The droning of the boat engine went on for a long time. She faded in and out of consciousness. Terror and being up most of the night willingly giving her body to men that would fuck her over, had taken its toll.
She awoke to a stormy sky and the presence of a submarine. Long faded and without much success were the letters CCCP. An old Soviet ship she guessed.
They carried her over to it and inside, bumping her ankle painfully on the metal hatch, and then bumping her head on a pipe.
"Tonto de los cojones!" she shouted. Of course it came out muffled around a gag.
A submarine? Fuck!
That was wealth and power. The Armada de Mexico does not have a single submarine, let alone a naval force that mattered. So who were these fuckers?
--
In a tiny metal room that she could not stand in, she was given a bucket to piss in. Her gag was removed, and she screamed until her throat was hoarse. But she had already pissed and shit on herself, and quite intentionally. No point is turning anyone on and getting herself used.
She had to repress her bondage fantasies to deal with real life. For now. And so she slept in her own shit and piss, sloshing about the small compartment.
And dreamed terrible dreams.
"Portuguesa," a man said, then wrinkled his nose at her stench.
She was pulled from her prison, her bonds cut, and forced into a shower where she was sprayed down. Then dry clothes were presented for her to put on.
She refused.
Her refusal was met by electric shock from some kind of baton. Blue acrs of pain, meet the blue Portuguese Man O War. With hate and sneering, she put on the summer dress and sandals they had offered.
Then her hands were zip-tied behind her once more, her wrists already having dark bruises from the last time, and she was marched outside into the sunlight, and down a blank to a dock.
The submarine took off as soon as they disembarked, and slipped underneath the Gulf. Her eyes adjusted to the scene around her.
A jungle, and in the distance a Mayan pyramid. Holy fuck, she was not in Texas anymore. They had kidnapped her for real, and taken her to the southern end of Mexico, if not another country altogether.
The humidity was stifling, and the long march through the jungle both interesting and ominous. Her youthful spirit allowed her to enjoy this unexpected vacation and believe she might turn out alright.
But this was some deep shit she was in, and she knew it.
They took her to a pyramid where military camps lied all around it, hidden by the jungle canopy. The men were dark and Mayan, and amongst them their families and children running and playing. This made her feel better.
She was marched up a long set of stairs, and somehow she knew that many innocent souls had been marched up these same steps to their sacrifices above. She was trembling by the time she got to the top, dripping with sweat, and terrified.
Men sat about talking in a language that was not Spanish, or any dialect she knew. One of them stood up and greeted her.
"Martina Longoria Balli?" he asked her. "Cut her loose!"
The zip tie was cut, and she rubbed her wrists, glaring balefully at this leader of strange men. He had old eyes in a seemingly young body.
He turned her around and lifted her dress. Perhaps they expected her to react, but she did nothing.
"Like my ass?"
"It is not your ass I am looking for. But your tattoo. But you do have a nice ass."
With that, he slapped it playfully.
She glared. He laughed.
"We are not going to rape you, Senorita Balli. Come, sit and eat with me."
Women in colorful dresses came and served them, smiling at Martina as if to reassure her. The food was incredible, and she ate it all. She drank the exotic juice they offered as a drink, and felt a little less shaky.
"Those three bastard gringos played me, and now I am here. Who are Jason Morgan and his friends to you?"
"My thugs, of course. I want your family's land," he said nonchalantly, as if such theft was perfectly normal. Well, in Mexico is was, unfortunately. Which was why the poor were powerless in their landlessness. "But then my bruja demanded I bring you to her."
