Author's Note: A longer story this time, I hope you enjoy.


Part 1

We knew alot about this particular ritual. It was performed on a select few women, 3000 years ago, in a remote part of the Amazon rainforest. It took place in a temple specially made for this task. The ritual was relatively complex for its time, and sadly, it ended with the girls being sacrificed. Why? We were still not sure, but that is one of the things we were there to find out.

We were a small team of archaeologists, 6 in total. My name is Sarah, a postgraduate student, and along with 2 other postgraduates and 2 PhD students, we were lead by Dr. Richards. We made a good team, in my opinion. We were the ones who pieced together this ancient sacrificial ritual, bit by bit, and everyone is doing their part - a pretty rare scenario, based on my previous expeditionary experience.

We were good at our jobs, and the job was hard. We were isolated out there in the jungle, our only food brought with us, water purified from a nearby stream, a small diesel generator for power, a satellite link to communicate with the university, and lots and lots of trekking. Staying fit was very important. We were not allowed to camp near the actual temple, so had to hike to it each day. A lack of fitness meant it took too much time to get to the temple and left too little time to investigate its fascinating history - or being so exhausted that carrying out that task properly was impossible. I met the desired fitness requirements by a decent margin. I was no athlete, but I kept in generally trim shape.

The sacrifices themselves were carried out on a large stone. It was about 2m long, 1m wide, and 1m tall, and was tilted forwards slightly along the long axis, maybe by 10-15 degrees. The temple itself was mostly hollow and had a floor space of around 20x20m - enough for plenty of onlookers. The sacrificial stone was dead in the centre of the temple, and the top was tilted downwards towards the entrance. The stone contained several large vertical holes, each about 5 inches across - this, we think, was to drain the blood of the one being sacrificed, as the holes exited the sides of the stone further down.

Hundreds, maybe even thousands, had died here; and each sacrifice preceded by the same elaborate ritual. The details of the ritual was carved, in a mostly indecipherable form, around the outside of the stone. Alot of interpretation was needed - you could not tell if a single carved line was an arm, a leg, a whole person, or even something not related to the sacrifices at all. That said, with our circumstantial investigations and professional team, we thought we had it mostly figured out.

There was, however, something I did not understand. The ritual was long, hours even, and probably not entirely pleasant for the woman being sacrificed. This bothered me. Would the woman, laying on this rock, not want to flee? What stopped her? No evidence of any restraints could be found, not at the site, or in the drawings. Were they so devout, that they would give up their life willingly in this way? Other cultures at the time typically sacrificed other humans by force - they were prisoners of war, or condemned men with no choice. But the women sacrificed at this temple just seemed - well, normal. We knew they chose women because the temple was for their maternal deity, but apart from that, nothing stood out about the victims. It seemed that one day, apparently, these ordinary women go off and allow themselves to be sacrificed. This didn't make sense to me.

One night, after a long day at the temple with super-fine brushes and absurdly delicate tools, this question was bugging me more than usual. Nobody else on the team could explain it either - not even the oh-so-important team leader Dr. Richards.

I need to stop here and mention something about Dr. Richards. I said we made a good team. We do. But Dr. Richards, for all his ability as a leader and an archaeologist, gets on my nerves. There's a couple of reasons why. One is that he feels superior to the rest of us, and it shows. Maybe he is better, but I consider it unprofessional to act that way around others. He's awkward too, which compounds some of these communication problems he seems to create. I don't mind awkward people (in science and research, it's very common), but I'd rather a team leader be more of a people-person. He also has what I would call an unhealthy dedication to his work. If something gets him good results, and good data, and something to publish, then he doesn't give much thought to anything else that might be involved. You might think that sounds like a good quality for a scientist, but in practice, it can be a pain.

But my biggest issue with Dr. Richards, which I think is ESPECIALLY unprofessional considering his position, is his 'casual' sexism. I'm not the only woman out here that thinks this - one of the PhD students in our group is a young woman named Claire, and I found after confiding in her one day that she is also annoyed by it. It's not that often it happens, but every now and then he will just make some inappropriate or thoughtless comment towards us - and honestly, I find it hard to look past it. For example, undue comments on appearance, or my age, are not OK. I can't decide if he's a decent guy who is just a bit behind with the times, or a chauvinist who is good at hiding it. It can be hard to see who people really are, when they aren't that great at communicating with people.

Anyway, rant over, back to the problem at hand...

So, why would these 3000-year-old women not try to escape from certain death? One night, I just had to find out. It was late, but I couldn't sleep with this on my mind. I felt that this gap in our understanding was just too big, and I couldn't ignore it any longer. I quietly got down from my hammock, trying not to wake anyone. It was around midnight and about as cold as it gets in the rainforest. It sent a brief chill down my spine once I got out from under the covers, as I was just sleeping in my T-shirt and rather minimally-sized panties (and a layer of bug repellent spray). The humidity too - oh God, the humidity - my T-shirt stuck to my boobs like cling-film. I took to wearing a jacket over the top, despite the heat, just to cover it up. My breasts are fairly above-average in size too, so trust me, the effect is hard to ignore! Other problems in the rainforest - my hair. It's brown and shoulder length - great in theory, but an utter mess in the rainforest. I tied it in a slap-dash bow behind my back, and put on my shorts, jacket, and shoes. Tonight, I was going to solve this mystery.

I left the camp for the temple. I left alone, and didn't think I had woken anyone on my way out. I kinda didn't want anyone to know I was this obsessed. I would be back before sunrise, when the early-risers first got up. I took a torch and my equipment bag, and made my way to the temple.

My plan was, in short, not a fantastic one. I planned do what they do in crime-fiction novels - specifically what they do in the not-very-accurate crime-fiction novels: The detective would enter the crime scene, and imagine themselves as the criminal. In this way, they could think like the criminal, figure out what they did, and uncover more clues (usually with some ludicrous leap of judgement).

That was basically my plan - I would be the human sacrifice, just for tonight. Maybe, in some strange sequence of events, that would uncover the mystery.

It took me half an hour to reach the temple. It was easier to trek at night, cooler and less humid than during the day. I ascended the main steps and entered the temple. It was dark, very dark. There was no light pollution out here, so in the temple itself it was as dark as it gets. I left my torch in the corner pointing at the ceiling, its relative brightness being enough to illuminate the entire interior of the temple.

The first thing I noticed was how warm it was. The temple was cooler than outside during the day, but was also apparently warmer than the outside at night. Uncomfortably warm, almost. I took off my jacket, and my equipment bag, and left them by my torch in the corner.

There was the sacrificial stone. I started the process of 'becoming the sacrifice' in my mind, and started to follow the ritual as the female victim would. Like I said, we knew roughly how this ritual went from the drawings and other circumstantial evidence, so we knew how it started; the woman was helped onto the rock by four men. I didn't have those men with me, but could easily do the feat myself. Straight away, another mystery occurred to me; why be helped onto the rock? It is only 1 metre high and with a slight incline, any woman could easily climb on this herself, without help. Perhaps the women were incapacitated, or sick? But we found no other evidence of this, so maybe the men were there for another reason?

So I climbed onto the rock. Not strictly allowed, since it was an ancient artefact - but nobody would know I was here, so no harm done.

For most of the rest of the carvings describing the ritual, the woman did not move - in fact, the drawings of her after this point didn't have much detail at all of the woman. What position she was in was still hard to ascertain. So, in keeping with my 'become the sacrifice' idea, I tried some different positions out. Hands by sides? Nope, doesn't make sense with the rest of the ritual, as that would make the body-painting bit too difficult. Spread-eagle? Nope, the stone isn't large enough to do that, my arms hang over the sides and quickly become tired.

The breakthrough came when I adjusted myself after trying a few positions, and my hand slipped momentarily into one of the large holes that was bored into the top of the stone.

Was that it? Maybe they weren't blood-draining holes, maybe they were holes for the woman's arms! There were four of these holes - arms and legs! That's it!

I couldn't wait to tell the others. This would explain it so well!

But, I had to be sure. I didn't want to make a fool of myself by running off in the middle of the night, and coming back with the wrong explanation. So I continued my investigative method, and tried it out for myself. I slipped my feet into the bottom two holes first - big enough for my feet, even with my large trekking boots on. The holes were about 1.5ft apart, a fairly comfortable and "ergonomic" distance for such a purpose. The arm holes were a little more awkward to get my hands into. They were now positioned behind my back, and were only about 3 inches apart. Maybe they aren't arm holes after all, but still, it's worth a try. I put my hands behind me and squeezed them into the holes. They fit, at least.

I carefully lowered my hands a little further, testing the theory a bit more. These holes were angled a bit, maybe 30 degrees, angled down in the same direction as the top of the stone. This made getting my hands down into them a little tricky, but still doable. But by this point, I was losing faith in my theory - this isn't ergonomic at all, so probably isn't why the holes are here.

Then, without warning, I made a mistake that proved my theory correct. One of my hands slipped on some loose rock in one of the holes, and I lost grip with both hands. Both my arms fell, with my weight above them, down into the two holes. When I finally regained my grip on the inside of the holes, my arms were in up nearly to my elbows, which were now rather uncomfortably forced quite close together behind my back.

I immediately realised the problem. With all my weight resting on my arms, I couldn't get my hands out! Fuck! I tensed up, to stop my arms falling further down the holes. Shit! Shit! Shit! I tried moving one hand up a bit, but it just slipped down further. Then the other hand slipped even more. Then my feet slipped about a foot further into their holes. I struggled and struggled, but my arms did nothing but sink further down into the holes, until my arms were in the holes completely up to my elbows. My feet had also by now become locked in place in the bottom holes - as much as I tried, I could not remove them, not without getting my arms out first.

My arms and legs were hopelessly stuck in their respective holes.

Mystery solved at least. This is how the girls were restrained. My theory was correct!

However, now I am restrained in the same way. And if history is anything to go by, this is not a position that a woman can escape from alone. What on earth do I do?

The position I had ended up in was neither enjoyable nor dignified. The incline of the arm holes, which pointed them partly forwards, combined with my feet becoming locked further into the bottom holes, meant my whole body was arched over backwards. Having my elbows forced so close together behind me also added to this effect - and was in itself pretty uncomfortable. My legs were also now being held embarrassingly far apart, but I could not bring them together as my feet had slipped too far down into their holes.

I couldn't let anyone find me like this! But I just cannot escape either! In fact, I can barely move at all! My guess was that my current position was the position that the unlucky girls of the past found themselves in. Totally inescapable, yet ingeniously simple.

