Trapping The Raider Ch 01

This is a new genre for me and I was not sure what category to fit this story into. It could be erotic horror, Scifi or BDSM, but at its core it is always an erotic love story, with some erotic horror mixed in. Of course, all characters are over 21. It will definitely not start out as a love story, but it will get there. Please vote often (fives are most welcome) and of course please leave constructive comments.

PS -- If you have fantasies, ideas, etc. for new stories please let me know, that includes twists on existing stories, and I will see what I can do. Many of my stories have started out that way. This story started out with an erotic drawing I saw with tentacles ravaging a sexy young lady.

Trapping the Raider

Chapter 1

Elsa and her husband Professor Ken Conners had planned a trip to Bocas Del Toro, Panama. He had an Archeology conference to attend, and she would spend several days alone scoping out the beaches and restaurants. She did some research on Panama and heard tales of an old conquistador treasure hidden deep in the jungles of northern Panama somewhere around Volcan Baru. According to the rumors, the treasure was well protected by a series of diabolical traps and many treasure hunters had died trying to find the gold.

The beaches could wait because she was going for the historical treasure. She already had several award winning archeological finds and she along with her husband were great at ferreting out new finds in even old digs. Elsa loved the thrill of a new find and all the treasures they could produce. They were not in it for the treasures, but the treasured knowledge that could be gleaned from old artifacts.

She knew that if she had any chance of finding the treasure, she would have to do her research. Her PhD in Archeology gave her the abilities to run down rumors and myths and she was very thorough in her research. Used to be, she would have to spend years running all over the world finding clues, but now almost everything had been digitized and you can find it on the internet.

However, you can only get so far on the internet, but phone calls and emails filled in the gap. A couple of months later her research in Panama had born fruit and she figured her starting point would be Boquete, Panama. She gathered all her data including some, but not all about the traps meant to guard the treasure.

She knew she was ready to go for it. After she arrived in Boca Del Toro, Panama, she checked into the Air BnB and left Ken her notes on the location and history of the treasure. She knew that Ken would follow her and left for Boquete. There she found the cave she was looking for. Thanks to her research, it only took two days for her to find the well-hidden cave. She studied the cave for an additional day, because she knew there were many traps waiting for her.

Elsa had known that the traps within the cavern were to stop treasure hunters in their tracks. The centuries-old mechanisms she had navigated through seemed too easy and she was wary of what she was NOT finding. There were the usual spring-loaded traps, poisoned tipped arrows and pits to fall into, but once you knew what to look for, they were easy to avoid. However, she never expected to be caught by a slow-moving organic entity while she was searching for mechanical traps. All the mass of tentacles needed was to lay patiently in waiting for its unsuspecting prey.

By the time she felt tentacles wrapping around her legs, it was too late. The suction cups on the tentacles latched on to her with an unbreakable grip. She was pulled off her feet, dragged into a pit filled with bones and a shallow pool of water where a swarm of tentacles awaited her. Their strength astounded her as she fought and struggled against the seemingly unending swarm of tentacles. While multiple tentacles lifted her above the water, spread and held her arms and legs captive, other tentacles began shredding and stripping her clothes from her. Apparently, the tentacles wanted her naked, vulnerable and available to whatever it had in mind as a punishment for her transgressions.

Fear raced through her struggling form. She fought with everything she had, but it had very little effect. The guardian of the treasure had only one job and it did it well. She never expected a living organism to still be alive and guarding the gold after centuries. Once she was caught, the fear of how she was going to die overruled all her other senses. Elsa tried to regain her wits and think of a way out, but terror gripped her, and she couldn't think. A jolt of adrenaline made her heart pound in her chest and cleared her mind for a second, but it didn't make any difference.

She felt the tentacles with barbs embedded in their suckers grabbing and tearing at her clothes. First her shoes and socks were easily removed, but then her pants were ripped along the seams and eventually torn from her body. Her jacket, blouse and bra were split front to back and yanked from her in multiple pieces. Lastly her panties were torn from her, leaving her struggling naked and vulnerable in the tentacle swarm.

