Message-ID: <42354asstr$1052385002@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: punchinello@pulperotica.com (Punchinello) X-Original-Message-ID: <250d5f9c.0305072235.25b8a16b@posting.google.com> Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit NNTP-Posting-Date: 8 May 2003 06:35:34 GMT X-ASSTR-Original-Date: 7 May 2003 23:35:33 -0700 Subject: {ASSM} Dance of the Scorpion Girl (fM,MF,fF) Pulp Story! Date: Thu, 8 May 2003 05:10:02 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, IceAltar Dance of the Scorpion Girl She entertained the sailors with exotic rituals...and her many other charms! DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. If you are offended by sexually explicit material or are under the age of 18, stop reading now. This material cannot be reproduced for commercial purposes without the consent of the author. MORE PULP EROTICA STORIES AND ART AT http://www.pulperotica.com! Dance of the Scorpion Girl (fM, Mf, fF) By: Punchinello South Seas Islands, 1919 The native drums beat a wild tattoo. The torches around the beach flickered and sputtered. The night was cool, and a quick wind came in off the sea and up the sandy beach. The British sailors, in their starched white uniforms, passed the bottle and sat in quiet tension as the evening's entertainment began. From the darkness beyond the torches came a girl, perhaps sixteen, perhaps eighteen--it was hard to tell with the small island girls. Her brown skin was smooth and glowing. She danced with quick, swaying hips in the lewd island style, small breasts shaking, bare and shameless. A modest little wrap covered her loins, but only barely. She was beautiful: graceful and primitive at the same time, mesmerizing and tantalizing--out of reach, but only barely. The beads around her neck shook and clacked. The black hair that framed her face thrashed wildly around her. Her face was a mask of concentration and serenity, but from time to time she looked at the men: their fine dress whites stood out against the dark of the evening beach. Their eyes were locked on her every movement. Lieutenant Michaels sat among them in the center, a tallish man with a lean and calm face, sparkling bright eyes. This entertainment was largely for his benefit: the sailors wanted their lieutenant to see the girl who danced with scorpions. The scorpions came out soon enough. The mesmerizing young girl collapsed with the final beat of the drums. She was helped away by the short, thick-limbed drummers--out beyond the torches, where everything suddenly fell into shadow. But it was a ruse. She was back in a moment, this time with a burlap sack. The beat rose again, another heavy South Seas tattoo, a relentless pounding that could drive a man to madness. From the sack came a scorpion, which she placed upon her head. Then came another...and another. She danced to the pounding rhythm of the drums, shaking her perfect young breasts, thrusting her hips, and let the deadly black Jujongo scorpions crawl over her head and shoulders. But she wasn't done. As the sailors looked on, utterly spellbound, the young native girl pulled an enormous centipede from the bag before tossing it away. She leaned back, pointing her naked breasts at the night sky, and placed the poisonous red Tsinga centipede--fully twelve inches long--on her chest. The fearsome creature crawled over her flawless flesh, confidently crawling over her beaded necklace and through her hair. The men watched in awe as the girl untied her wrap and let it flutter away in the wind, revealing her completely--naked and primitive--and letting the centipede crawl down her bare back, between her legs, and up through her trim black bush. They gasped as the girl opened her mouth, and the scorpions crawled across and down her face. And their balls clenched as one of the foul little creatures pinched her hard, brown nipple with its wicked little claw. One by one, other girls appeared to pull the deadly creatures off her. And one by one, they went into the sack again, carefully, delicately. At last, the thumping of the drums halted with a guttural shout, and the drunken sailors erupted in thunderous applause, whistling and hooting like monkeys. The girl caught her breath and tied her floral wrap around her waist again, once again covering the curly black mound between her thighs. She looked out over the men and issued a challenge, "Who will do it also?" The British sailors were silent. "Who will take the scorpions on his face?" Her dark eyes flashed. "Do it, leftenant!" the drunken Hodgkins cried. And the others hooted encouragement. It was, after all, the lieutenant's night out. And he was, after all, the least drunk among them. "Let's see you up there, Hodgkins," Michaels grinned. "Who will do it? I will love him all night," the girl said in her broken English. "I give good love, like girl back home." "They don't give love at all!" Philips laughed, and all the men broke out in laughter. "Do the dance of the scorpion, with me," the girl dared them. "I need brave man to love me all over." She ran her hands down her nearly-bare body to her shapely hips and gave them a shake that rattled the sailor's teeth. "Go ahead, Hodgkins," taunted another man. "Have a go at her!" Hodkins was not a man known for courage "Aw, it's the lieutenant's night out," Hodgkins said. "He should have it." All the men encouraged him, even raising Michaels up off the sand. In a moment, the tall, slim junior officer stood up with the girl, who made him get down on his knees. "That ain't the first time a woman's brought the