Chac Mool – Part 1

The four figures forced their way through the dense undergrowth on the rainforest floor. Their machetes were drawn, the light from their dim torches glinting off the steel blades as they hacked through the thickest vegetation.

The air was still hot, but cooler than the daytime when the heat and humidity would sap the strength from your body like an enveloping parasitic creature. Dawn was about two hours away and they needed to reach the city before then.

~~~

An hour later the forest suddenly stopped. A huge open clearing half a mile square opened before them, and at its centre a grey stone pyramid, illuminated by a full moon.

William looked at Jane, “Alright, now I believe you.”

Jane smiled, allowing herself the satisfaction of proving the arrogant bastard wrong, and that when they got back to Mexico City he owed her a good bottle of Chablis. She couldn’t blame him for doubting her research, an ancient pyramid, still tended by the descendants of its builders. Ten centuries and they still held back the forest. That was a devotion to their ancient gods that the conquistadors hadn’t destroyed. No amount of imperial vandalism could crush such deeply held beliefs.

William, Jane and the two porters walked across the flat “arena” and climbed the steps of the pyramid. The porters were nervous, but paid enough to put their superstitions to one side. For now. They muttered under their breath in Spanish and clutched at their rosaries.

At the top of the pyramid was a platform, on which stood a low stone structure with one gaping maw of a door. They made their way carefully inside the pyramid’s holiest of holies.

~~~

William leaned over the pit in the centre of the pyramid and let a fist sized piece of masonry fall into the darkness. After several seconds it hit a solid floor below.

“That’s well below ground level. Do we have enough rope?” asked Jane.

“If we don’t we’ll find out rather abruptly” smiled William.

The ropes were fixed ignominiously around the snouts of two of the stone dragon-like creatures that “guarded” the edge of the pit.

They began their descent.

Things went well until, about one hundred and twenty feet down, the walls suddenly swept away into the darkness, the shaft transforming into a cavernous dark chamber. Jane began to spin, William, in a similar predicament managed to swing himself across and scissor her between his legs. He looked down at her, his crotch level with her face, her arms hooked over his legs. A surreal scene vignetted by the bubble of light created by his helmet’s lamp.

Jane noticed a stirring in his trousers, the bastard was actually turned on by this. Suspended above god knew what and with the imminent possibility of crashing to their deaths he was becoming aroused.

“Bill, what are you dohmmhf?”, he grabbed her head and forced it into his crutch, reached into her rucksack and pulled out a flare then released her head. Her red, indignant face suddenly became even redder as he struck the flare. Bill let it fall.

It hit the ground only ten feet below them. They lowered themselves to the stone floor and disentangled themselves from the ropes and each other.

Before Jane could berate him for his behaviour he struck another flare from his own pack and headed off down the passage that seemed to be the only exit from the chamber. As she began to trot after him she became aware of the dampness between her legs and the warm glow in her cheeks.

~~~~

The passage was cut through solid rock for one hundred yards, dead east. It opened out into a simple room about four yards square with a small, low alter at its centre.

Bill was already bent low over the altar when Jane entered. His trousers were stretched over an athlete’s buttocks, she felt herself wanting to slip her hand … pull yourself together girl.

“It’s papyrus”, said Bill

“It can’t be. It’s must be tree bark …”

But it was. Each of the four scrolls on the altar was papyrus with hieroglyphics an ideoglyphs written side by side.

“Shall I say it or do you want to?” asked Bill.

“It’s our Rosetta Stone”, grinned Jane.

“What does it say?”

“Chac Mool rises in the east where the great river flows through the desolate sands.” began Jane.

The flare was about to give out, Bill reached for another but Jane stopped him. “Look!”

Through a shaft in the roof a golden light was streaming. “There must be a reflector up there catching the rising sun.” Bill was impressed. He stepped into the pool of light which was growing in intensity.

“Chac Mool brings strength to his people and the power of the jaguar to the receiver of the first light”. Jane stopped, “This is amazing! Are you OK?”

Bill was bathed in golden light, eyes closed. When they snapped open, they were not his eyes, but those of a cat, a big cat. Jane felt drawn to him. The scroll fell from her hands and rolled to the side of the room.

His hands grabbed her shoulders and threw her onto the altar, sending the papyrus scrolls rolling into the darkness. Bill tore at his shirt, discarding it and revealing a muscular chest and rippling six-pack. The muscles in his arms looked like taught steel cables toiling under his skin.

Jane kicked off her boots and pushed her trousers over her hips. Bill pulled them over her feet, leaving them in crumpled heap on the floor. His own trousers held at bay a restless beast.

Jane watched Bill unfasten his fly buttons. She licked her lips, the bulge between his legs seemed to grow with their every heartbeat. Their heart’s pounded together, like a drum, blood rushing through their ears.

His cock sprang forth, thick, throbbing and potent. The rough stone of the altar scratching her back through the cotton of her blouse. Jane raised her heels to her buttocks and offered her glistening sex to Chac Mool.

He pounced on her, biting at her neck. His canines seemed unnaturally long, his smell musky and his movements fluid and feline. Jane ran her fingers along his back and sides, her nails digging into his flesh. Each thrust of his phallus aroused her more, her clawing hands becoming more frenzied, more vicious.

Suddenly his hand held her throat. The throbbing member inside her was withdrawn, Jane squealed with disappointment. Strong hands turned her over, the smile returned to her lips as, on all-fours, she felt the hard cock part her labia again. She was filled, stretched and then the pounding began again, merciless, blissful, bitter-sweet ecstasy.

His hands gripped her shoulders, his claws digging in to her flesh. Blood ran from the wounds on his sides, the stinging caused by the rivers of sweat running into his wounds making him growl and spit from deep in his throat.

Jane came in wave after wave of red-hot glowing orgasms. Had she not been held by his hands and skewered on his magnificent cock she would have slumped onto the cool stone of the altar. But he was not sated, her mind became a blur, reality merged into a whirlwind of sensation and colours. Red and black danced across her mind. Orange and white cavorted and danced, finally as she heard his triumphal orgasmic roar the maelstrom resolved itself into the sandy-yellow and black of a jaguar’s coat.

A rough tongue licked her from the small of her back to the nape of her neck.