MEXICAN REBELS SEX SLAVES
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AND ILLUSTRATED VOLUME 2
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Over 40 original illustrations by
the famous illustrator Aires, illustrated exclusively for this novel, under
instructions by the award winning writer Powerone.
This exclusive novel is about a
mother and her eighteen year old daughter captured and interrogated by the
Zapatista rebels. A full novel of 59,917 words, this novel is a
must for Powerone fans.
It comes in the un-illustrated
version or the two volume illustrated set. Each illustrated volume
contains at least 20 original illustrations
EXCERPT
They were driving through
The concierge at the hotel had told
them of a secluded waterfall, reserving the jeep, giving them a map and even
arranging for the food. They left early,
hoping to get to the waterfall, a three-hour ride from the hotel, by ten.
“They are gone,” the concierge spoke
into the telephone. “I took their
luggage from the room and did a quick checkout and slipped a duplicate key into
the checkout box. No one will even miss
them. You should see them around
ten. They are driving a black jeep, top
down, two beautiful gringa, mother and daughter. The mother must be in her late thirties, but
a very beautiful body. The daughter just
graduated high school, so she must be eighteen.
Nice, young, tight body. I’m glad
the General will be pleased. I know how
much he hates the American gringos. Yes,
the Zapatista rebels will rid our land of them soon enough. Is the General going
to interrogate them? I wish I could be
there to see it. I could be there this
weekend; will he keep them that long? It
will probably take at least two weeks for anyone to find out when and where
they went missing. No, the
“Shit,” Christy swearing as they saw
nothing familiar. They should have been
there by now.
“Are we lost, Mom?” Angela began to get a little nervous. They hadn’t seen any other houses or people
for over an hour, the road getting skinnier, dustier and looking less traveled.
Christy looked over at her daughter,
seeing the worried look on her face.
“It’ll be all right, I think it is just around the next bend,” she
lied. Shit, shit, shit. Why did she
listen to the stupid kid at the hotel and rent this jeep and drive out into the
middle of nowhere?
Christy slammed on the brakes, the
tires grabbing tightly, skidding in the sand, almost
running off the road. “What the fuck…?”
Four black-clad Zapatista rebels
were spread across the road ahead, a truck turned sideways, blocking passage. Each of the rebels wore a black bandana
around his face, their rifle or machine gun loosely hanging at the ready. It was almost as if they had been waiting for
them.
“I thought they would never get here,”
one rebel spoke. “Damn gringas must have gotten lost. We are lucky they finally got back on the
right road.”
“Who are they, Mom?” Angela was scared, they looked like bandits.
“Don’t worry, honey, they are
Zapatista rebels. They don’t care about
us. They must be looking for spies. I read about them in the paper. Spies are always trying to infiltrate them so
they can raid the rebel communities.
They’ll just let us go. Let me do
the talking,” letting the jeep slowly inch up to the blockade. At least they could get directions, relief coming
over her, not worrying about the rebels.
Things like that don’t happen to Americans.
“Do you speak English?” Christy spoke slowly, hoping they did, her
Spanish was limited to gracias.
“Sí, Señora, we speak very good English. Do you think we are ignorant farmers?”
She felt a little scared now. The mask and now his harsh
tone sending a shiver up her spine.
Be nice. Use your charm on him.
“Of course not, I
didn’t mean to insult you. My
daughter and I are lost. We are looking
for the El Caer waterfalls. We been driving for hours now and seem to
have gotten turned around somehow.”
“Americanos ignorantes. El conseguir perdido hacia fuera
aquí,” he said to the others. “El Caer
waterfall is over one hundred miles from here, Señora. What are you doing out here?” He became more adamant now.
“We were giving directions to
here.” She reached down between the
seats to get the map.”
“Keep your hands where they
are!” The rebels raising their weapons
at them, Angela screaming as a gun was pointed at her for the first time,
almost peeing in her pants.
“Put your guns down!” Christy cried out, raising her hands. “We’re Americans.”