leftenant to his knees, I'll bet!" Tinker shouted out. And the others guffawed and shouted "Not 'alf!" The girl was very close now, her small round breasts almost touching the man. "I am Malu Hai," she said quietly. "Charmed," Michaels said. "I'm Lieutenant Richard Michaels of the Royal Navy." He was just drunk enough to make a clumsy gesture to shake hands, but she ignored it. "The scorpions and centipede will not sting you," she said in a whisper. "You see. They friendly if you not make them cross." "I shall do my utmost, miss, I assure you," he said. "I love you good, sailor. Tonight, the men will say you very brave, and I will love you all over." She ran her hand down her chest. He wondered if she could feel the pounding of his heart. The drums started up again, and Malu Hai pulled a scorpion out of the burlap sack. She gently tilted the junior officer's head back and placed the creature on the exposed nape of his neck. Then she began to undo the necktie and shirt collar of his officer's uniform. Michaels could hardly dare to move, but the girl quiet casually undressed him, pulling his shirt open and exposing his chest. The men laughed and shouted encouragement, but the girl was silent. Malu Hai pulled another scorpion from the back and placed it on Michaels's shoulder. "Are they deadly?" he asked quietly. "Yes, very," said the girl, and her breasts rubbed against him as she placed the final scorpion. They crawled on his face and shoulders, up into his hair. The drums pounded. The girl stroked his smooth, bare chest. She rubbed her almost-naked body against him and urged him to move with her. Slowly, Michaels began to gyrate, arms out, shoulders moving to the rhythm of the relentless drums. Malu Hai placed the centipede on her own naked chest and let it crawl between them. "I fuck you good tonight, sailor," she whispered, "I do it every way." She pressed a soft, wet kiss on his open mouth and sucked his tongue. The entertainment went on a little longer, with other girls dancing together with fiery torches, but without Michaels or Malu Hai. They went directly to her hut a little ways into the jungle. She pushed at his clothes, tossing them away as quickly as she could. He caressed her body, loving the perfect brown smoothness of her skin. His prick strained at his dress trousers, but not for long. She pulled them down and freed it with a happy gasp. "It's wonderful!" she squealed. Soon, they were both naked, her little wrap tossed aside with his starched white uniform and her bag of deadly animals. His long, lean body loomed over her small, brown one in the dim light of the hut. She pulled him eagerly down on her, lusty for his long, slender prick. His heart pounded still, especially as he pushed his purple knob against her moist cunny lips. They both gasped as he entered her, slow and smooth, pressing deep but not rough. She held him back, then pulled him forward, arching her back, spreading her legs a little more. She tossed her head and moaned heavily as his cock slid home and the hairy base pressed against her clitoris. "Oh! Oh, sailor!" she groaned. "Fuck me tonight," she pleaded. "It's so good!" He thrust and thrust again, amazed at his luck in finding suck an eager young girl, so beautiful and shapely. He caressed her breasts, kissed her forehead, and rutted fervently. "Oh, yes, you sweet girl," he whispered. "You little island temptress! Unh!" His thrusts came faster and harder, moving the girl back and forth, shaking her small, soft breasts. "Oh yes! Ohh!" she moaned, and suddenly seized up tight, and trembled in a silent spasm of fleshly pleasure. Her cunny constricted and squeezed Michaels's cock hard, making him fuck all the harder, desperate for release of his own. "G-- God! Oh! Ohh!" he groaned finally, and shoved hard into her to plant his manly seed. His prick spurted inside her again and again, pouring his sperm into her warm hole in great globs--globs that became sticky strands when he finally withdrew and let his softening prick rub up and down her slick, pink slit. And that was only the start. Michaels explored the girl's many talents for love that night, including her precious, small mouth surrounding his hardened tool, and his own mouth pressed hard against her moist lust hole, licking up her juices until she gasped and squealed and pulled his hair. At last, they lay together on the pallet and stroked each other's weary, naked bodies. "You love good, sailor," Malu Hai said tenderly. "You give girl many pleasures. You have girl back home?" "Yes," he admitted. "An Irish girl--Shivon. She's a sweet girl, too. Nothing like you, of course, in looks." He lay back in her arms and thought of his girl. "She's willowy and pale, with little freckles all over. Freckles, you know? Little dots." Malu Hai caressed him and kissed him softly. In the morning, Lieutenant Michaels washed up in the little wash basin on Malu Hai's only table. Then he dressed in his uniform again, just getting ready as the girl finally rose. In seconds, she slipped her wrap around her waist and was just as ready for the day as he. "What will you do today, eh?" he asked. "What does an island girl do?" "I get food," she said, head cocked in thought. "Then I go to the scorpion cave. I will get another scorpion, I think. Do you want to see?" Michaels thought. The others wouldn't expect him back before noon. His duty didn't start again until later that evening, when another junior officer would have the night off. Manning a shore battery on these little islands was not demanding duty, particularly since they