Despite all the evidence pointing to escape being impossible, I still frantically looked around for a way out. I could not see much though, because of the strained posture I found myself in. I could see neither the arm or leg holes directly - all I could see was the stone immediately around my head, my torso arched-up in front of me, the side of my outwardly-pointing thighs, and the ancient temple that surrounded me. Eventually, with my neck aching from the fruitless search for a method of escape, I rested my head back onto the stone and gave up.

I would just have to wait until tomorrow, when someone found me and could help me out. Claire, the female PhD student, was an early riser, and would probably be the first here. That, at least, would save me some embarrassment. And like her, I was also an early-riser, so a search party coming to look for me was unlikely once they realised I was not in my hammock.

Still, there was a long way to go until morning.


Part 2

The humidity, like the temperature, was higher in the temple than it was outside, or in my tent for that matter. This started to make things a little unpleasant. My T-shirt went back to sticking against my breasts. My arched-back posture, and the closeness of my elbows behind me, helped this embarrassing effect considerably, by pronouncing my already larger-than-average breasts about as far out as was physically possible. Not much was left to the imagination, and this was not a position I liked. I really did not want my colleagues to see me this way, not even Claire. We had had the usual share of 'bonding' experiences as a group - well, mainly the constant wardrobe problems and shared BO experience you get on expeditions in this climate - but this was too much for that really, my body felt too exposed.

However, accepting I would need rescue, I quietened down, and I tried to rest for a bit. But that was hard to do. I was achy. I was sweating. I was groaning in frustration at being unable to move. It would be 6 hours until sunrise, 2 more after that until Claire probably arrived. This is why you tell people when you go out hiking alone - nobody at the camp knew I was missing.

So it was pretty unexpected when, after what I think was only about 20 minutes of 'rest', I heard a familiar sound approaching through from the ambience of the rainforest. Footsteps. Someone was here? They must have noticed me leave, and followed me to see what I was up to. I couldn't tell who it was - but I was just glad I would be rescued earlier than I thought!

They ascended the steps to the temple, and I saw their torch flicker across the ancient roof. I tried to see who it was, but in my arched-back position, I could not see the door, as that view was embarrassingly blocked by my larger-than-average breasts, which had been thrust up in front of me by my backward-arching posture. Maybe if my breasts were smaller and less obstructive, I could have seen the door, but now was not the time to dwell on that.

"Help!!!" I shouted to whoever was approaching, and the slow footsteps turned into a run. They had heard me. They reached the door quickly, but then just stood there.

"Sarah? Is that you?" said the voice at the door.

Aw fuck, it's Dr. Richards - I would rather it be any of the other guys than this man, this is just my luck. At least it's someone though.

"Yeah it's me, I'm stuck! You have to help me out of here!"

Dr. Richards strolled over, contrasting my appeals for urgency with a more casual approach. He could see I was basically fine, so clearly didn't feel the need to rush.

"I heard you leave just after midnight, what are you doing here?"

He walked to the side of me, and I saw a familiar expression on his face. Pure academic curiosity. The kind only the most idealistic scientists seem to get.

Whatever I told him, this was going to be an awkward conversation, so I just told him the truth about what I was doing and how I found myself in this position.

"I was, err, investigating how the women were restrained before being sacrificed."

He didn't say anything, still looking over the scenario I was in, taking it in.

I continued; "I think... I think this is how it was done."

"I can see, you really can't get out of there, can you?"

I struggled a little to show him.

"No, I can't!" I was happy to show him the magnitude of my predicament. I was RIGHT, and now someone had arrived to rescue me. I'd call that a successful experiment, albeit a strange one.

I told him about the next part of my theory; "Those men helping the women in the carvings too - they aren't helping her, they're forcing her into this position. I think we we're wrong on that too."

"Wow Sarah, I'm impressed. This is quite a breakthrough!" I enjoyed that rare compliment from him, but I still wanted to get loose though.

"OK, now help me out of here!"

He ignored my plea and continued to talk like an academic;

"So how did you figure this out, Sarah?"

"I thought if I acted out the role of the woman being sacrificed, I could get a better understanding of the ritual."

"Well it's worked! You've solved two unsolved problems. Nicely done!"

His eyes were scanning the rock, the holes... and my body. Was this still pure academic curiosity, or something more? My T-shirt was tight and sticky, my short khaki shorts riding up my waist...

"Dave, please, help me out of here!" I sounded more desperate this time, and as I struggled once more, he watched my body strain. Why is he not helping me out? I could see something different in his eyes, an expression I don't think I've seen him quite put on before. Was it a weird kind of pleasure? Could he be enjoying this? Is this his "real" self breaking though his professional decorum? Or is he just awkwardly overwhelmed with the sight of my feminine figure in my tight-fitting soggy clothes.

"But Sarah, you've already solved two puzzles this way, what more could we learn with this 'acting out' method of yours? There are other issues that have been bugging me, maybe we can solve them tonight, together."

I kept struggling. It was still impossible to get any purchase on the holes that were trapping my arms and legs. As I struggled some more, he walked around the stone, and around me, looking more closely at the holes.

"Clever design, this. The weight of the victim holds them in place. No moving parts, and only needs the most basic of technology to create. All you are fighting is yourself, in a way, so nothing else is needed! Damn clever design, this stone. Yet it was so simple, that we never even spotted it."

It's like he's on another planet. We aren't at a conference, you imbecile! Get me out!

"Dr. Richards, I'm demanding that you help me out of here!" I plead again for his help.

"I have a better idea." He retorted, "And I'm in charge here, so I decide what we do as a team."

"What?!!" I didn't know what to say. What is he talking about! Help me up! Forget your stupid sense of superiority for 5 seconds.

"I think we should continue the ritual, with you as the female victim. We could discover so much more in the process. I won't really sacrifice you of course - but the ritual up until then still has alot about it we don't understand. We could find out now, with you!"

"I... but?" Was he serious? I was speechless.

Dr. Richards took off his backpack and took out his notes. He can't really go through the whole ritual with me! The ritual is so long, and ... degrading. He can't do this, it's extremely unprofessional!

He found the start of his notes on the sacrifice ritual, and began to read them out loud, I guess for me to hear and take in.

"'First the female is carried onto the stone by four men, where she remains motionless for the rest of the ritual, apparently of her own free will.' WRONG! This will need so much redoing, thanks to you. Like you said, it looks like the men force the woman into place, one limb each. I'd guess most girls aren't like you, and wouldn't restrain themselves!"

He laughed, I didn't.

He flicked back a page or two. I had borrowed his notes a few times - that part concerned the status of the woman before the ceremony, how they were picked, and the other preparations that were made.

"Sarah, you haven't followed this exactly, have you? The women is clothed in simplistic, minimal attire. These women wore the 'underwear' of the time, at the start of the ritual. That T-shirt and those shorts, and those boots! They aren't right at all, we have to set that right before we continue."

"Dave, don't you dare!"

"Sarah, this is history in the making! Do you want to be a part of it or not?"

He started to undo my shorts. I could hardly stop him. He pulled them down, leaving my panties exposed. But, with my legs stuck apart by the leg-holes, he could only pull them down to my knees.

"Oh, well this won't do." He got out his pocket knife, and cut my short from my bare legs.

"Dammit, Dave, you're paying for those, they weren't cheap!"

"I'll add it to our expenses form, don't worry, you'll be reimbursed."

This was the overly-professional, awkward, work-obsessed, up-himself Dr. Richards I hated. All he wanted was to make some big discovery, and make sure the numbers add up at the end - nothing else matters, not to him. He thinks reimbursing me makes things right, rather than just treating me right.

With my shorts gone, the light breeze from the door now ran all the way up to the top of my thighs. I was glad, at least, that it wasn't as cold in here as it was outside.

My panties, though - well, they didn't exactly cover much up. I could not see them, but could feel that they were becoming damp from all the humidity and sweat. I feared they would be partially see-through, and that Dr. Richards could get a nice good look at what I had going on down there. I momentarily thought about asking him about it, but of course, that would just be absurd.

"Your top half - you know, the half of you above your waist - it's still totally wrong, that T-shirt is nothing like what they would have had back then."

"Dave..." I tried to get his attention by being more personal, but he was still miles away. So I went back to being affirmative with him;

"Dr. Richards... you can't do this! I don't have anything on under this T-shirt, you can't remove it!"

Note to reader: err... yeah, wearing a bra in the rainforest climate wasn't working out for me, so I decided to stop wearing one. Unless you've tried trekking through 100% humidity with size D breasts for days on end, they you're in no position to judge me about this.

"Oh, I see." He agreed with me that this was a problem. He did, however, have a different solution to the one I wanted, as he explained;

"Well, in my opinion there's a more important issue here with regards to that T-shirt you're wearing. That T-shirt will interfere with the later parts of the ritual, you see, such as the body painting." He peeked a few pages ahead in his notes. "It's a shame you have no underwear with you, Sarah, but the T-shirt needs to go for this ritual to be accurately recreated. If we don't do it properly, then this whole exercise is pointless, so it has to be done."

He brought his pen-knife to the hem at the bottom of my T-shirt.

"Dave, please!"

He didn't listen, of course. Slowly and carefully, he started to cut my tatty T-shirt off my sweaty, straining body.

"I wonder if the women of 3000 years ago complained like you are doing now? Hey, I guess that I am 'assuming the role' of the person making the sacrifice, like what you're doing! This could be even more productive than I thought!"

His enthusiasm picked up at the thought of this idea; "I might make some breakthroughs along the way aswell! Or at least have some extra insights about their society and their customs."

The knife blade slid through the thin fabric of my T-shirt, and steadily it was cut in two. He went carefully up to around my belly-button, then slightly more confidently on up to my chest. I could do nothing as he cut through my T-shirt - the only item I had on to protect my shapely, bra-less breasts from the indignation of unprotected exposure to the outside world. He was very careful not to touch me with the knife, and I knew he kept his penknife very sharp, so I suppressed my instinct to resist being degradingly stripped by him, and instead I kept as still as I could. I don't want to be naked, but getting cut and potentially infected out here would be worse, so I was forced to grit and bear it. I rested my head back on the stone - as a precaution - as he approached my collar and sliced his blade effortlessly through it, and then finished with a few more cuts to the sleeves. This then allowed him to completely remove of the only garment covering my top half of my body. Wasting no time once the cutting was done, he pulled my T-shirt over up my head, and off my body completely.

I was left topless, and felt utterly humiliated. I was totally unable to cover myself up from him. I decided to no longer fight the clearly inescapable restraints, once more deciding to do little more than to try and relax my tired muscles. My tactile interaction with the world around me was limited to just the sacrificial stone that had trapped my limbs, a pair of hiking boots, some inadequately small panties, and the soft breeze from the front entrance, now flowing freely over nearly every part of my naked, sweaty skin.