“Crazy bitch,” he said, moving next
to the jeep, looking at both of them with their hands raised. Carlos was right, both had great bodies, the
General would be pleased. “Keep your
hands up,” reaching over her, letting his hand brush her breasts, as he moved
toward the console in the middle. He
found the crude hand-drawn map that Carlos had given them. A map drawn precisely to
their rebel village. “Is this
it?” He drew the map out, his arm
rubbing against her breast again, this time harder. She kept her hands raised up.
“Yes, that’s it,” growing more
uncomfortable as he accidentally brushed against her breast, but the second
time she knew was on purpose, his arms pushing against her breast far too long
to be an accident.
“This is a map to our
“No, No! The concierge at the hotel drew the map. He said it was to El Caer waterfall. We
don’t know anything about the rebels.
Please, let us go. We are
Americans.”
“You are going to have to explain to
the General, Señora.
We have had many gringa tourists that are
spies. They are always helping the
Mexican soldiers research plans to attack our rebel communities. He will probably let you go, but I would be
shot if I didn’t bring you to him. You
wouldn’t want that to happen to me, would you, Señora?” He didn’t want any trouble until he could get
them bound. Then he could do what he
pleased.
“Where is the General?” A General would be more civilized, he would
understand that this was just an accident.
She hoped that he was close, so they could quickly get out of here and immediately
head back to the hotel.
“Not far, Señora. I can’t tell you exactly, just in case you
are a spy. Now get out of the jeep. And your daughter, too.” His gun aimed at Christy, another rebel
moving to the other side of the jeep, his rifle trained on Angela.
“Mom, Mom,” Angela wined, “I’m
scared. He has a gun pointed at me. What‘s going to happen to us?”
“It will be okay, honey, just do
what they say. We’ll be back at the
hotel soon. Don’t hurt my daughter. She’s just a little girl,” she begged.
The rebel looked at Angela as she
got out of the jeep. He loved blonde
Americans. She was wearing a pair of
shorts, hip huggers that left her navel naked, a diamond stud in the center of
it. The shorts clung to her body,
especially to her ass, molding to the cute cheeks. Her tee shirt barely covered her midriff; he
could make out her bra underneath, positive it encased a lovely, pert set of
tits. Her tanned legs perching high on a
pair of platform sandals that added at least three inches to her height and
made the muscles of her legs tighten nicely.
“She doesn’t look like a little girl to me, Señora.”
“What is your name Señora?”
“Christy,” she said stepping out of
the jeep.
“And, the little
one?” .
“Angela. Just please, leave her alone. She’s only a child.”
“She looks like a woman to me,
Christy. A very beautiful woman, such as
yourself.” looking at Christy. She was
wearing a top that buttoned down the front, tucked neatly into a pair of jeans
that clung to her ass. How do women get into such tight jeans? She didn’t look old enough to have an
eighteen-year-old daughter.
“Mom, I’m scared,” Angela cried to
her mother, the rebel sticking his rifle in her back, forcing her to walk over
to the large truck blocking the road.
“You too, Christy. Move over to the truck.”
“Face the vehicle and lean against
it, both of you. Put your hands on the
sides and spread your legs. Like you Americans do on the cop shows,” teasing, the other rebels
laughing.
“No, we won’t do it.” Christy had to end this. She couldn’t let them search them. She already saw what one had tried to do to
her and now he would have more of a chance, especially with Angela. She had to call their bluff; they wouldn’t
dare hurt American tourists.
The rebel next to her moved over to
Angela, pulling his pistol from his pocket and placing it square in the center
of Angela’s forehead. “Either do as I say or I will pull the trigger and blow your little
girl’s brains out.” He pulled the hammer
back, the loud click frightening Angela, her body trembling in fear.
“Mom, help me. Help me.”
Angela fought the urge to pee in her pants. She had never been as scared as she was now,
a loaded pistol pointed at her head, the hammer cocked, ready to kill her.
Christy hurriedly put her hands
against the truck, arms up high like she had seen on television. “I’m doing what you want, leave her
alone.” She was panicking, the situation
getting worse and worse.