Four sets of tentacles wrapped around her arms and legs stretching her appendages until she felt as if she were bound on a medieval rack. The only difference was no support on her back. The tentacles pulled harder keeping her suspended in the air as it stripped her. It needed her naked to begin its diabolical torment. Once it had finally stripped and secured its new prisoner, the guardian was free to show Elsa how this long-extinct civilization punished those who dared seek out their treasures.

It quickly became apparent that the caretaker had no intention to kill her ... outright. Those that had survived the mechanical traps were destined for a more diabolical punishment. She expected that death would come slowly, and she would die of starvation, heart attack, and/or dehydration. What happened between now and then was anyone's guess.

After an hour of struggling and unsuccessfully trying to escape its clutches, she soon came to find that a quick death or even torture was not its goal -- or at least not the kind of torture she had feared. The tentacles slowly and almost seductively caressed her newly revealed skin searching for areas that could provide the most erotic torment.

Elsa regretted coming alone and at this moment wanted her husband and lover Ken Connors to save her from her own folly. She knew better than to go into a trap ridden cave alone, yet she did. Now she could only pray he found her notes and was coming to save her.

The swarm of tentacles took its time turning her fear into arousal, armed with hundreds of years of experience honing its skills on the human anatomy. It was aided by its own cocktail of aphrodisiacs that the barbed suckers began to inject into her bloodstream. Fortunately for Elsa, most of the treasure hunters were male and the swarm had to find out where the female erogenous zones were. The tentacle's silky caresses slowly stroked the hills and valleys of her skin searching for areas that would illicit a gasp, whimper or moan of pleasure.

After several hours Elsa was writhing, all thoughts of escape had been rendered moot by such deliberate seduction. It was too dark to make out the minute details of the cave's protector, though it had absolutely no trouble in tantalizing the minute details of her own body. It read her every desire as if each one of her movements were its very own script. Tiny tendrils snaked across her body, using its suckers and little cilia to tease and gauge her reactions.

Her mind's eye could not keep up with the ways it explored between her thighs. Through such disgust and fear, the creature knew just how to cause her body to betray her; it had much experience in making one lose themselves to the desires of the flesh. So many tendrils caressed the lips of her sex while others sought out the delicate jewel nestled within, slowly circling until her clitoris was pulsating with arousal.

Elsa's inhibition parts of the brain (amygdala) began to shut down, robbing her of her voice of reason. Logic and thinking functions began to blackout while she fought, but the mounting pleasure saw her fight dissipating while dopamine, oxytocin, and endorphins ran rampant through the remainder of the brain, leaving her swimming in a sea of arousal. All the twitches, quivers and tremors and muscular spasms were her mind's automatic response to the custodian's erotic torment. Torment turned to torture as she writhed in the protector's grasp.

With each teasing touch, the guardian felt every micro muscular reaction and began to learn how Elsa reacted to each tormenting contact. While Elsa tried fruitlessly to escape the clutch of her captor, deep down she wondered how much this thing was tapping into her most intimate desires. If only she knew what was to come, perhaps she'd have tried so much harder to run and fight. She of course knew that this was to ward off explorers, but still was not sure why it was treating her to such a whirlwind of pleasure, seducing her body like the most attentive of lovers.

However, the caretaker would not give her the respite of caressing that sensitive clitoris the way she needed. For so long it had toyed with that little morsel, causing her hips to sway in a desperate bid to communicate that it had won her over. Instead, those little tendrils continued to caress her folds like cruel fingertips as if taking joy from every muscular twitch of anticipation, while those at her clitoris slid and prodded tenderly like one hundred tongues all playing with their meal. As time went on though, and as it continued to arouse her without pushing towards her climax, she'd soon understand that this was the guardian's torture.