Our group here, the 6 of us, had been working here in the rainforest for a few weeks before now. Before this time, I had not given a second thought to my wearing of skimpy, tatty clothes around Dr. Richards and the other members of the group. It's inevitable in this climate that alot of skin will be on display, and it's an accepted fact that we won't look 100% dignified for each other all the time out here. You grow accustomed to it, bit by bit.

But this situation here, on the sacrificial stone - this had gone far beyond that. Dr. Richards has a full, unobstructed, and (thanks to my arched posture and closely-packed elbows) well-presented view of my most intimate features. He could casually circle the stone to obtain a perfect view of my whole bare upper body, especially my protruding larger-than-average breasts, which (from my bend perspective at least) were the most striking features on my arched, tired body. But he could alternately take as long as he wanted to gaze over the entirety of my fit, curvy legs and exposed, mildly-toned stomach.

My panties had at this point ridden up my crotch a considerable distance; this was an unintended side-effect of my previous long and useless struggle to get free. This had allowed my shapely backside to join my curvy thighs in Dr. Richards unobstructed view of my lower body. The panties also had become drawn in pretty tightly into my crotch, as the sides had ridden up over my hips, spurred on by the inward slope of my hourglass figure as they had slowly climbed over my hips. I could still not see them, but I could feel how much my sweaty, damp panties had been pushed up against my most intimate areas, and I had little doubt that the dampness had made my panties become partially transparent, making them now all but useless at protecting my last remaining thread of personal dignity.

And for me, what made the embarrassment even worse was that Mr. Richards, the man so intent on stripping me bare, didn't seem to be acknowledging me at all! As he walked to the entrance to leave my shredded T-shirt with the rest of my things, I don't think he even looked back. I would have thought a man would enjoy, in some way, the chance to glance up my near-naked crotch, my curvy (and forcibly-separated) thighs and buttocks, and the underside of my naked breasts. I felt both conflicted and confused about his actions towards me. Had he even just ogled me, I would have felt upset, and objectified - but his LACK of response to me, his obsession with getting results and insight over addressing me and my objections - that was almost worse than if he had just ogled me. I've grown up to be used to getting the 'wrong' kind of attention from men, but not to being ignored by them. I'm near-naked and feel stripped of nearly all of my dignity, but he doesn't even seem to be acknowledging that fact - that's if his warped mind even realises what he is doing here.

This is the worst side of Mr. Richards that I've experienced, that I ranted about earlier. Self-centred, superior, and obsessed with results. My dignity, my freedom, even my physical body, just do not seem to be of concern to him anymore. I felt not like an object, but like a pawn, and that is what I found the most degrading of all.


Part 3

I tried to plead more softly to him, trying to get the message across to him that his actions - stripping me naked except for a pair of hiking boots and tiny panties - were NOT OK!!

"Dave, please, I don't like this, stop."

He kept reading his notes, ignoring me, too engrossed in the ritual to notice what I said. He repeatedly glanced back at me, and to his notes, and then to the illustrations on the stone - comparing all three for consistency.

"Good, good! You look alot like the illustrations now! They lack detail, but the major features are certainly all there."

He walked a few yards to the side of me, and bent down to near my eyeline, analysing the profile of my posture from directly side-on.

"Your breasts are the highest part of you, Sarah! This must be why the breasts featured prominently in these illustrations - your position and posture on the stone emphasises them, makes them very noticeable, more prominent than usual. Maybe this ritual is not about maternity after all, as we thought."

He slowly walked around to the other side of me, observing and analysing my body, and comparing it to his literature. I shifted my weight over to follow him and face him;

"Dave, the way you are talking about me, it is very degrading, I don't like it. You need to respect me, this way you're talking about me... what you're doing to me, it is unacceptable for someone like you. Please see that, Dave."

He looked up from his notes and over to me. I got his attention; either my plea finally got through to him, or the jiggling of my boobs that took place when I shifted my weight was of some scientific interest. Either way, he remained silent. His attention moved back to the diagrams carved onto the sides of the stone I was stuck to. He leant down to get a closer look.

"What is that? Maybe.... with all this noise, I'm starting to think this object placed on the woman on the 4th panel, might be put in the mouth of the woman? That would keep her quiet, and allow the rest of the ritual to be carried out more peacefully."

"Dave, no!"

"Sarah, I am putting myself in the mind of the 3000-year-old chief carrying out the sacrifice. If I were him, your constant talking and noise-making would be something I would try to stop. I believe that the object in the 4th panel is a gag because of this, and will test my hypothesis - this could be another discovery we've made together. That would be the third one, and we've only been here about an hour! The progress we are making is incredible!"

He looked around, presumably for a suitable gag. He couldn't find one.

"Well, this will have to do as a gag then, just for this test"

He walked back to the entrance, and picked up my torn T-shirt. He tore off a large chunk, and another longer, thin piece of cloth.

"Ugh, pretty sweaty and dirty this thing. But unfortunately I don't have anything better."

I clamped my mouth shut. He is NOT putting that thing in my mouth.

"Mhhhh!"

He didn't resist me as I expected, or try to pry open my mouth. He strangely tried reasoning with me.

"Sarah, the discoveries we could make this way... you could be famous! Do you really want to stand in the way of that?"

I kept my mouth shut. I'm mostly-nude, slightly chilly, sweaty, aching all over, and he wants to put the disgusting cloth that he cut from my naked chest into my mouth, to stop me from talking to him. He has to stop.

"Oh Sarah, you have such potential..."

Dr. Richards ran his hand down the side of my torso, and when it reached my waist, he tickled me! I gasped, and somehow in that brief moment, he shoved the larger chunk of that tatty, dirty T-shirt into my mouth. I struggled relentlessly, even trying to force it out with my tongue, but he easily overpowered me. Careful to make sure I wouldn't spit it out, he brought the longer, thinner piece around my head several times, and slowly tied it tight - very tight - behind the back of my head. It wasn't coming off, I could tell. I shouted again, but it was muffled. Damn thing was working.

"Effective! Shout again, as loud as you can."

I complied. Still clearly audible, but not loud enough to, say, interfere with the ritual too much, or interrupt someone speaking loudly. The fucker was right, the object in the diagram was probably a gag after all.

"You look so much like the picture, Sarah! You should see yourself! Actually, that reminds me..."

He reached back into his bag. He took out a camera!

"Mhhh! Mhhh!"

Off came the lens cap.

"Flash on... I'll take a few test shots to begin with."

*Snap* *Snap* *Snap*

"These are good, but Sarah, you're quite sweaty. The flash is being reflected off your skin quite alot, and creating a bit of lens flare. We need to get you cleaned up."

He took out a small flannel from his bag.

"Great for humid environments, this flannel - it's just a little towel really - I told you it would come in handy eventually."

He began to systematically clean my near-nude body with the small flannel. For all the humiliation I had experienced so far from him, barely touched me physically until now, so it came as quite a shock. He was sliding his hands over every part of me. Up my legs and round my thighs and buttocks, over my stomach, round my breasts, down my arms, and over my back. He even ran it over my groin, giving a brief go at drying the small section of cloth on my soggy, stupid panties, but that didn't make much difference. I did feel a little better with my sweat cleaned off afterwards though, and I felt slightly warmer in the ever-present breeze, which was getting a little chilly as the night went on.

*Snap* *Snap* *Snap*

"Ah yes, much better. Now we can start some proper documentation of this intriguing posture of yours."

He took some more shots, and compared the image on the screen to the carvings. He was clearly pleased with the result.

"This is going to amaze the guys back at the university, it really is. I'm thinking the best way to present the results, would be to have you one one side of the slide, and the equivalent carving on the other. That way, we can compare your body, posture, and features, to the ones represented in the carvings. Once people see the similarities between the two; the gag, your posture, the exaggeration of your breasts... they will be totally convinced that we have found the correct interpretation of the ritual."

The day my breasts appear in a scientific presentation will be the day hell freezes over, you nut-case.

But, as much as he was humiliating me, I knew that without my consent, my picture could not appear in any publication. And I knew that Dr. Richards knew this too. That would be one thing off my mind, at least. He was sure taking alot of photos though, he's doesn't usually take this many at other excavations.

"You're doing great, Sarah - this is world class research. This could even be a new field, discovery through recreation, archaeological psychology ... and you could be the co-founder!"

Co-founder? I thought of this myself! Humiliate me AND take credit for my work? You fucking worm, Richards.

He continued to walk around me, taking dozens of photographs, while I continued to sit immobile, helpless, on the stone slab. Some of the photos were wide shots of the whole temple, while others were close ups of the stone itself, and the holes that were restraining me. But the object which received by far the most attention was my contorted, near-naked body. My breasts needed to be well documented, of course, because of the pronounced breasts that appear in the carvings. My arched posture was also well documented, with close-ups along my legs and my arms, my back and buttocks, and my gagged, exhausted face as it rested on the stone, and stared passively back at the camera. He also took photos from overhead, with more close-ups of my breasts, as well as my stomach and pelvic region.

While he was at it, he could have at least bothered to re-adjust the one remaining piece of clothing I had left - my panties - back to their correct position. They were slightly hurting by now because of the extent that they were digging in to my groin region. Each little movement I made to relieve the pain, only caused the panties to ride up my hips even further, making it worse and pushing them more into my privates. So I tried to hold perfectly still instead, ignoring the distraction of Dr. Richards as he ducked and dived around me, getting every important angle and preserving every exposed bit of skin I had on me for posterity.

Like I said, I was not too bothered by the pictures. My faith that he would not use these photos without permission - because of his enthusiasm for doing everything in the most technically correct way possible - outweighed my fear that these photos might be displayed somewhere. When I get out of here, I will just tell him he can't use them, and he will have no other option than to destroy the photos. I think.

"You look great, Sarah, I must say. You are a good-looking girl." he said gleefully as he finished, and packed away his camera. "If you don't mind me saying, you look fit and have great ... proportions."

Well thanks, you self-centred, awkward, ignorant dick head. He returned to his notes, preparing for the next stage of the ritual.

" 'Now, the girl was made completely pure, in preparation for the afterlife. She was now stripped completely, and the hairs from her body were removed using an as-yet undetermined natural mixture, possibly used in a similar fashion to waxing.' This sound fun, doesn't it?"

"MHHHH!" My panties were all I had left of my dignity. Why are there no panties in the afterlife? Why? Even over-stretched, tiny, soggy, useless panties like mine? Is there no justice here?

