Teen/Girl/Semi-Con/Torture/Cannibalism/Crucifixion/Gang-Rape/Tribal/Exhibitionism

Debbie’s Deliciously Deadly Debut
By
Edward Hyde


“Five minutes!” Gustav, the director informed her, sticking his head into the small hut the team were using as a base. Debbie nodded wordlessly, sitting on a folding chair amidst stacks of supplies, recording equipment and other ephemera which had to be kept out of the way of the cameras. It was hard to describe what she felt in her stomach. A mixture of fear and excitement mixed with pride and a fair helping of arousal. She really had no other feeling to compare this to but that was to be expected. After all, how could she have ever been in such a situation before? It was the very epitome of “once in a lifetime”!

In just five minutes, some of the nice woman of the village who had washed her earlier in the river, filmed intimately but from a discrete distance by Gustav and his team of course, would come to collect her and lead her out into the middle of the village where the entire community would be waiting to participate in her death. At just thirteen years old, she was going to die, naked in in exquisite pain, her death filmed to be seen by millions! The women had not addressed her directly while preparing her and, although she could not speak any of their language, it was clear from the way they laughed together, groping party of her body then playfully grabbing their own, that they were intrigued and amused by her European form and how it differed from girls her age from their own community. Some gestures, however, were universal and their lip-smacking and belly-rubbing made it clear to her that they were looking forward to the afternoon’s feast!

In her briefing, Gustav had explained that this ritual began with prisoners of war but, since this particular tribe had lived in peace with their neighbours for decades now, it had become more of a playful re-enactment, the girls obtained through trade with their neighbours, and this year they had accepted his offer of her as a gift in exchange for the right to film their lives and customs for a week. It was sure to make a riveting documentary but that was not Gustav’s only goal in this project. With increasing industrialisation of the country, the cities ever expanding and with them the need for farm land, more and more of these traditional communities were being forced off their land, their way of life destroyed, and Gustav wanted to record them to show to the world their rich culture which he strongly believed was worthy of preservation. This was a goal Debbie was able to get totally on board with.

As she waited, she thought back to the day not so very long ago when she had been called to the Head’s office where she found her parents waiting along with a handsome, wiry-looking, grey-haired man she did not recognise.

“Am I in trouble?” she had asked, her mind racing to try to think what she could possibly have done but she had been quickly assured that this was not the case and had been invited to take a seat while the situation was explained. Gustav had come to the school in search of a girl he could offer to the tribe for his documentary and the Head, knowing her passion for social causes, had immediately recommended Debbie. Not wanting to approach her and have her agree only to have her parents veto the idea, they had decided to get their permission first and they had agreed that, if she was keen to participate, they would not stand in her way but had wanted to be there when she was asked, both to ensure that she was not pressured and to make it clear that they would support her in her choice, whatever it was.

Of course when she had heard the pitch, she could not help but agree. It had seemed like such a worthy cause and she was honoured to be a part of it but now the moment was almost upon her and suddenly it felt incredibly real. She was sure that some sort of fee would have been negotiated with her parents but that was never discussed. Not that it really mattered to her anyway, she would not survive to enjoy it!

On Gustav’s instructions, she had remained in the store cabin while the apparatus of her demise was constructed as he wanted to capture her authentic response. Knowing she would be expected to run very shortly and not wanting her legs to cramp, Debbie stood and performed some stretches while she waited.

She was a pretty girl, there was no doubt about that, with dark blonde hair falling just past her shoulders and pale skin with a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, providing a marked contrast to the girls of the village with their rich, light brown skin and jet black hair. She was short from her age, barely passing five foot, and at thirteen her chest was far less developed than many of her peers and she had yet to require anything more than a training bra. Her thighs were nice and thick, however, and she was often complemented on her peachy bubble-butt, the two areas where she was given to believe a girl’s best meat could be found anyway, so she was sure that the villagers would not be left unsatisfied!

The soft, light brown fluff that graced her plump vulva had been taken care of by the women with a sharp stone and she was now as smooth down there as she had been at eight or nine. Since the villagers themselves did not wear anything that could really be described as clothing at any time, what they did wear being best understood as jewellery or ornamentation, she had observed that none of them seemed to have any body hair and she wondered if this was a simple biological norm for them or whether they removed it for cultural reasons. Either way, she understood why they had wanted to shave her – nobody likes hair in their food after all!

Drumbeats outside and the general sound of social chatter, which sounds the same in any language, told her that the ritual was about to begin and, sure enough, two of the woman who had washed her earlier in preparation for her starring role came into the hut to collect her, escorting her out between them, each holding onto her upper arm with one hand and resting the other on her shoulder. Although she was aware of the camera set up all around, she knew not to look at them directly although felt pleased when she saw Gustav out of the corner of her eye giving her a thumbs-up of encouragement.