‘You too, Angela, up against the
truck like a good little gringa,” letting the hammer
go back down, putting the weapon back in the holster. They would be good from now on.
Standing behind Christy, he looked
down at her jeans, her ass tightly packed in them. “Legs back a little now, Christy. Yes, that’s good; now stick your ass out as
they do on American television. I’m
going to have to pat you down. I have to
make sure your not carrying a gun.” He
looked over at one of his men making Angela assume the same position, Angela
obeying much quicker, the gun at her head making her very obedient.
He pressed his body up against
Christy, firmly against her ass, using his hard cock to assure she fully
understood her position and what she would have to do. He reached around her, sliding his hands down
to her stomach before moving up cup her breasts from beneath as she grumbled
beneath him, protesting his handling of her body, but still keeping the
position, the pistol having the desired effect.
He squeezed, hearing her groan, he murmured, “such lovely tits,
Christy,” fingers digging into them, squeezing the flesh harshly. He found her nipples with his fingertips,
pinching them until she jerked in pain.
“You have sensitive nipples, Christy.
You can’t even take a little pinch on them.”
She kept quiet as he felt her up,
his cock rubbing up and down her ass, humping her like a stray dog. No,
please, no. His hands moving down to
grip her between her legs, luckily her heavy jeans protected her sex from his
groping hands pushing her back onto his cock, goosing her with his hand each
time she humped back on his cock. She
felt relief when he pulled away from her, relieved that he was finished. She would tell the General, he would make
sure that he was punished for molesting her.
“Hands behind your back,” pulling
her arms back, seeing the surprised look on her face as he clamped her wrists
into the shiny, metal cuffs before she could even protest. “Just to keep you still.” He pulled a black cloth sack over her face,
making sure that her nose and mouth matched up with the holes in it, before tightening
the string around her neck, effectively blinding her. “We don’t want you to see where we are taking
you. Now just stand there and be a good
girl, we will leave in a few minutes.”
She tried to pull on the cuffs, the
metal binds unyielding. She stood in
darkness, hearing muffled sounds of talking, unable to hear what was being
said.
The rebel went over to Angela. “Turn around, Angela. Now I want you to be real quiet and don’t say
a word or your mother is going to get hurt.
Can you be a good girl and obey?” seeing the fright in her eyes.
“What are you going to do?” She trembled, but remembered the pistol in his
holster.
“I’m going to have to frisk you for
any weapons.” His cock throbbed in his
pants at the thought of touching such a beautiful, young, American girl.
“I don’t have anything, promise,”
she begged, but she saw in his eyes he would not take no for an answer.
“Now you have to be quiet, I don’t
want your mother to hear anything. Can
you do that, Angela?”
“Yes, sir,” afraid of what was going
to happen.
“Now keep your hands at your
side.” The other rebels moved closer,
wanting to catch a glimpse of this pretty girl.
His hands slid across her naked stomach, feeling her flinch. “Such silky skin,” he whispered to her, his
hands sliding up under her tee shirt, seeing her fists clench at her side,
knowing that she was unhappily enduring this.
He pulled her tee shirt up, uncovering her bra, her young breasts pushed
up high, a generous amount of cleavage showing at the top of her bra. “Hold this up for me,” he whispered to her
again, seeing her hesitate then move up and grip the tee shirt, holding it out
of the way, her bra uncovered, the four rebels gazing as the cleavage of her
tanned globes.
“What are you doing?” She protested as his hands moved to her bra,
gripping her young pert breasts in his grubby hands, squeezing them, her face
and chest turning red in embarrassment as the others watched her slowly being fondled. She could smell his stale breath, his eyes
staring at hers as he grabbed her bra-encased breasts harshly.
The rebel was too eager, unwilling
to wait long enough to get back to the village.
His hands slid under her bra, pulling it up harshly, her tender breasts
squeezed tight before the bra slipped free, her breasts now naked for all of
the men to see.