He used his knife, and cut them free with ease. In all honesty, it was actually a relief - they were no longer digging in to me, and my wet groin had been getting a bit cold because of those soggy panties. I shivered, briefly, as he removed the panties. He noticed, and decided to be his strange version of thoughtful towards me... he got out the flannel, and dried my pussy.

As well intentioned as it was, he was much too rough, and I hated it. I struggled as best I could, and gave muffled shouts to him. I felt violated. He was being too over-enthusiastic again, and I didn't like it at all. Luckily, this time, he actually noticed my displeasure at what he was doing.

"OK! OK! I'll be gentle then, Sarah." Dr. Richards then had an idea;

"Actually, I'll just hold the flannel up here, and you can dry yourself, how about that?"

He held the flannel right above my groin. I could not see it of course, but I could feel that it was being held right above my bush, as it lightly tickled the tips of my pubes. I knew what he meant - his plan was to hold the flannel still, and let me do the drying - I would rub my damp pussy up against the flannel in the manner that I wanted, and he would not move it at all. I would be in control. The sensation of touch was more than enough to guide me. I thrust my groin up into the flannel, and then forwards and backwards, to dry my damp bush as best I could. It took lots of effort to move my crotch around in this way, because of the harsh and restrictive position I was being held in - but I'd still rather do this than have Dr. Richards overstep his boundaries and do it himself.

Dr. Richards noticed the effort needed for me to move my groin around his flannel; of course, I was nude, and I could see him observing my body while I was drying myself. He could see every contracting muscle, every tendon being pulled, every joint flex in my naked body. He held the flannel perfectly still for me, and in return, he got to see me work my naked arse off to move my groin around an inch or two.

But it was more than just drying my bush. For the first time in over an hour of humiliation and degradation, I was back in control. Dr. Richards just held the flannel, and I controlled where it went, and when, and with how much force. I didn't mind that it was killing my muscles to work against this devilish stone trap - it was worth it, because I could decide what happened, just for now, while Richards just sat and watched. I didn't even mind that he had now apparently developed a keen interest in the female figure - at least he was acknowledging me, and what I was doing and wanted, even if it was to some pathetically small degree, with some unbelievably humiliating task. Maybe when there's no research or hypothesis testing, Dr. Richards is just like any other man. I don't think he took his eyes off me the whole time I was drying my crotch on his flannel.

I guess there could have been a physiological interest for him, something I knew interested him. The muscles in my buttocks and thighs were working hard as I could push them, and I flexed my stomach and arm muscles tremendously to produce the back-and-forth rubbing action on the flannel. I'm a fit girl, toned in most of those areas already - damn, he should want to see me work my fit nude body into a healthy sweat. It would be strange not to. I felt good that he was watching me, ogling me, while I did this one task. I was just happy he was paying attention for once.

I finished drying after brushing my vagina against his flannel a good two dozen times or so. I had to stop eventually, as the action was just too exhausting. I fell back into my 'natural' pose, while trapped in this ancient stone, and Dr. Richards responded by moving his flannel slowly - and gently - over my bush. This time, because I had taken control, and because he was so gentle with it, I let him dry me off, and didn't find it unpleasant, like his first attempt had been.

After that unconventional bonding moment we shared, my privates were dry and as warm as the rest of me, and their exposure to the air had finally rendered me completely nude (except for a pair of hiking boots). But, if I am being honest with myself, then I have to admit - it felt better with the panties off.

Amazing how you come to appreciate the little things. You know, little things like having a dry bush and having a comfortably nude crotch.

Dr. Richards opened up his notes again. I had almost forgotten what the next stage in making me 'pure' would be. The removal of all body hair. Oh joy.

He leant over my crotch and had a good look at what needed to be done. As he did so, my insecurity over my nudity - which I had managed to briefly suppress - began to re-emerge. And of course, Richards was back to his research-obsessed, unthoughtful, inappropriate self.

"Oh, Sarah. You are very neat, but that is not pure enough I'm afraid. We will need to remove the rest of that bush you have there. You need to be completely 'clean' for the next stage of the ritual."

He was referring to my 'trimmed' bush. A thin strip, but still there. Shaving it on my own terms was hard enough, and he was going to use some weird natural wax to pull them off while I was stuck like this? I turned away from him as I started to feel the embarrassement I had about him seeing my nudity return once more. By "turned away", I mean by turning my pelvis sideways as much as the stone would allow me. It wasn't much, but he noticed. He seemed to be considerate towards what I wanted a moment ago, so maybe he'd let me off this one too. I don't want my bush waxed, goddamit! It's the most painful way to do something I don't even want to do at all, and you can still do the body-paint stage with a tiny little patch of pubic hair.

Richardson, however, was definitely back to normal. He placed one hand on my hip, and firmly pulled my pelvis back towards him, signifying his dismissal of my defiant gesture.

"Sarah, don't be daft. Just because you try and hide it from me, doesn't mean we can skip this part. We need you clean-shaven."

He checked under my armpits.

"Clean here, you're legs are shaven nicely too. Just the, err, pelvis that needs attending too then."

He ruffled back through his bag, mumbling. This was silly - he just doesn't have anything to use to wax me with him. Will he stop when he realises this?

"Dammit, how will I do this part? I can't wax you without any wax!" He paused for thought. "Well, the actual method doesn't make much difference, I guess. Back then, they didn't have shavers, and their crude method was all they were capable of. We can use a more modern method."

He looked to the entrance, then back to me. Naked, uncomfortable me.

"I have a shaver back at the camp, but that will take 40 minutes at least to get it. Can I leave you here for that long?"

"NHHH!" Are you nuts? Just let me out already!

"I need to make sure you'll be safe, Sarah... I need to keep an eye on you while I'm gone."

He reached into MY bag, and started pulling out items. I hadn't repacked my bag since yesterday, so all the stuff we had used yesterday was still there. And Dr. Richards pulled out what he wanted - my laptop and portable transmitter. We used them to keep in contact with the base camp, while we're out working in the field.

"I'll set up a webcast of you, and transmit it to base camp on the portable transmitter. I'm not very tech savvy, so I'll just use the default options. I'll check on you on my laptop every now and then to make sure you're OK. Any trouble, and I'll run straight back, OK?"

He positioned the laptop on a ledge on the wall of the temple, and faced it towards me side-on. He took his torch, and placed it next to it, to give me some extra light. I could see what the laptop could see, on the screen. I was there, naked and humiliated, and helpless, under the spotlight, in the middle of the frame.

"Ok, and.... yup, default options..." He looked to his laptop. "Great, I can see you!" He waved to check the images were in sync. "All looks good, see you in 40 minutes or so!"


Part 4

"MHHH!" Just as he left, I realised exactly what the fuck Dr. Richards had done. Default settings was to broadcast back to basecamp, and THEN to broadcast it back to the public university network, via the satellite link at the camp! Anyone could log in and see the webcast! Anyone could log in and see me like this!

I stared at the screen in fear. There was a small counter in the corner, barely readable, which told me how many people were logged in and watching the webcast. In normal field work, this was rarely above 5 or so. Currently it sat on 1, which would be Dr. Richards, who had left his laptop on as he made his way back to base camp. I prayed to the ancient gods of this temple that it stayed on 1.

I tried to see if I could cover up from the camera, only if just a little bit, and protect at least a little bit of my modesty from anyone who happened to stumble onto this webcast. The side-on and overhead angle Richards had setup gave a good view of the following; my gagged and desperate face, my large jiggling boobs, my neatly-trimmed bush, my curvy thighs, and the side of my equally curvy buttocks. I leant from side to side as much as I could, but all the main features were still clearly visible, no matter how much I tried to roll my body away. So in addition to my most intimate features, people could also see just how humiliatingly helplessness I was. Anyone who tuned in would not take long to figure out that I was completely stuck in this humiliating, boob-expanding, pelvis-thrusting, can-barely-move-an-inch, butt-naked pose.

Over the course of the past hour or so, I had almost grown accustomed to Dr. Richards looking at my body. I'm not fond of him and we aren't connected by anyone socially, and I would probably never see him again after this expedition was finished. Him seeing me nude and helpless would be humiliating, but it would only be temporary, and I'd probably never hear about it again.

But now, ANYONE could see me like this! Anyone could see what I never intended anyone I know, except my boyfriend, to see. And I'm a professional, I actually have a career! How professional do I look when my helpless, naked body is being streamed onto the web?

OK, let's try and assess the situation a bit. So what are the chances someone will actually see this webcast then? That depends on how many people are working at the university back home, I guess. And that mostly depends on what time it is back home? Since it's, what, 2am here? So back home... back home, it would be around lunch-time! Fuck, that's almost the busiest time of the day! So what is the chance someone will be browsing the webcasts? Too fucking high, someone is going to see this!

I HAVE to escape, I just have to!

I tried to do the pointless thing again, I tried to get loose. The thought, the SHAME, of more people seeing this, people I know personally back home, people even RECORDING this, was too much. I ran my hands over the sides of the tubes that trapped them. There just has to be something to grab onto, come on! Sweat was starting to build all over me once more, as my panic levels rose. I tried getting my feet free, but all that did was kick up a load of dust and dirt, which rose into the air violently and then slowly settled all over me, mixing with my sweat, and only succeeded in making my naked body look slightly filthy.

I looked at the laptop, to check the view counter.

2

FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! Someone else had logged in. Someone at base camp? No, it was too soon, and they would still be asleep. Someone at the university must have seen it. Fuck, the default webcasts are public, ANYONE could have seen it. Anyone with an internet connection now had a live feed from the Amazon jungle, of a curvy, dirty, naked post-grad, struggling to escape from some ancient woman trap.

Nothing else could be done, but think about who might be watching. The webcasts were public, but why was that? Oh, of course, it was part of our awareness program. It was designed to get students who are just finishing secondary school interested in archaeology for a career. The academic year has almost finished, so that would be students aged 18-19, on a lunch break, who would have access to the webcasts. How many schools were involved? I can't remember, but I remember giving talks about archaeology to students at a couple schools near the university... God forbid, they might even recognise me.

3

Yup, someone found the webcast, and they told a friend. This is gonna get worse before it gets better.

8

Of course, once horny 18-19 year-old boys have heard about this, they're gonna tell all their friends, and they're gonna tell their friends, and ... it'll go viral.

22

The counter climbed, and my stomach sank. It was too late to stop it now, more and more people would be tuning in to see what was going on down in the Amazon. More and more faceless voyeurs joined, and all I could do is stare at the counter, wishing for it to start going down.