It was easy not to focus on the cameras, however, when she saw what was in the middle of the village, waiting for her with the rest of the community sat around in a circle. It was a T-shaped wooden construction, about six feet tall, the cross-beam as wide as it was high. A few feet in front of it was a large slab of glistening black stone which would likely have been very valuable on the collector’s market but which was infinitely more precious to this community. It was held up about ten inches from the ground on roughly-hewn grew rocks and beneath it a low fire was burning, tended by two village girls around her own age.

The young boys of the village, those not yet considered men but no longer infants, were gathered in a huddle looking excited, holding nets and spears made from tree branches which were sharpened at one end but not enough to pierce the skin unless pushed with considerable force. They were props for the performance, toys really. This part of the ritual had been explained to her too – in memory of the fact that the feast would traditional have been a prisoner of war, the boys of the village would hunt her around the village and down to the river. As she ran around the village, they would give chase but keep a little way back. Once she had completed her three laps and headed towards the river, however, all bets were off and it would be their job to capture her and bring her back to the village.

The drumming got louder and there were whoops and cheers of approval from the villagers and she was brought out and shown to them. The chief, a woman who Debbie judged to be in her seventies or eighties, gave a speech that she could not understand as she stood in front of the cruciform, unable to take her eyes off the black stone where her meat would be cooked. After a minute or two, the women released her and stepped aside then the chief gave her a small push between her shoulders and Debbie knew that it was time to run. She took off and began to run clockwise around the perimeter of the village, staying within the line of the huts.

The group of fifteen or so boys whooped and cheered, brandishing their spears. ropes and nets aloft as they began to chase her, sticking together in a group and staying at least ten feet or so behind her. It was only when she glanced over her shoulder that Debbie realised that several of the older boys, the young teens, were hard, their erect boyhoods swaying and bobbing as they ran after her, and she wondered exactly what would happen when they caught her. It was only really at that moment when she realised how urgent the tingle between her legs was and she found she welcome the idea of some relief at the hands, or other body-parts, of these boys before she was served up to the village, however brutal and clumsy it was likely to be.

“Two!” she whispered to herself, keeping track of the number of laps before commencing her third and final, thankful for the stretches she had done while waiting. The gap between the trees at the edge of the village was coming up and, wanting to provide some entertainment and sport, she acted as if she were going to make another circuit of the village before abruptly changing course, almost doubling back on herself, causing the following boys to crash into each other in a way that seemed to cause great amusement to the villages and bought her a few extra seconds head start as she headed towards the river.

Beyond the village limits there were no cameras, no members of the film crew supervising proceedings, just her and the boys and the hunt was real! If she made it to the river, she wondered, what was she supposed to do then? Try to swim across it? Run along its bank? A spear whistled past her and clattered uselessly to the ground. The laugher, whoops and battle cries from the boys was getting louder. They were gaining on her. As she continued running, she dared another glance over her shoulder and saw that they were splitting off into smaller parties, clearly meaning to ambush her. Two boys of about eleven seemed to have managed to get ahead of her and hid in the undergrowth either side of the rough path she followed, their rope hidden under soil and leaves, perhaps hidden there earlier in preparation. As she approached, they pulled it tight, lifting it about six inches from the ground and she saw it just a moment too late to avoid tripping and falling head-long.

Fighting the momentary instinct just to give up at that point, she scrambled to her feet and managed to continue running just before the other hunters were upon her but she had hurt her knee in the fall and could feel that she was slowing down. Other boys threw spears at her from either side of the path, easily brushed aside if they came too close but enough to distract her and slow her down. Just as the river was in sight, two of the oldest boys caught up to her and, before she knew what was happening, wrapped her in a net, leaving her thrashing around on the ground like a landed fish.

There was no point fighting any more, she knew that. This was how the hunt had always been going to end anyway. There had never been the possibility of her surviving the event after all, and the hunt was all part of the ritual. Now that the boys had their victory, she decided to relax and try her best to enjoy whatever happened next.

Swarming around her, the boys held her town as they untangled her from the net then forced her legs back over her shoulders and tied her ankles together behind her head. One of the boys drove a sharp wooden stake into the ground a little way past her head then bound her wrists tightly to it. The oldest boy who seemed to be the leader stepped forward, leering and making comments in his own language which made his fellow hunters laugh in a tone that transcended language then he knelt down and, without build-up or ceremony, thrust his erection into Debbie’s tight, virgin cunt. The victorious hunter showed no care for her pleasure or comfort as he aggressively fucked his prey – to do so was his prize, his entitlement, and he was going to claim it!