The erotic thunderstorm inside her raged until all other thoughts were pushed aside. The storm inside her continued to build until it was a tornado, twisting her body and wringing every last drop of ecstasy from her loins. It was pleasure beyond anything she could imagine, and it kept building until it was pure agony. For a few moments she wondered how pleasure could turn into misery, but then her mind lost all cognitive abilities.

The more it went on, the more it learned about her, and how to keep her teetering on the edge. Suddenly came the little strokes of a phallus against her soft, wet petals, just pushing to that twitching opening. Always enough to make her hope for more though still it would not offer relief, keeping her pussy constantly dripping without any sign of penetration.

Each time the tip of that large appendage pressed to her; Elsa felt soft little cilia moving autonomously, completely covering that bulbous head. It wreaked havoc on her imagining what that would feel like if only it slid inside her needy pussy, to be fucked while having the cilia stroke right against the most sensitive parts within her. She imagined the cilia stroking her G-Spot and clit at the same time and she tried arching her hips into the torturous appendage to help her achieve her vaunted climax.

The way the treasure's protector forced a sucker-tipped tentacle to devour her nipples seemed to drive the point home. It knew what she craved and wanted her to think about how much more it could do. She knew it could give her wonderous orgasms, but she was denied that bliss, because she had dared to hunt for the guardian's treasure. She felt as if she were going to die of unrealized pleasure, with her rapture just over the horizon.

At one point the tentacle against her pussy started to vibrate, forcing her to feel every ridge and groove that squirmed against her sensitive sexual core. She begged and pleaded like her life depended on it -- all to no response. It simply kept the wondrous tip just far enough away to let her feel it press her pussy lips apart every time she gyrated her hips against it. Feeling the little cilia oscillate just at her opening, swaying a little as if trying to slip a little further into her pussy, was truly maddening. This tentacle-based lifeform was more intelligent than Elsa ever expected to find, and it was actively toying with her body. It wanted her to know that her efforts to fight against it were hopeless and she would become its marionette as it dictated her every movement.

As she grew accustomed to one torment another began. A slender tentacle began to probe her anus. The tentacle gathered her womanly nectar that seeped from her wildly exuberant pussy and used it to lubricate its entry through her brown star and into her bowels. This was not Elsa's first double penetration but having two live tentacles inside her pussy and bowels sent her to the edge of a massive climax. The tentacles sensed that and kept her twisting, leaving her hanging over her orgasmic abyss. The torturous rapture that was just out of reach began to sizzle areas of her brain.

She was supposed to remember something and yet, she wanted the tentacles inside her more than anything else in the entire world. Elsa opened her mouth and closed it a few times, like a fish gasping for breath outside of its tank. Her mind went completely numb once more as the tentacles devoured her sumptuous flesh hungrily. Sparks ignited inside her, and a storm built to dangerous levels in her core. She was so close to reaching the precipice they had her standing on. She wanted to go over ... no she needed to.

Being turned into a brainless, sex-induced corpse was not her preferred way to die, but it would be painless. As a matter-of-fact, it would be the most idyllic way to die. When the tentacles reached around her and lifted her above the water, it swung her over it effortlessly as if she weighed no more than ten pounds. She was bend in half, fighting for her life. But as thunderous passion seized her tortured form, she didn't know if she even wanted to be released.

Once her body backed slightly away from her orgasmic gorge, a more male-like tentacle was introduced to her lips to feel those thick, pulsing inches against her tongue. Tears of frustration rolled down her cheeks as she imagined how that motion of penetration would feel for her agonizingly teased pussy. Now all three of her holes were filled with slithering tentacles that were intent on tormenting her to the point of insanity. They stroked her sexually with soft, gentle, loving strokes keeping her hanging over the crevasse of her impending climax, but never giving her enough friction to fall into her ruthless rapture.