Suddenly, a voice came from the laptop. Of course, we set it up at those schools as a webchat - designed so they can ask questions of the "experts", and we can respond back. I couldn't make out what was being said, but could tell that it was a boy speaking. I obviously couldn't respond, but nonetheless, the boy repeated himself more loudly;

"HOLY FUCK, IS THAT YOU DR. GREENE?"

Great, these must have been kids from one of the schools I gave talks at, and they recognise me. Yes, it's me, Sarah Green. I'm kinda busy at the moment.

There were obviously more boys at this particular computer, and I could hear them talking, discussing what they were looking at.

"You idiot, she's gagged, look, she can't say anything!"

"OK, what do you suggest then?"

There was some more mumbling, and then the loudmouth boy spoke up once more;

"DR. GREEN, IS THAT YOU? WIGGLE YOUR BOTTOM ONCE FOR YES, TWO FOR NO."

You FUCKING KIDS. You could see I was gagged, so you want me to communicate by wiggling my privates around? I WON'T humiliate myself to you like this.

I didn't move, and pretended not to hear them. Engaging with horny 18-19 year-old male students at a time like this will not help me in the slightest. Please just go away.

"I don' think she can hear us, she might be in trouble? Should we get a teacher?"

"I dunno, are you sure she can't hear us? Ask her again, and we'll get a teacher if she still can't hear us."

I weighed up the options. I don't want to involve more people. I guess I have to answer them. The loudmouth came back on to ask the question again;

"DR. GREENE, ARE YOU OK? WIGGLE YOUR BOTTOM ONCE FOR YES, TWO FOR NO."

I guessed I would have to wiggle. I could only manage a few inches, but it was enough for them to see. I wiggled once. Then I heard giggling. Stupid, immature giggling.

"Haha, look at her boobs jiggle around!"

"Shut up you idiot, she can hear us."

The counter was up to 88. That's most of the school's final year boys, probably.

"What's she doing? Why is she naked and bent over like that?"

"Yoga maybe? Does she know we can see her though? She's stark naked!"

"She's stuck I think, and gagged, so we can't ask her can we?"

"Maybe it's a kinky game she's playing, maybe someone else is there we can talk too?"

"IS THERE ANYONE ELSE AT THE TEMPLE?" The loud kid's voice came back booming from the laptop.

Not for another 20 minutes at least, there would be nobody else here.

I wiggled twice, to say 'no'

"Wow, she's hot, isn't she?"

"Yeah, I met her you know. Didn't know she had such big boobs, just look at them!"

"She's shaven down below too, look ... she looks a bit dirty too though, what's she been doing?"

"I dunno, but she hasn't moved an inch - I'm sure she's stuck there, somehow, maybe someone tied her up?"

"Just look at that body though, those tits are incredible, and that Brazilian too... I bet she's dirty, you know, she likes this kind of perverted stuff."

"Yeah. She probably agreed to do something like this, it's exhibitionism. She's loving this."

I wiggled my bottom twice. No, I am not enjoying this.

"Look, she said no."

"Huh?"

"When you said she's enjoying herself, she said no."

"Did she?"

"DR. GREENE, ARE YOU ENJOYING YOURSELF?"

I wiggled twice again, for no.

"Guys, we should get help I think, get a teacher or something"

No, NO! not more people. I wiggled twice again.

"She said no again? She's not enjoying it, but doesn't want help? I'm confused?"

"Maybe she doesn't want people looking at her like this?"

I wiggled for yes. Finally one of them figured it out.

"Yeah, that's right, she doesn't want that at all."

"DR GREENE, DO YOU NOT WANT US TO TELL ANYONE ABOUT YOUR CURRENT SITUATION"

*Wiggle*

"Haha, this is so fucked up guys. Maybe someone put her there?"

"I dunno, but we could have some fun with this, couldn't we?"

"Yeah, tell her to wiggle some more - it makes her tits jiggle about, it's fucking awesome!"

Fun? They hushed their voices even more, and I could no longer hear what they were saying. Then, the loudmouth boy returned.

"DR GREENE, IF YOU DON'T WANT US TO TELL ANYONE ABOUT YOU, WIGGLE YOUR BOOBS FOR US."

What? You little pricks?

"DR GREENE, WIGGLE AROUND, OR WE'LL TELL EVERYONE WHAT YOU'RE DOING"

The other boys were sniggering. What could I do? The counter stood at 120, probably limited to this one school. I could probably keep it there if I played along.

I wiggled for them. I hear them laugh. The humiliation was only made bearable by the thought of what MIGHT happen if they told more people.

"DO IT MORE, I WANT TO SEE MORE OF YOUR BUSH TOO, LET US HAVE A GOOD LOOK"

I tilted my crotch, and kept wiggling about. They were loving it. I guess that's what you get from 18-19 year-old boys.

"DR GREENE, DID YOU SHAVE THAT YOURSELF, OR DID YOUR BOYFRIEND DO IT FOR YOU?"

Fuck me, I'll get you brats for this. I wiggled once.

"DO YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND?"

I wiggled once.

"HAVE YOU EVER HAD AN ORGASM?"

I wiggled once. I wasn't sure why I was bothering to be truthful, they were far more interested in just seeing me move about.

"DR GREENE, THRUST YOUR PUSSY UP AND DOWN FOR US"

"ALSO, WIGGLE YOUR TITS AT THE SAME TIME"

Ah, a challenge. This, I could barely do, but I gave it my best attempt. I had to keep these kids occupied, to limit the damage this could do if it spread any further.

Goddamit Dr. Richards, where are you?

The counter stayed at 120. But then, an older, adult voice appeared from the laptop speakers.

"What are all you boys laughing at? Is that... is that porn?"

I stopped my performance, trying to hear what was happening.

"No sir! It's archaeology - look, it's Dr. Greene, she's re-enacting a ritual of some sort."

I recognised the teacher's voice - I had met him last month.

"Holy hell, Dr. Greene, is that you?" The teacher's voice now came loud and clear over the laptop speakers.

I wiggled once.

"Dr. Green?" The teacher was, understandably, confused.

"We made a system sir, one wiggle for yes, two for no."

"Yeah, she's got a gag in her mouth, so can't talk."

The teacher, I think, didn't quite trust the students on this matter. So he asked me, loudly;

"DR GREENE, IS THIS TRUE, ARE YOU GAGGED THERE?"

I wiggled once. The students laughed.

"Well this is very unusual, but I guess it's educational! I wonder if the other partners in the outreach program are aware of this"

NO! I wiggled twice, but got no response. I wiggled twice more. The teacher was either ignoring me, or just wasn't looking at the screen.

"Well, I would never have thought Dr. Greene the kind of person to take part in something like this!" The teacher thought I was in on this, and was going to tell the other schools. This is bad. I wiggled for 'no' several times again, but nobody gave a response.

"Mr. Stephenson, he'll want to have a look at this - he's been very interested in the work they're doing at the temple, I'm just gonna give him a ring. He can show his students too, I'm sure they'll want to see this. The boys anyway!"

Wiggling wasn't going to stop him now, it would only continue to humiliate myself more. He was on the phone to a neighbouring school, and from then on, the number of viewers would probably keep on going up.

I strained to hear the teacher's phone-call, he was speaking in a hushed tone - I imagine so that I wouldn't hear him;

"Yeah, Dr. Greene, Sarah Greene. Butt-naked on the webcast, literally going on right now! She's tied down to this big rock and gagged, we think for some re-enactment, but there's nobody else there.

"Yeah yeah, she's got one damn nice body too. I'm saving this to a file now. You wouldn't have realised it on meeting her, but she's got one rocking body under there. Those tits, they're way bigger in person than they were under that sweatshirt she wore last month..."

He moved away from the mic, and I couldn't hear him anymore. Not much point in listening though, the stupid childish prats.

"DR. GREENE, ARE YOU IN ANY DANGER?" It was the teacher again, and he sounded concerned.

I jiggled twice, for 'no'.

The teacher went back to his phone call;

"Hahaha, yeah did you see that? She's gagged, so to communicate, she shakes her bottom once for yes, twice for no, it's hilarious. Her tits are just something else, aren't they? Whenever she shakes her bottom, they take on a mind of their own! Yeah, no I dunno how, but yeah. Her boobs are definitely bigger than I remember, and I remember that about women I meet."

Unbelievable. Now, even people thousands of miles away are humiliating me and objectifying me. What a fucking joke.

The counter started to rise sharply, now that the second school had caught on. It rose to over 500, but did not slow down. "Critical mass" had been reached, and people everywhere were tuning in. The counter eventually stuck at 9999 - the highest number the counter goes to. The biggest audience of my academic career, and all I had to do was strip naked and move around a bit.


Part 5

Finally, Dr. Richards returned. And he was followed by the rest of the camp - the 2 male post-grads and the 2 PhD students.

"I'm back! I got some more supplies for later on too while I was there. I also let the rest of the group know what's going on, and they've agreed to help out with the last bit of our mock-ritual."

The rest of the group was clearly aware of the webcast, and were reluctant to move into view. The other post-grads and PhDs stayed near one of the walls. The three boys were obviously powerless not to stare at me. At least Claire tried to pretend to be looking somewhere else.

Dr. Richards' eyes, though, went straight to the laptop screen.

"Holy moley, look at the viewing count! I've never seen it that high!"

He walked into centre-frame, and started to introduce himself;

"Hello everyone, I'm Dr. Richards, the lead archaeologist on this project."

So instead of turning this damn thing off, you're going to INTRODUCE yourself to it?

"Today, we are re-enacting the ritualistic sacrifices that were carried out in this exact temple, 3000 years ago. That is, re-enacting without the killing, of course!"

"We are using a new investigative technique, pioneered by myself and Dr. Greene here, whereby we re-enact the rituals with the hope of gaining new insight into the culture that existed at the time."

It was MY IDEA! I shouted into my gag.

"As would have been the case at the time, the woman to be sacrificed is restrained, stripped, and gagged. The gag, as Dr. Greene just demonstrated, is very effective."

Laughing could be heard from the laptop. The webchat was limited to only 1 pc at a time - those fucking schoolboys were still watching. He turned to me, to explain the next step;

"The next step would have been... oh Sarah, how did you get so dirty? You will need to be cleaned up before we can continue."

He got out his flannel, and without warning, he poured half of the contents of his water bottle over me. I screamed into my gag as the freezing water hit my naked skin, but I could do nothing to stop it. He then set to work hastily wiping me down with his trusty flannel, while Claire and the other boys watched on curiously.

"There, all done, that'll do for now."