His hands gripped her breasts as she struggled to
keep the position, helping him by pulling her tee shirt out of the way, giving
all of them a good look at her naked breasts.
All she could think of was the terror of the pistol pressed against her
forehead and the sound of the hammer being pulled back. His fingers were harsh, pinching and
squeezing her flesh, finally gripping her nipples too hard, stretching them out
before finally leaving them alone again.
She looked down, her breasts already red from the abuse.
“Put your tits back in your bra, wouldn’t want your
mother to see,” he whispered in her ear.
She struggled, trying to stuff her breasts back in without unsnapping
her bra, wanting to end the humiliation quickly. “No, please, no,” she cried quietly when she
felt his hands fumbling with the front of her shorts, fingers unsnapping the
top, the zipper sliding down sounding so loud.
She almost stumbled backwards as he gripped the top of her shorts and
yanked them down, hearing the material stain and tear as her shorts and panties
were yanked down below her crotch, her pussy and ass completely exposed. She put her hands in front of her, her top
sliding down to cover her breast again, her hands trying to cover her pussy.
“I said hands at your side, Angela. Now do it,” he
ordered her. As she obeyed, his eyes
slid downward, her bush a triangle of blonde hair, the cutest pussy he had ever
seen, big puffy lips, hiding the treasures between them. He reached out and ran his fingers through
her bush until they ran over her pussy lips.
He squeezed her lips with two fingers, moving down her slit, finally
coming to rest between her legs, his large hand able to engulf her sex, one
finger pushing between her lips, snuggling tightly between the flesh. “Nice cunt,
Angela. Are you a virgin?” He enjoyed the humiliation on her face, her
skin red, her eyes beginning to tear up.
Angela trembled, humiliated as she stood half naked
before the men, her shorts and panties hanging between her legs, his thick
fingers gripping her sex so tightly.
“Yes, please don’t take that from me,” she begged, afraid of being raped
now. They had guns and she had no way of
stopping them. Even her mother was now
bound and her face covered, thankful that she couldn’t witness the degrading
experience they were putting her through.
“Just continue cooperating and
everything will be all right.” He pulled
his hand from her crotch, sliding it around to her ass. “You must workout gringa;
you have a nice tight ass.”
Would this
never end? His hand grabbed her naked ass cheeks as if
they were melons, clutching her flesh.
She jumped when his finger slid along her crack. What
was he doing?
“Relax your cheeks,” he ordered her, “or would you
rather have my men spread them apart?” He
felt her quick surrender, the heat of her body as his finger slid along her
crease, damp with sweat as she trembled in fear before him. He found her anus, feeling her jerk when he
touched it, a spasm that she could not control.
He prodded with his finger, ignoring her whispered protest as his finger
pushed against the tiny hole until it sank in up to his knuckle, her muscle
trying to force it out. “Such a tight asshole.
Ever had a cock up here, Angela?”
“No,” almost forgetting to whisper, protesting the
rude intrusion of his finger in her asshole.
“Please don’t do that.” She felt
the finger moving around inside her, teasing the muscle in her rectum.
“You don’t seem to have much experience with sex for
an eighteen-year old. Have you ever
sucked a cock, Angela? ”
“Yes,” she said almost proudly, ashamed at her lack of
experience, somehow forgetting that they were almost raping her. There had been one boy that she had dated
seriously. While she didn’t have sex
with him, she did use her hands to masturbate him, and ultimately she did suck
his cock, though she did pull it out of her mouth when he came, the thought of
cum shooting into her mouth almost making her gag.
He pulled his finger from her asshole, gripped her
panties and shorts and pulled them up.
He turned her around quickly, snapping a pair of handcuffs on her,
another black bag fitted on her head.
“Into
the truck now,” someone said loudly for both of them to hear.
The rebels helped them up into the truck, hands
touching them all over as they did, not even attempting to mask their real
purpose. They were cuffed now, no chance of them putting up much of a
fight. Christy cussed them, her voice muffled by the bag over her head,
Angela submissively accepting the degradation, the stripping of her and fondling
of her body already taking away her dignity.