hadn't seen a German ship for weeks. They hiked through the jungle with only a machete and an empty burlap sack. Malu Hai led the way with confidence, finding the impossibly well-hidden cave in less than an hour. Still, Michaels was sorry he hadn't gone back to camp to change into work clothes. If he ruined his dress uniform, there would be hell to pay. But all such selfish thoughts drained away when they stepped into the little cave with a makeshift torch. Michaels had lit with a Diablo match so that Malu Hai wouldn't have to use the flint that she kept at the entrance, and she had been very grateful. But now, the light of the torch showed strange markings on the walls--scorpions, he thought, probably painted a thousand years before. "Incredible," he breathed. "No scorpions," Malu Hai observed, searching the ground. She pulled him along, saying, "Deeper." Michaels left his jacket and tie at the entrance at went deeper in with her, through a narrow passage and into a sort of smooth-walled tunnel that seemed to be carved out lava rock. The sailor guessed that an ancient volcano had caused this, the molten lava passing on as the outer layer cooled into a long shaft. But even as he speculated on the strange geology, Michaels found himself marveling at the moving creatures on the floor. Scorpions of all sizes littered the ground; centipedes went among them; beetles and other creeping insects, worms, and worse crawled all through, so that every step was a disgusting choice between poisonous death and filthy muck. How the barefoot girl could stand it was beyond him. "Many scorpions here," said Malu Hai. "I never go so far. Very strange." Michaels's British pluck was about to give up when his next step nearly brought him to collide with the girl. She murmured something in her own language, a prayer or a curse, it seemed, for she was frozen to the spot and stared straight ahead. "What is it?" Michaels asked. "Scorpion," the girl breathed. Michaels picked a small clutch of tar-soaked reeds from the reed torch and, making sure it was good and fiery, tossed it forward into the darkness. Suddenly, there before him, lit like the devil himself in flickering flames, was an scorpion of gigantic size. "Christ almighty," he muttered. The gigantic arachnid turned full about and skittered to one side, much quicker than Michaels would have imagined it could. "We've stumbled in hell," the sailor breathed. Malu Hai brandished the machete. Without warning, the creature lunged forward, snapping with enormous claws fully two feet wide, its fearsome tail hanging high above them with a wicked, curled spike of a stinger wet with poison. Michaels brandished the torch--his only weapon--and took the native girl by the arm. "We've got to get out of here," he urged. But the creature lunged forward again, throwing its tail and forcing the couple to fling themselves against a wall of the cavern. Then the scorpion--twenty feet long, Michaels judged--was between them and the exit. "Give me the machete," he demanded. But the girl was already out in front of him, waving it confidently. The scorpion lashed out with its claw and caught the blade a glancing blow. Still, it was enough to knock it from Malu Hai's grasp. Michaels caught her before she fell and jabbed the torch at the awful monster. As he helped her to her feet, dragging her backwards to relative safety, Malu Hai clutched his arm. "Here! This way! There is a passage!" Indeed, there was a very narrow passage they could just squeeze through; and quickly they slipped through it into a small chamber with a sandy floor. The monster scorpion snapped at the crevice with one huge claw, but it was much too narrow even for that. "That monster's trapped in this cave. It's too big to get out. I wonder what it eats," Michaels said. "I saw dead rats and birds," Malu Hai said, clinging to him desperately. "Bats also, I think." "The other creatures in there must live on its droppings and food scraps, as if it's some kind of king." Michaels' head was swimming. "Do your people have tales about such a creature?" "No," Malu Hai said. "That is an evil monster. It is not like other scorpions. It wants to kill us." "I'm sure, to it, we're just fresh meat," the sailor said. They sat all day, hunger gnawing at them, waiting for the giant scorpion to move away, deeper into the cavern. Hours passed, until their reed torch began to sputter, casting an even dimmer light on the little chamber. Michaels put it out, deciding they would rest through part of the night and light it in the morning for another try. Malu Hai clung to him, pressing her nearly-naked form against him in the darkness, and kissed his earlobe softly, wetly. The fire he had felt for her the night before rose again in this underground prison, and Michaels kissed her gently. His kissed were answered with urgent passion. Malu Hai pushed at his clothes, peeling them off and tossing them aside. There, in the silence and darkness, a few creeping things sharing their chamber, the lovers coupled on the sandy floor. Michaels found the native girl's precious hole moist and ready. His hard cock slid inside and filled her up, making her moan softly and pull him fervently. She gasped and writhed under him, clutching at his back, pulling him down to kiss her sweet mouth, finally breathing in his ear, "Pleasure me like a white girl. Hard. So good and hard." The sailor's muscular buttocks pressed his pelvis against hers, their sexes meshing wetly, desperately. The soft moans of the girl, fucking and being fucked, mixed with the crude slap of