He put away the flannel and water bottle. I was still shivering from the cold water, and he hadn't dried me properly. He was rushing to get to the next step, and not to bore his audience...

"The next step would have been to make the woman 'clean', by removing any body-hair, excluding the hair on the head of course. At the time, that would have been done by waxing. For convenience, I will use this razor."

He walked back over, and positioned himself on the opposite side of me to the webcam- so as not to obscure me to his audience.

"Hold still" he whispered. He applied the shaving cream to my bush, and - with me holding still as I could - shaved my crotch completely.

"Luckily Dr. Greene is a well-groomed lady, saving us time in this area."

More giggling. Richards hear it too. He loved to make people laugh. He finished off, and cleaned me off with his flannel.

"Now, onto the next stage!"

As he finished his sentence, he slapped my arse! I squealed and jumped in my restraints, and the boys laughed again. He's humiliating me just to impress some kids he doesn't even know - selfish fuck. When I get out of here, you are done for!

"In this stage, the female sacrifice is covered in fine chalk, and then a pattern is drawn over their body. We believed the pattern to relate to maternity due to the significance of the breasts in the engravings we discovered on this stone, but our recent experiments have shown this may not be true. As you can see, the breasts are exaggerated anyway, due to Dr. Greene's arched posture. Dr. Greene, would you giving us a display of how well-pronounced and 'free' your breasts are in this position?"

I didn't move.

Richards smirked "... or do you want another smack?"

Sigh, OK then. Jiggle. Giggles.

Richards produced a set of 4 small bags from his backpack. He then beckoned over the 4 other members of our group, who hesitatingly came over to the centre of the temple. Dr. Richards handed a bag to each, and then explained what they were to do;

"Now in this step, the whole of Dr. Greene's body - now that it is clean and shaven - will be covered in chalk dust. As you can see from her posture, the arched shape exposes as much of her body as possible at once, making it easier to cover her almost entirely in one go. Only her forearms and feet will not be covered - her head, neck, back, buttocks, legs, breasts, upper arms, and even her, uh, freshly-shaven privates will need to be covered.

"So, my assistants here, if you don't mind covering Dr Greene with chalk... the whole process should not take long, if you all pick a body part each and work from there..."

The four "assistants" were hesitant. Claire, who I considered myself closest to, was the first to begin. She started on my left leg, and worked her way up, and was quickly joined by the other PhD student on my right leg. The two post-grads then started with my arms, and moved down my back, as the PhD students started to cover my thighs and buttocks. The PhD students then neglected to do my cleanly-shaven pussy, instead helping the post-grads cover the sides of my torso, my stomach and shoulders, and my breasts. Claire then came around and leant down near my face, smiling reassuringly at me, and began to cover my neck and face. I tried to smile back, but the gag probably meant she didn't notice. Once she had finished, Dr. Richards called attention to the one remaining non-chalk covered part of me;

"Remember, an accurate reconstruction is very important. We need all of Dr. Greene to be covered in chalk. In fact, the area you have missed out is of great importance in the body painting design. Claire, considring you volunteered for that special role later on, maybe you would like to do it."

Claire did as she was told, and covered my shaven pussy in a layer of fine chalk. She was extra gentle, but the sensation of her bare fingers running over my vagina still made me uncomfortable. After just being hastily shaven, my pussy was feeling raw, and Claire's hands did the best job they could. When she finished, she smiled at me again, and I nodded in response, trying to smile through the gag.

Also, what 'special role' did Claire volunteer for exactly?

"Now, the designs are created by tracing a finger through the chalk that covers Dr. Greene's body. The meanings and origins of these many patterns are too many to go into now, but they have a rich history and meaning within this particular culture.

"By the way, this is personally my first attempt at this pattern on a person, so please forgive me if I make the odd mistake!"

As promised, Dr. Richards started creating the pattern, by carefully tracing one finger over my body. He constantly referred back to his notes, being careful to get it just right. His finger passed over my arms, my stomach, around my legs, and to my feet. Then be began to circle my breasts, with two line ending at my nipples. Then he began the final section - lines leading to my vagina, and around my waist. His final move was to run his finger directly down the centre of my vagina. He lacked Claire's gentleness, and the suddenness of the intrusion made me pull my pussy away - thankfully he decided to finish the pattern at this point, rather than give it another go.

"I will now give you all a closer look at the pattern, and briefly explain some of the shapes that appear"

Dr. Richards picked up the laptop, and carried it over towards me. He started giving close-ups of the many patterns he had drawn on my body - and, by implication, my various body parts. He panned up my right leg, then looked underneath me, to my buttocks and my back. I didn't like this at all. Thousands of people are going to, I imagine, get close-up shots of my private parts, and that I don't want. As he moved the laptop around my torso and towards my breasts, I started to struggle in my bonds. I knew I could not escape, but perhaps I could put him off showing everyone close-ups of my boobs and shaven pussy, or at least shake the chalk enough to ruin the body-painting, and stop him showing it to people. I shook as much as I could, shaking my bottom side to side, and shaking my legs as much as the stone would allow. Dr. Richards stopped immediately, and tried to stop me;

"Dr. Greene, please, remain still, you are making it hard to continue with the ritual."

I screamed at him, and kept on struggling. The chalk started to come loose, and the patterns started to become smudged and unrecognisable.

"Dr. Greene, please, this is ruining the experiment."

That's the idea, dipshit. I kept going. Dr. Richards put the laptop back on the ledge, and then addressed the audience;

"As you can see, just as would have happened 3000 years ago, the woman, though restrained, has become disruptive and uncontrollable. But back then, a simple tool was devised to prevent such outbursts from the woman, and as you can see here, our reconstruction calls for just such a tool today."

What tool, I don't remember any bit about a tool to control the women in the carvings?

But clearly Dr. Richards had re-interpreted one of the drawings while back at the camp. He produced a crude-looking object from his bag - a three-ended chain, each chain just under a foot long, and each had a small clamp attached to each end. In the centre, there was a metal ball, about 5cm in diameter.

"This is a quick mock-up of the kind of device they would have used. I call it the 'compliance device'. I will demonstrate it on Dr. Greene, and as you will see, she will cease her resistance once it has been applied."

Richards instructed the four "assistants" to hold me still. First, my shoulders were held down, and Dr. Richards took one of the arms of the chain, and attached the clamp to my right nipple. It hurt, and I struggled more as he then applied the next arm to my left nipple. He placed the metal ball on my stomach, and the pain in my nipples began to subside slightly.

He then instructed the assistants to hold my hips, and the third clamp, which was smaller than the rest, was carefully applied to the lip of my vagina. This pain was worse, but the assistants stopped me from struggling too much from it.

"Now, these three arms can be shortened, as you can see, so that each arm can be a custom length. I will now shorten each chain, until each one is pulled taught, and the metal ball is resting very gently on Dr. Greene's stomach."

Once his calibrations were complete, the pain at each clamp was now a dull ache. The ball was resting on my stomach, and I now discovered how this cruel device worked. Any movement I made, any at all, caused the metal ball to wobble - that, in turn, would pull on the three taught chains attached to it, inflicting pain in both my nipples, and especially in my vagina. I was forced to keep still - very still - to minimize my suffering from the device. Dr. Richards was pleased.

"As you can see, she is now completely still, and no longer struggling to free herself - a futile task in any case."

Dr. Richards then exacted his revenge on me for his ruined body-painting. He picked up the laptop, and gave all the viewers more close-ups of my private parts - only this time, I could not stop him, or resist. He gave particular attention to the vaginal clamp, and even gave a little tug on it, to demonstrate the way I jumped and cried out from the sudden jolt of pain this caused. Then he gave them a look at my breasts, and to please his audience, gave a series of small prods to each one - this caused them to jiggle the way those bastards liked so much, but caused me more jolts of pain. I struggled to remain still as Dr. Richards played with me in this way, and I struggled to stay composed, and most importantly, still, to avoid any additional pain caused by my response to his antagonism.

He replaced the laptop to it's viewing platform, and then humiliated me just a little more, by smacking me again on the buttocks.

"That's what you get for being a naughty girl, Dr. Greene!"

I heard more giggling, and Dr. Richards returned to centre-frame to address the audience.

"We have, ladies and gentlemen, come to the final part of the ritual. This one is quite intimate, and is performed as a tribute to the maternal deity - or perhaps more accurately, the deity of conception. In this final stage, the woman to be sacrificed is stimulated sexually. She will resist this, because if and when the woman orgasms from this, she is sacrificed. Now in modern times, not all women can achieve an orgasm, so the accuracy of this re-enactment depends on your particular biology more than anything else, Dr. Greene."

He leant down close to me, but still spoke loud enough for everyone to hear;

"Are you able to orgasm, Dr. Greene?"

"Nhhh!" I said 'no' into my gag. If I can't orgasm, then the ritual has to end here. No more.

"Well, this is a disappointment, after so much build up. But unfortunately, ladies and gentlemen, we cannot complete the ritual if the woman to be sacrificed, Dr. Greene, cannot achieve an orgasm."

Finally, it is over.

"SHE CAN ACHIEVE ORGASM, DR. RICHARDS, SHE TOLD US SHE COULD EARLIER!"

It was the loudmouth kid from earlier, shouting from through the laptop. For reasons I could not remember, I had told him I could orgasm. Now, I regretted that.

Dr. Richards turned back to face me.

"Really? Well, then we can complete the ritual!"

He walked over to the four helpers, and picked out Claire for some reason. He then brought her back to the end of the stone, and explained how the ritual ends.

"The ritual is, we think, a sacrifice to the maternal deity. That means that the orgasm must be given to the woman, by another woman - men cannot be involved. Claire, since you are the only other woman here, that task must fall onto you.

Claire? Was this the role she volunteered for? Was she really going to give me an orgasm?

"First though, let's clear off this chalk"

Richards poured the rest of the freezing water from his water bottle over me. I couldn't help but tense up, and the compliance device responded by triggering sharp pains in my nipples and vagina. I started shivering, and that alone caused more pain in my sensitive areas. I shouted into the gag for someone to help, but Dr. Richards got to me first, and merely started to slowly dry me with his tiny flannel. The compliance device was still attached throughout his cleaning too, causing more pain. Only when he was finished, did he remove it - and made it clear that if I fought back again, it would be put back on.

"Now, as you can see from these final carvings here, the manner in which the orgasm is given to the restrained woman is rather specific. In fact, it is the main reason the woman is restrained in this way, with her legs apart and her pelvis forced upwards. The second woman approaches from the bottom of the stone, and with her hands resting on the legs ot the restrained woman, must bring the restrained woman to orgasm orally. In fact, this method of sexual stimulation - which we consider to have only come about in our modern and more liberal society - has a long and wide-reaching history. For example, it features prominently in the later legends of sirens and mermaids."