Even just the slight teasing motions around her clitoris, the occasional hum of pleasure to her pussy, was enough to bring her towards the pinnacle. Adding the suction to her nipples flung her right to the edge. It drew her nipple up and lavished that stiff peak with numerous tongue-like sensations, all in a bid to make sure she never lost focus of what the guardian could do to such a small part of her body. Every time she got close however, it kept her on the brink for as long as she could possibly take -- slowing the motion of the tendrils and backing off with the buzzing phallus.

She knew full well that her pleas had no effect, yet when the tendrils peeled back her clitoral hood to let another sucker brush over the tip, she still screamed out every promise and plea her mind could muster, just to feel it clamp down on it. It was the most diabolical of tortures to push her closer and closer to blistering edge of her orgasm, yet never letting her have it. Teetering on the edge of an orgasm for what seemed like a day, was a torture she had never even thought of. Her body betrayed her, her pussy became the focus of her whole world and her brain could no longer process the unending pleasure.

Her eyes lost their focus, her brain began to shut down while her breathing became labored, and her heart thumped wildly in her chest. Only her muscles automatic response to the unceasing, torturous teasing still reacted the way they should. But before her mind completely shut down, one sucker did finally snatch that engorged pleasure filled nub in her pussy and sucked on it relentlessly. The tentacles tightened their grip on Elsa as every muscle tensed and strained in shock and joy.

Her mind snapped back celebrating in the long-awaited orgasmic bliss that hit with the force of a rapturous hurricane. Her back arched, belly knotted, legs trembled, and blissful screams echoed through the cave as the long-awaited bliss exploded inside her. Her mind saw colorful fireworks as the buildup of an endorphin-serotonin cocktail was suddenly released. Elsa felt as if she was soaring into outer space and her body fought against her bonds as it tried to curl into a fetal position and protect her devasted sexual core. As her massive orgasm began to abate with her mind still battling her endorphins, her mind cleared slightly, and her predicament returned.

Then the cycle began all over again. The guardian would not let her mind drift away because it needed its victim conscious, thinking and feeling its torment. The tentacled beast had grown accustomed to the many ways of teasing humans to the brink of insanity. With so much time spent alone and undisturbed, it made the most of its one and only activity.

She would not be saved from this torture. It knew how to suckle against and draw pleasure from every nerve ending in her nipples, clitoris and areas she never knew were erogenous. It knew how to explore every inch of her pussy and devour the joy of her G-spot. It knew how to keep her skin aflame with need and her breasts heaving in constant anticipation. It was going to take its time showing her the depths of pleasure too hellish to believe, and to make her weep at the decision to ever enter this place.

Her personality and thinking mind had to be saved. Before when Ix Chel confiscated her body, she found a way to hide within her own mind and she needed to do it again. Elsa's mind was ravaged by the unrelenting torment, but she began to retreat, leaving the parts of her brain devastated by the endless torture and bliss. Her body was on automatic, reacting with wild gyrations, orgasmic quivers and intoxicating euphoria with each loving caress of the tentacles.

It's always there. Always. Constantly. Relentlessly. It's her faithful constant companion. It's her best friend who is always right between her legs. Her clitoris is also Elsa's worst enemy, tirelessly on the look-out to exploit her smallest weakness and launch her orgasm. Sometimes she screams like all hell broke loose, but it's always there, throbbing painfully, waiting for the explosion of rapture.

She looks at her pussy. Foe and friend. A part of her, but also apart from her. They share a body, but it is painfully obvious who is in charge. Yeah, there are around 8,000 nerve endings in the clit which is the highest density of all human tissue. But there are 100 billion neurons in the brain that should count for something and overrule the tiny pleasure filled nub between her legs.

Nope, it doesn't. One impulse from here to there and her mind is captured by her one and only need; she has to face her orgasmic need. Her clitoris is screaming to be touched. It's also screaming "don't you dare touch me!" Her mind had already lost the struggle ... If only Ken was here to save her.