Whether in climax or simply in triumph, Debbie could not tell, the teen pulled out of her and made way for the next boy who seemed to be the second oldest. He too thrust roughly into her and Debbie stifled her cries of pain, opting instead to simply close her eyes and try to enjoy what was happening to her. Of all the ways she had imagined losing her virginity since she had leaned what that meant, being gang-raped by a group of teen and pre-teen boys who had hunted her down through the forest like a deer and would soon be taking her back to their camp to be butchered alive had never been a scenario she had pictured. Yet here she was, and there was no turning back now.

After the fourth of fifth by had his way with her, she opened her eyes and saw the boy of eleven of twelve standing up and laughing with blood smeared on her erect four inch cock. Her blood, she was sure. Still, the bleeding provided lubrication of sorts and, since they seemed to be working their way from oldest to youngest, the cocks that violated her grew smaller and smaller with the youngest boys sticking theirs in for fun, copying the older boys with no real understanding of the purpose.

Her cunt torn and sort and her thighs bruised, Debbie lay on her back breathing heavily, the mix of pleasure and pain making her dizzy, her arms and legs numb from the way they had been awkwardly bent and tied. She saw the oldest boy kneel down beside her and raise a small stone hand-axe and, for a moment, she thought that he was about to finish her off with a blow to the head, planning to drag her corpse back to the village to complete the ritual rather than making her endure it alive, but when he brought the hand-crafted blade down it was onto the ropes that bound her wrists and she felt her arms cut free. He then grabbed her hair aggressively and tugged her head forward so that he could chop the ropes that bound her ankles.

Unable to move on lifeless limbs, Debbie lay on her back with her arms and legs splayed, bloody semen leaking from her ravaged cunt onto the forest floor, fingers and toes beginning to tingle and the tingling slowly spreading back up towards her core as the blood began to flow through her limbs once more.

Before she was quite recovered, the oldest boy who had been the first to use her vulnerable young teen body grabbed her hair again and dragged her behind him into the river. The shock of the cold water helped her to recover and she managed to put her feet down on the gravelly bed as several of the other boys grabbed handfuls of leaves from the floor, joined their leader prey in the water and used their improvised sponges to scrub her clean once more.

Her skin stinging, feeling exhausted, sore and cold, Debbie was led out of the water and her hands were tied behind her back, the end of the rope held by two of the younger boys, and another put around her neck like a leash to lead her back to the village, the oldest boy leading the victory parade. Although she shivered at first as she emerged from the water, abused and dripping, Debbie was grateful for the tropical heat of the day and began to feel better the closer they got to the village, despite her all too clear awareness of the fate that awaited her there!

The drums, which had fallen silent, started up again when the distant sound of jubilant whooping from the forest made it clear that the boys were on their way back. Gustav had left the cameras rolling for several minutes when there had been technically nothing to film, interested to see how the villagers passed this time and planning to intercut the footage with snippets of interviews he had conducted earlier with some of the villagers through a translator and of course with Debbie herself. Despite his noble intentions for the film, Gustav was well aware that the more screen-time he gave to the pretty, naked teen, the more successful and widely viewed the documentary was likely to be.

As they escorted their quarry back to the village, the boys poked playfully at her meaty rump with their pointed sticks, technically to keep her walking forwards, not that she was actually offering any resistance nor showing any inclination to attempt to escape, but it was clear from their laughter that really they were just doing it for fun. Debbie didn’t mind too much and it was irritating but not painful. The jabs higher up her back, however, made her yelp and wince and, more than once, she could not help glaring at them over her shoulder and telling them to cut it out, which only made them laugh more, of course! They didn’t need to understand her language to know what she was trying to convey but who was she to tell them off? She was their prisoner. Their meat!

Back in the village, those who were capable started dancing wildly in a circle around the focal point of the crucifix and cooking stone in front of it. Hearing the drums welcoming them back from a successful hunt, the boys began to chant in unison. As soon as the first of them emerged through the tree-line, the dancing stopped and the villagers spread out to allow the hunters access to the circle where two burly men were standing, one either side of the T-shaped crucifix, each armed with mallets and two eight-inch long, broad-headed nails.

With Gustav’s camera trained on her from every angle and the director imagining the commentary in his head, delivered by some well-known actor famous for their gravitas, although exactly who that would be had yet to be finalised, Debbie was untied and handed over to the men who grabbed her roughly by the arms and led her towards her fate. The boys, their task complete, dispersed into the general crowd.

With more aggression than was really required, given her compliance, but for the sake of theatrics, the men turned the young girl around so that her back was to the crucifix and kicked her feet to part them. She felt blood trickling down the inside of her leg and wondered what damage the uncaring boys had done to her delicate private parts. Of course, that was really of no concern and, whatever they had done, it was nothing compared to the damage that was about to be inflicted all over her body! Several of the villagers, the woman especially, laughed as they pointed the blood out to each other, commenting in their own language that the boys had clearly been having fun playing with their food!