The final panel? We hadn't figured that out yet, but I thought back to what I could remember. There was a second figure featured in it, stylistically similar to the female sacrifice - and it made sense in terms of the ceremony. Dr. Richards and I, working 'together', had now pretty much figured out the entire ritual, and solved the last remaining puzzles that had eluded us.

"Claire will, for this part of the re-enactment, take the role of the second woman. Claire is a PhD student out here... so remember, to those of you considering archaeology as a career, that you don't need to be an old hat like me to go to far and exotic places. Claire is only 24 in fact!"

He spoke to Claire, quietly, so just she could hear. Claire lightened intently, nodding in response to Dr. Richards words.

"OK, when you're ready, just walk over to her and perform the ritual. Once complete, give a quick bow to the laptop up there, and leave to the left, out of shot."

"Understand?"

She nodded. She didn't say much back, and was almost shy to him. Normally she was a confident sort of girl, but if this made her uncomfortable - as it should - then why did she agree?

I bet she's being coerced. Dr. Richards can make or break her PhD project, with his senior position. A recommendation from him could see her easily into nearly any university she wanted to work at. PhD students can be desperate souls... but I didn't know they were that desperate.

Dr. Richards returned to centre stage.


Part 6

"Now in the final panel that describes this part, the second woman is portrayed very similarly - identically, even - to the female sacrifice. This leads me to believe that she was treated and prepared in much the same way, only without the more time-consuming elements, which are only depicted to the female victim."

Claire took off her boots and socks, neatly storing them by the wall. Then she removed her jacket, and I saw what Dr. Richards had interpreted from the final panel's 'identical' portrayal of, in this case, Claire and myself.

"Claire will perform this task, much like Dr. Greene here, while.... well, you will see for yourselves momentarily."

Claire was off-frame, so the audience would have to wait before they got seconds. Claire took off her top, revealing a sweaty, ill-fitting bra. I admired the extra dedication to dignified clothing she had, which my lack of had caused my breasts to make an earlier-than-expected appearance in the ritual. She removed it to reveal her average-sized, well-formed breasts. They were near-perfect, actually - her youth kept them firm and smooth. I was a bit older, and my boobs had become less firm with my age. My boobs were now able to move more freely - they were, as everyone had seen, more free to bounce, jiggle, be manipulated, and otherwise be less compliant than they had been when I was Claire's age.

Claire removed her shorts and panties, and the male PhD got a cheeky look in as she bend over the second time. Claire stacked all her clothes neatly with her boots. She then used one arm to cover her boobs, and her other arm reached down and covered her crotch. She took a moment to get this right, to make sure she would have these parts obscured from view. Being in the nude must have been part of the deal she made with Dr. Richards - but covering herself seemed to annoy Dr. Richards a little. If she wanted her to expose herself and not cover up, then he should have made that part of the deal too - either that, or restrained her from covering herself up, like how I was.

Dr. Richards, I think, knew that the audience wasn't just here for the science. Claires boobs would boost ratings, but she had them firmly under her arm.

So Dr. Richards, technically minded as he was, came up with a loophole in their deal. He wispered to her as she stood next to me, so that the audience couldn't hear.

"Our deal is, you do this part exactly, Claire."

"I am." she replied "I'm doing it all just as you said, Dr."

"Yes, you are, you are doing exactly what is depicted in the carving here ... but I think I have changed my mind about what is being depicted."

That was how he would get her. He could just say it was in the drawing, and she would have to comply, or lose whatever career-boosting reward Dr. Richards had promised her.

He looked to the final panel, faking the discovery of a new element. The one that would get him what he conveniently wanted - Claire in all her glory, her younger body on display in full, to draw in an even larger audience.

"This second woman, like the first, is also restrained... if I am not mistaken."

Claire looked in indignant silence, as got back up and returned to face her.

"Don't you agree, Claire?"

She nodded in false agreement.

"Just so you can be sure, why don't you bend down and have a closer look?"

Claire, too shy to disagree with his suggestion publicly, bent down to look at the final panel up close as asked. She was still making sure to hide her privates, and kept her arms locked in place on her body. But she was too occupied with keeping her torso and arms in just the right place, and continued to hold her torso in that position as she bend over. To keep her arms exactly where she wanted, she bend only at the hips, with her knees only bending slightly.

Ironically, her preoccupation with protecting her dignity had left her in a more humiliating position than necessary. Her back to the laptop, she presented everyone back home with a wonderful view of her bottom - and a hint of crotch to we their appetite, in all likelihood.

"Claire, since we are agreed, let us begin applying your restraints."

Dr. Richards went to his bag. And as he passed Claire - still bent over - he slapped her bum, like how he had slapped mine.

"Hey!" Her body shot upright, and she turned to face him.

"I'm sorry, Claire, but I just couldn't resist! Your bum was too hard to ignore, and with you bend over like that, you just looked like a naughty schoolgirl, waiting for her punishment."

It had become his trademark for the viewers back home - but also, his way of asserting himself over us. I thought that people with the level of sexism, and of chauvinism, that he had didn't exist any more. But not only did they still exist, they could also still get an audience that liked it.

Apart from her brief outburst, Claire was again too shy too talk. Though as Dr. Richards returned, she was sure to position her bottom out of his reach.

"Over here please, Claire. Your arms are all that appears to be bound. This will still allow you, as you may have realised, to complete the ritual as planned."

Claire came over, and gave a faint squeal as Dr. Richards placed his hands on her hips, and turned her away from the camera.

Then, without saying anything, he grabbed hold of her arms, which were still in place over her privates. He gripped her arms tighter in his hands, silently letting her know that he was not in charge of them. He brought them behind her, and she held the position as Dr. Greene presented a length of rope to the camera.

"I will try to make sure I don't get in the way too much, and you should get a good view of these knots as I tie them. I don't know what particular know they used 3000 years ago, so I will pick one instead. As a research exercise to the students watching, you may want to try and find out which one I am using. The rope itself is made of entirely natural materials, all sourced from the rainforest. Unlike what you may think, it is comparable in strength to modern ropes."

He tied her hands tightly behind her, then produced another length of natural rope. Claire had only a moment to rest her bound hands against her buttocks, before Dr. Richards had begun to carefully wrap her arms just above the elbow. He was rougher this time, and worked against Claire's body to pull her elbows closer together.

"As you have seen with Dr. Greene here, this particular posture, with the elbows closely held behind the back, exaggerates the breasts somewhat. This tie on Claire mirrors the restraints that Dr. Greene is in, which perform the same function."

As he finished his tie, I got the first look at this effect on her. It had the desired effect, and her firm breasts looked a size and a half bigger. She looked down to them, wriggling a little, trying to understand what the audience would see of her. She looked then to my breasts, since I was experiencing the same technique. After a brief examination, she then met my gaze for a moment.

She tried to smile a little, but it never really came.

"There, restraints completed. I'll step aside and give you all a moment to see the full setup."

Claire looked back to her breasts, trying to picture in more detail exactly what the audience would see.

"Claire, if you don't mind, have a go at getting free. This should demonstrate to any remaining doubters watching that the rope is just as strong as rope you would buy an your local hardware store."

She didn't give much of a struggle to begin with - she didn't really want to get loose, but just to this all over and done with. But as she came to realise that Dr. Richards claims about the strength of the rope were accurate, she put in some more effort. In the same way Dr. Richards had observed my body earlier, I observed Claire's naked, sleek body as she strained with more and more force. As much as I would have liked her to prove Dr. Richards wrong and get herself free, that was not looking likely.

"That will do, Claire. You don't want to wear yourself out too much just yet. As you can see, the bonds have not shifted at all, and most importantly for us, her elbow tie has retained it's tightness."

He placed his hands on her hips again, and turned her 90 degrees. A side on view, the best angle to view demonstrate her enhanced assets.

"Now unfortunately, since Claire here kept her breasts hidden with her arms, you won't be able to compare the change in apparent size properly. So you will have to take my word that they are noticeably enhanced than before, both in size, and in presentation. And now that her arms are tied, Claire can no longer hide her body from us - something I think, Claire, was a very unscientific thing to do."

He once again held her hips, turning her 90 degrees again, so she faced the laptop directly. Her pussy, in addition, was now making it's first broadcast appearance. And in a lucky coincidence, it was clean shaven - 'pure' - and just how my pussy had recently been rendered.

"And to be clear to those wondering - no, shaving her privates was not part of the ritual here. Claire, it would appear, takes care of that task herself - even out here, in this remote rainforest. In some of the tribes that live in hot, humid climates like these, keeping body hair cut short is expected of everyone. It serves both as a shared ritual for the tribe to bond over, and has the added benefit of preventing the accumulation of sweat in these areas, something which can become quite uncomfortable."

Claire bent over to look at her crotch, reminding herself of what was on display.

"Claire, I would guess, shaved herself for the latter reason - to make herself more comfortable. Is that right?"

Still looking down her body, she nodded in response.

"Claire, if you don't mind, please stand up straight as you can - it helps us get a better view of your body, and how the body of the ancient women who would do this same task 3000 years ago would have looked to the rest of the onlooking tribe."

He gently patted her on the bum, encouraging her to straighten up.

"To continue, the effect of having a wet crotch also has another effect, which I discovered quite serendipitously while preparing Dr. Greene before we started broadcasting. It can have an effect on the clothing that is worn there; I think it would wear out the material faster, and for some materials, they can become transparent - an embarrassing thing to happen at the wrong moment, I would think!"

Yes, it was embarrassing, but it's not like you gave a damn, was it?

"For example, during the preparations, Dr. Greene accumulated much sweat on her crotch and bush. Having stripped Dr. Greene down to just her pair of little, nylon panties, I noticed that the shape of her bush - a small vertical strip, as you might recall - had become quite visible through the fabric. The effect, I believe, was compounded by the inappropriately small size of her panties. Not only did this make them fit more closely, it also made them slip up her waist. In future, I suggest that Dr. Greene wear more suitably-sized underwear, as that can't have been comfortable either. Especially when you can't re-adjust them back yourself."

Was that part of the talk really necessary?

"I unfortunately ruined those particular panties when I cut them loose, but at least now she has an opening with which to buy a pair which are slightly larger around the waist. I do hope you had others... if not, Claire might lend you hers. You would like them; they are even smaller and would be just as ill-fitting - since Claire isn't using hers, I might let you try them on after this, and give Claire a little more time to become more comfortable with her body, and learn not to cover it up at the expense of scientific progress."

