag had been replaced at some point, no doubt during my death delirium.

I then felt a blast of piss on my face, and then another. Could it be she was finally coming to an end? She must have been for soon she grabbed my head pushed it downward, straining my neck and forcing me to look at the ground below. And then she wiped her large cunny over my head and hair several times in an effort to wipe away any remaining urine.

I felt a new level of defeat and I didn't bother to raise my head when she let go and stepped away. I did manage to cough up some of the foul liquid and I was aware than even though she was no longer pissing down my throat it wasn't really over. I could still feel the salty broth filling my belly and the salty, sour taste still filled my mouth.

Pain brought me back to the moment. I had been tortured, along with my mates, in many ways but I hadn't really been experiencing pain. But I was in pain now as someone had taken a cane or similar implement and whipped my balls.

I cried out and a little more of the queen's piss was ejected from my mouth. Thankfully the whipping did not continue, as I think it was only meant to ensure I was awake for the next stage. The queen was approaching my face once again and this time my focus was on her dark cunny.

The dark, black forest of her nethers could hide an army and although I had close experience with it moments ago I had seen little. I had kept my eyes closed for the most part and even when open it was the spray and stream of piss that had my focus.

But now I knew my face would get to explore that forest and I couldn't help but wonder how many other explorers had come before me. There was little evidence of a king within the tribe and surely the pygmy men would not be able to satisfy this woman, this living goddess.

She stepped closer and I knew I was about to learn more of her secrets. Her coarse hairs danced across my face as she made introductions. Her hair not only covered my face but as she swayed side to side it felt like there were miles of it in either direction.

And then she pushed forward and I went deeper into her forbidden jungle. The scent of her was overpowering. I felt it flow into my body. Her aroma and her hairs made a blanket over my face. That blanket gave me an odd feeling of safety. Perhaps it was just the difference from what else I had endured.

Then I felt her cunny touch my face. Again I was forced to come to terms with the size of it. I knew I was only feeling a part of it and yet it touched so much of me. Then it pressed against me, squeezing and hugging my face. This woman was like no other and my face was an offering for her.

Indeed I was meant to be a sacrifice for this goddess and yet I couldn't deny that it was in some way an honor. My comrades had suffered similar tortures to what I was experiencing, but how could those women compare to this giantess and her sacred body.

Soon a different wetness covered my face and she moved herself against me. I felt her hands on my head, guiding me further into her. Once again I struggled to breathe but this time I had less care.

She pushed into my face and my face was enveloped by her. Her cunny, larger even than her arsehole, could easily accommodate my face and possibly my entire head. She gyrated and I felt myself falling into her; I was being unborn.

A part of me knew she was having pleasure at my very serious expense, but it was like another world. My world was here inside her, my purpose was to please her. What I had done before, good or bad, was over. This was it.

I knew I would never leave this cunny but strangely I found acceptance. I was an offering to this African Goddess, and I only hoped I was a worthy sacrifice. Her juices infused me and all was quiet. There was a distant choir but it only served to rejoice in my union with this divine being.

I felt her move against me, and then, slowly, like the night; like the jungles I had explored; like the fears of my past; like the peoples of the land; and like the body and sacred spaces of my goddess...all went dark.

In another part of the world, a civilized part of the world, where cities grew and mankind wrote of scientific discoveries, a hand made its way across the page of a heavy ledger. The hand knew no fear and had always felt safe. It never ventured into the wilds of this continent or any other.

The hand, whose only sign of a rough life was the small callous near the tip of the first finger, now held a metal pen. Then the hand slid across the parchment matching the ledger lines searching for its intended mark.

The ledger listed various expeditions taken on for Queen and country. Now on the line which held the name of the Trenton Expedition it moved to the right side of the page. It paused under the heading of 'status'.

Then hand moved to inkwell and dipped the pen. With ink on the nib it returned to its place on the page. With sure strokes in filled in the box of the column. Thus the status of the Trenton Expedition was listed as 'lost'. Such was the fate of many expeditions. But these costs were offset by the discoveries of the more successful.

The End