One of the women came forward with a bowl containing some kind of thick liquid and offered it to the captive girl. Debbie’s guards allowed her to take it and the woman encouraged her, by means of gestures, to drink it, urging her to consume it all. The liquid had a bitter taste to it and was deeply unpleasant to drink but Debbie understood that it was meant to dull the pain of what was to come next so she endured it, swallowing even as she wanted to vomit. When the bowl was empty, the woman gave her a piece of wild honeycomb, dripping with thick, amber sweetness to chew upon, providing relief from the bitter taste of the painkilling liquor and also a mild distraction.

Tugging her arms so hard as to almost pull the from their sockets, they positioned her wrists at the extreme ends of the cross beam and, holding the second nails between their teeth, began to drive the iron spikes through her skin, between the bones beneath the heels of her hands and into the wood behind. Now Debbie could not help but scream, despite the numbing drug which had yet to take full effect, as each fresh blow brought with it a new wave of pain.

The cameras zoomed in on her face then panned down her shaking body before pulling out once more to show her full form as the men lifted her feet, forcing her knees to bend and pushing her hips forward, then drove the remaining nails through her feet to hold them in place above two foot above the ground.

This time, Debbie did not scream. Perhaps her feet were not as sensitive as her hands or perhaps the numbing liquor she had been giving was starting to do its job. The dancing began again, with the villagers ecstatically circling the crucified girl while she struggled for breath, her tortured wriggling making her cute little tits jiggle in a way that was sure to appeal to the viewers. Watching on his monitors, Gustav was very pleased to see that this went on for some time and his cameras had several good views of his young star from every angle, showing how her body was bent forward, arching away from the crucifix, leaving every part of her on clear view.

On the crucifix, Debbie was feeling dizzy. The drug she had been given to drink not only dulled her physical senses but her mind and vision along with it, the dancing villagers becoming a blurred mass as they circled her again and again then the dancing stopped and she was approached by someone, an old woman, stooped, leaning on a staff and supported by a young girl. Her granddaughter, perhaps, or even great-granddaughter. Or perhaps just a servant girl. The old woman was the Matriarch of the village, the revered leader of their community.

With one hand she began to feel Debbie’s pinned body, roughly squeezing her thighs, rump and breasts as if making a selection. The thirteen year old tried to focus, to watch what was about to happen to her, as one of the men who had nailed her up passed an ornate knife to the woman, the blade made from glistening onyx.

With a surprising amount of strength giver her frail appearance, the woman cut a thick slice of meat from Debbie’s right buttock. She felt a stinging sensation and some pressure but no real pain as her flesh was sliced away and watched wide-eyed as the meat was placed on the cooking stone where it immediately began to sizzle, watched over by the other women who crouched beside it.

Next to make his selection was the oldest boy who had led the hunters. Like the elderly woman who passed the knife to him, he explored her young body thoroughly with his hand before making his selection, taking far longer than her strictly needed to and clearly enjoying having the pretty thirteen year old at his mercy. Laughing, he stuck his fingers into her sore and ravaged cunt and Debbie was sure that he was about to cut away her vulva but instead he laughed, pulled his fingers out and forced them into her mouth to make her taste the mix of blood and semen that was the mark of her sealed fate, of his and the other boys’ victory over her. With the taste still lingering in her mouth, mixing with that of the waxy honeycomb, he grabbed hold of her left nipple, pinching hard and pulling it forward before slicing the entire breast from her chest and laying it on the stone to cook.

As their honoured guest, Gustav was called forward to make the next cut. This was not something that Debbie had been expecting! What part of her would the handsome director choose, she wondered? Would it be her other breast? Her cunt? Or would he leave those for the villagers and choose something else? Like the others, he ran his hands over her but in a far more gentle, almost loving way, his touch a caress rather than the aggressive meat inspection she had experienced from the others. Making his choice, smiling at her and mouthing the words “Thank you”, Gustav followed the lead of the Matriarch, he cut himself a slice of her juicy rump meat.

The extreme way that her knees were bent made it easier for Debbie to lift herself up to breath than a traditional victim of crucifixion for whom the hanging alone was intended to cause death but it still required strength, effort and willpower, all of which ebbed from her increasingly with every cut that was made. The men who had nailed her up were the next to take their reward, choosing her remaining breast and a slice of thigh. Then came the women who watched over the cooking stone and it was one of them who finally cut Debbie’s plump vulva, shaved smooth earlier that day, pushing their fingers up inside her still tight but roughly violated cunt as the boy had done and pulling forward to provide leverage for their cuts.