He tapped Claire's bum to get her attention, and beckoned her over to the bottom of the stone. They were now out of sight - my breasts were blocking my view of them.

"Now then, let us complete the final task of this ritual. Claire, if you don't mind, please perform the penultimate act upon Dr. Greene. I expect you to know what to do, after all, you did volunteer for this role."

I still couldn't believe she volunteered, despite knowing what she's have to do. Had she done it before? Or did she just naively think it would be a new, worthwhile experience?

I knew my stance though. I'm not gay, and haven't had anyone do this to me before, of either gender. The fact that I personally knew Claire made it even stranger - the walk back to camp would be a little awkward, to put it lightly.

Regardless to my stance on the act, Claire did not wait long to begin. She climbed onto the stone, and stood between my legs, looking down. She carefully lowered down onto one knee, and then the other, knowing that her hands would not be of use if she fell off. She avoided eye contact, and adjusted her position a little. And then, after her eyes quickly made contact with mine, she lowered her head down, behind my breasts, and out of view.

I felt her touch me, her warm lips making the most intimate of interactions with me. It felt like a kiss, and she slowly followed it with more, moving around my pussy and trying each area. At some, I couldn't help but jump slightly as she made contact. The feeling was still so strange, and so intimate, that to begin with at least, I couldn't help but jump.

She wasn't just warming me up though - she was exploring, testing for where I was the most sensitive, where to go next... skills that she, as an archaeologist, would have been familiar with.

While this was my first time having this done to me, I was certain that it was not Claire's first time giving it. I was thankful that she was starting slow, and she allowed me to become accustomed to her mouth before slowly beginning to kiss and rub with a little more force. She licked her lips, and then began to rub and suck some more as she circled my more sensitive spots. She was working up to them, moistening the surrounding area with a little of her saliva, and making sure I was ready before she moved on to the next area.

When I felt ready, she felt it too, as she could feel the muscles in my pelvis relax, and no longer tense up to her touch. She moved to the centre, and this is when the sexual stimulation properly began. She build up faster than before, rubbing and sucking in just the right way. Then her tongue, wet and slippery, joined in, diving into me and complimenting the continued stimulation from her lips. I could feel it building, and at this point I stopped being passive, and tried to work my pelvis with her. I tried to tell her where to go, where I wanted it, and she picked up on it as I'd hoped. It was only my first time, but I could tell she was good. I felt the orgasm building faster, and strained and struggled as much as my body could handle, trying to bring it closer and closer, and anticipating it more and more. I forgot what I looked like, and Claire must have too. We were in our own little world, and with one last push from my exhausted body, I orgasmed.

It was amazing. I groaned loud into the gag, and tensed and pushed more at Claire's wonderful mouth as the pleasure rolled over me, wanting to savour it with just a little more of her talented mouth. She gently pressed her lips against me, and let me thrust as I wanted for those last few seconds. Finally, I just collapsed, or whatever the equivalent would be in these restraints. I was done.

But before seeing Claire's head rise back up, I felt one last kiss. That area was sensitive now, but Claire's kiss was so gentle, almost feather-like, that I didn't mind it at all. My head fell back, and I saw Claire's head rise above me again.

Oh no, her mouth - some of my 'juices' were dripping from her lips, and she couldn't clean them as she was still tied up. She began to get off her knees and to her feet, but Dr. Richards stopped her.

"Oh no no, Claire, let me help you down."

He grabbed her body, somewhere, and assisted her as she shuffled backwards on her knees, and down onto the floor. He then walked out in front of me, with one arm firmly around Claire's waist - she followed, and stood by him as he faced the audience for the final time.

"3000 years ago, Dr. Greene would now have been sacrificed, by the chief of the tribe, shortly after achieving her orgasm. So with the final stage of the ritual complete, our re-enactment must finally come to an end."

Dr. Richards climbed onto the stone, bent down to remove my gag, and then - after hours of waiting - helped my exhausted body out of the trap. He lifted my shoulders, and I pulled my arms free. Dr. Richards stepped back off the stone as I freed my legs. I was still naked, save for the boots, but before I could cover my boobs, Dr. Richards grabbed my hand, and pulled me up off the stone, and onto my feet.

Claire had turned away from the audience, so he turned her around, and then held us both beside him, his arms around our waists. Claire still had her hands and elbows bound behind her, still unable to clean her lips of the remaining traces of cum. I was free, but exhausted. The posture had taken it's toll, and I could do nothing except stand with Dr. Richards as he gave his farewell.

"Thank you everyone, for taking such an interest in our work. Special thanks of course to Sarah and Claire, for being part of this difficult experiment. I hope you will consider a career in archaeology, and perhaps join us at some point in the future."

His hand ran up my back, and then he bowed, indicating for us to do the same. As we rose, the male PhD student discretely turned off the webcast.


Part 7



"Oh boy, what a success that was! I wonder how many people were watching by the end there?"

I didn't know. I didn't want to know.

"But you know, ladies, there is always room for improvement. Claire - you should not have covered up like that, we need to see you objectively, and unrestricted."

Claire was still silent, words escaping her. I moved over to her to clean her lips for her, but had nothing on me - literally - to do it with. Instead, I used my mouth, running it over her closed mouth a few times. It looked clean, but Claire would probably need some mouthwash at some point.

"Sarah, you could have done better too, but I think you know where you went wrong. I punished you accordingly, and I think that was fair."

"ok...." I was barely audible, and staggered back to my things to get dressed. But I had nothing to put back on. My shorts, my T-shirt, even my panties - they were destroyed. My jacket was here, but that was it.

"Sarah!" Dr. Richards saw me as I stared at my ruined clothes. "Here, put these on instead - they'll be a bit tight on you, but at least it's something for the hike back to camp."

He handed me the neat stack of clothes - Claire's clothes. Did that mean Claire had brought a spare set of clothes with her to wear instead?

"Claire won't need these, as she still needs to be fairy reprimanded for interfering with the experiment in the way that she did."

I looked over to her. While I was turned, Dr. Richards had got out more of his natural rope - and wrapped it into a crude gag. Claire looked to the rest of us, confused.

"I punished Sarah for her actions, so it is only fair that you are also punished. You're problem is that you are too concerned with how you look, that is why you covered yourself up. So your punishment for this will also hopefully make you feel more comfortable with your body, so you wont feel the need to do such an action again."

We were all looking over to Dr. Richards and Claire, the still-bound naked PhD student, waiting to hear how he would punish her.

"I will help you put on your socks and hiking boots, but that's it. Sarah get's your clothes, but you will hike back naked."

"WHTTT??" Claire piped up, her eyes widening.

"I know it sounds harsh, but you need to understand, what you did was serious. And when we get back to camp, if you're still not fine with being naked, I'll keep you tied up and naked at the camp until you are. Understand?"

"NHH!!" Claire did not like her punishment, and looked around to us to help. But none of us would dare disagree with Dr. Richards, especially when he's mad at someone.

"No no no, it's the only way you'll learn." He tied one end of a length of natural rope to the front of her gag - tying it on where her mouth was. He then tightened the rope around her head some more, the knot becoming a more effective gag.

"I'll lead you back so you don't get lost, or try anything silly on the way."

I started to dress myself. First, the panties. Wow, these are small, they barely fit, but will do. Next, the shorts - I brought them up to my waist, and barely managed to button it shut. Her shirt now - no, this won't even come close to fitting me. I'll just wear the jacket over the top - it does the job, so I won't complain.

I looked back to Claire. Her boots were on, and Dr. Richards was covering her body in bug-repellent. She was going to have a tough time on the hike back - the foliage was pretty thick in places, and the insects would get everywhere.

The sun was just starting to rise, the sun just below the horizon. We were all packed up and ready to get back to camp. We waited for our team leader.

"I'll lead the way, just follow me. We won't go straight back to the camp though, we are going to head to a little nearby village first. It shouldn't take long to get there, only about an hour or so"

Claire scuffed and grunted, dragged in tow as Dr. Richards lead her out of the temple and into the impending daylight. Her naked body shivered at the sudden wind, and her arms strained at her bonds vainly.

"Claire, you'll just have to come with us. You need to be COMFORTABLE like this, that's the reason I'm doing this. You should look forwards to this too - I'm sure the villagers will find you very interesting. Not many westerners have visited them out here, and they're very friendly. The women here are often topless too, so don't worry, you won't be the only one - though you will be the only one naked. This will be the first time they've seen a western girl naked, too, so I'm sure they will be very curious, and want to get a good look at you."

Oh Claire, you poor girl...

"I plan to spend a bit of time chatting to the head of the village while I'm there. He speaks a little English, enough for me to communicate. His local knowledge is valuable, and after today, there's alot I would like to discuss with him."

OK, that sounds fun, meeting some locals. Not for Claire though...

"So Claire, while I meet with him - which might take a few hours - I will tie your leash to the village well, so you don't do anything silly like run off on your own. There's a little pond there too, which you might be able to use to clean yourself up a bit. You're going to get pretty dirty getting there, believe me. Maybe the villagers will help you get clean, once they've had a good look at you. It's right in the middle of the village, and is where they tend to socialise, so don't worry, you'll have lots of company.

"The rest of you will come with me, and be there while I talk with the head. These villagers don't take money, but are very grateful for all the curiosities I show them. Claire, I'll tell the villagers that you are there for their curiosity, and that they can investigate and play with you however they want. I'll get much attention and information in return, I'm sure of it. They will find you fascinating. Actually, I think I might let them untie your leash leash from the well, and take you for a walk around the place. Or maybe I'll even let them tie you up some more, and have some fun putting you into different positions, and seeing how your body responds."

"I have to warn you though, they're very touchy-feely, and their culture values physical contact highly. They'll want to touch and feel you, feel your skin and your features, play with your, ahem, assets, and of course, see how you'll respond to all this. They'll probably have some fun tickling you for a bit, they'll find it hilarious that you can't cover up or protect yourself."

Claire, that poor girl... she would be left to the tribe as a curiosity item, while Dr. Richards spend a few hours with head of the village.

"I'll let you loose when we get back to the camp... but that's only if you behave, and be a good girl. Otherwise, I'll keep you naked until I decide otherwise."

He passed the dehumanised Claire, ready to lead her to the village. And just for his own amusement, slapped her once more on the bum. Claire was obedient, defeated, and followed Dr. Richards into the jungle. I followed Claire, shamelessly watching her bum as we trekked to the village. Oh, what a fun day this would be.