flesh as the navy man's cock pounded her like the rhythm of the drums she loved to dance to. "Ah! Oh! Ah, yes! Oh! Fuck! Fuck, me, sailor! Ohh!" The girl was lost suddenly in a long, keening moan that made Michaels's balls boil and burst with heavy spurts of creamy sperm, shooting up inside her small body. "I'm coming!" he gasped. "I'm coming inside you, you beautiful little cunt!" "Oh yes! Oh yes!" She took his ejaculation willingly inside her, spreading her legs all the wider to take it deeper. His thrusting continued unrelenting until at last, Malu Hai was lost in a stammering, gasping moan in her native language as her body writhed in ecstatic spasms of female orgasm. That night, in his dreams, Michaels saw his love back home, Shivon, naked and beautiful, reclining on her white linen bed. Her pale pink breasts pointed at the ceiling; her red pussy fur was curly and moist. Then, a long, black centipede slithered out of the sheets and over her pale belly. It crept across her small breasts and her pale throat. She was lost in sexual pleasure, her eyes closed, her head back, red hair falling in unruly locks across her face and pillows. Then, between her wide-spread legs, there came little Malu Hai, a slip of a girl even next to slender Shivon. The native girl's smooth, brown skin was dark against the Irish girl's white thighs. She kissed Shivon's soft flesh, licked the tiny freckles, and slipped her tongue between the moist pink lips of her pussy. Brown-skinned Malu Hai licked and sucked his white-skinned love's wet cunt, making her thrash and moan. She ran her hands through the younger girl's dark hair, pressing her head deeper into her willing sex. At last Malu Hai's pussy sucking sent Shivon into a frenzy, with bucking hips and grateful cries of lust and pleasure. They cuddled up together on the white bed, naked and shameless. Shivon idly ran her long fingers through the native girl's thick, black bush and massaged her moist slit. They kissed softly, Shivon's thin, bloodless lips against Malu Hai's full, red ones, and caressed each other's small, soft breasts in perfect bliss. When they awoke a few hours later, Michaels struck another match and lit the torch again. It took light easily enough, but still sputtered and smoked. Malu Hai held it high while the sailor ventured through the crevice to look for the monster scorpion. The cavern beyond was clear, he saw, but the machete was lost in the darkness somewhere. Malu Hai passed him the torch, and he held it high. There, deeper in, was the machete. And there, shiny black and alert, was the monstrous scorpion. Without waiting any longer, Michaels dashed out and retrieved the machete from the crawling muck where it lay. The monster made a quick, but feinting, advance and fell back. Michaels passed the torch back to Malu Hai. "Go behind me," he said. "Go out." "What will you do?" she asked, already moving. "I will kill it." The creature galloped forward, no feint this time, and snapped with its wicked claws. Michaels chopped at them savagely with a clanging blade and backed toward the exit passage. If he could get far enough back, it's tail wouldn't have the height it needed to strike, and he could chop off his claws without much worry. But he underestimated the monster's strength. In a terrifying display of speed and power, the scorpion lashed out and pulled the machete out of Michaels's hands. The blade clattered against the rock walls even as the two made it to the passage out. "Machete!" cried Malu Hai. And suddenly she leaped back to get it. Michaels tried to intervene, but it was too late. The monster struck like a flash of lightning and impaled the small girl on its hideous, curled stinger. The poison pumped through her like a fountain and spurted on the wall. The girl waved the machete in utter futility for a moment, before losing her grip and dropping it. Michaels scrambled for the blade and wielded it in one hand and the torch in the other. He chopped at the creature's massive claw as it clutched at Malu Hai's legs and severed it completely. It immediately backed off and dropped its drooping tail further, allowing the native girl to slide of the stinger and collapse on the cavern floor. Michaels scooped her up and dragged her toward the escape, swinging clumsily with the torch in his free hand. Squeezing through the narrow passage, chopping at the grasping claw that tried to pull him back and cut his uniform, Michaels lay Malu Hai down and pressed his attack. The narrow space confined his swings and kept him from doing more than chopping great gashes into the creature's remaining claw. When the monster retreated for a moment, Michaels swept up the girl again and dragged her out into the main corridor, where he could see the light from the entrance beckoning him to freedom. In a few moments, he was out into the moonlit night, bright by comparison to the stagnant darkness of the cave, and tossed aside the machete and torch to look over Malu Hai. But the girl was gray and insensible. Her breathing was shallow and fading. The young lieutenant stood up and shouted with all this might, "Help! Help us! British sailors, come and help us!" But it was for naught. The jungle night was still and quiet. Only the chatter of birds and other jungle creatures broke the silence. Malu Hai slipped away in his arms, pale and shivering, bloody and wordless. MORE PULP EROTICA STORIES AND ART AT http://www.pulperotica.com! -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}| |Archive at Hosted by | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+