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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2008.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  All rights reserved. Thank you for your 
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African Drums
By Dark Dreamer (address withheld)

***

This is the story of a spoiled teenage coed who is 
forced to accompany her parents on an African safari. 
She becomes separated and is kidnapped and abused by 
jungle savages and other nasty sorts. There is no real 
violence... aside from the rapes, non-consensual sex 
and bondage, that is. Our heroine does come out 
essentially unharmed in the end. (MF+/F, nc, rp, bi, 
dom, mc, size, intr)

***

Archivist note: The original story was written in 1999, 
then revised in 2000 and now it has been updated to the 
complete version. Enjoy a great read. Well done Dark 
Dreamer.

***

Kristen had whined the entire week before they left. 
She had whined and sulked during the plane flight, and 
was now whining, sulking, pouting, and occasionally 
snarling. Going on an African safari, far from chili 
dogs, pizza, MTV, and her friends, was not her idea of 
a holiday.

For once, though, her parents had held firm. They 
intended that this would be a good old fashioned family 
holiday, and were determined to enjoy it if it killed 
them, and her. No amount of whining, cajoling and 
begging had managed to sway them.

Thus she was now standing on the runway in a baking 
heat, watching her father wave forlornly at baggage 
handlers who zipped by as if he were invisible. It was 
little wonder, what with the enormous amount of luggage 
sitting beside him.

Kristen herself was very far from invisible to the 
baggage handlers, as well as all the other bemused, 
astonished and wondering Africans within sight. If she 
noticed the stares, she gave not sign. She was, after 
all, used to be stared at, though not in quite the same 
way.

She was, as she well knew, a lovely, even stunning 
young woman. Her development had started early. Even 
when she was eleven years old, her physical maturity 
was such that she was taken for a girl several years 
older. She'd learned quickly that the men who looked at 
her so closely could be manipulated in a variety of 
ways to her benefit.

At eleven, that merely meant cooing and blinking her 
eyes. By twelve she was wearing tight or revealing 
clothes and positioning her body in such a way that 
older boys and even grown men would groan and flash 
carnal visual images in their minds.

By the time she'd turned thirteen, she was an expert at 
manipulation, at controlling and maneuvering men, using 
their weakness for her nubile teenage body to make soft 
jelly of their hearts and minds, and hard steel of 
their prongs.

She'd lost her cherry before entering high school, to a 
handsome teacher who'd responded by changing her F to 
an A. Usually she didn't have to actually sleep with 
them of course. A little cooing and sultry whispers, 
combined with a kiss or two sometimes did it.

For more difficult cases, she'd casually rub herself 
against them, or let them cop a feel of her boobs, or 
crotch, and sometimes even jerked them off.

She'd gotten great grades in High School without having 
a particularly nimble mind, or studying hard. Others 
wondered about that, but as a leader of her peer group 
in school, few openly questioned her methods for 
academic achievement.

It was the same in college. She'd started just this 
year, and had found the college professors even more 
willing to come under her sway. The high school 
teachers had the added worry, first of arrest, and even 
after she passed the age of consent, of firing, if 
caught with her.

College teachers didn't really have to worry about 
that. Affairs between students and teachers weren't 
unusual. They could freely make use of what she offered 
in exchange for good grades, and not worry about 
consequences.

Now, as she stood on the runway, clad in her tight 
short shorts and her purple tank top that was cut off 
just below the breasts, she was the near perfection of 
a sexual creature. She didn't even have to try and pose 
anymore. Any position she took could automatically 
bring males organs to erection.

Her body was that of a goddess, perfect in its Ivory 
Whiteness, gleaming with health. There was not a 
pimple, mole, or freckle anywhere on it. She was tall 
and effortlessly graceful, her movements that of a 
ballet dancer.

Her breasts were large enough to cause double takes, 
but not large enough to detract from the perfect 
symmetry of her shape. They were high and perfectly 
round and of a firmness few young women ever achieved, 
even during arousal. Her nipples were tiny pink nubs in 
the exact center of each breast, which, when hard, 
lengthened to an almost unnatural length, standing out 
hard and ultra sensitive.

Her legs were the kind that made men run into poles, so 
transfixed were they by the long gleaming contours of 
her perfect thighs, shapely calves and sweet and lovely 
knees.

Her ass would have won awards if such were given, and 
if she had ever deigned to enter any contest. It was 
the perfection other women longed for, had operations 
for. Not an ounce of fat, not a hint of imperfection 
marred her sweet and sumptuous buttocks. They were more 
perfect in their shape when she slouched in her 
sneakers than most women achieved in six inch heels and 
tightly shaping pants and jeans.

Her face was the profile of delicate loveliness. Her 
eyes were wide and bright, bright blue. When she 
wanted, they were the eyes of an appealing child. 
Within an instant they could turn sultry and wanton.

Her nose was a mere button, a little snub thing that 
made the women sigh and smile. Her mouth was narrow and 
luscious, her lips full and sensuous, her teeth, 
brilliant white perfection. Taken as a whole, her face 
was enough to make grown men and women weep, the men 
with regret, that they would never know her intimate 
acquaintance, the women with amazed jealousy.

Her hair was the perfect frame for such a wondrously 
sculpted visage. It was chest long and as feathery soft 
and fleecy as the finest silk. At the same time, it was 
luxuriously thick, cascading around her head and 
splashing over her shoulders and down her chest and 
back like a lustrous waterfall halted in mid-fall.

All of these taken together drew lustful and envious 
stares and gasps wherever she went, and contributed to 
what was, admittedly, more than a hint of arrogance, 
haughtiness and vanity. Being rich always tended to 
draw people into immodesty. Being rich as well as 
stunningly, dazzlingly, ravishingly, gorgeous, gave her 
an ego hard to reign in, even on those odd occasions 
when she tried.

Of course, her luscious silhouette and mouth watering 
face were not the only reason she was drawing stares at 
the moment. The main point of attraction for the 
Africans was her hair, which was a bright, but not 
unattractive shade of pink.

If she had been aware of the amusement, or confusion 
her hair color was causing, she would have simply 
sniffed about the crudeness and lack of sophistication 
of the watchers, utterly certain that wherever in the 
world she happened to be, whatever she happened to be 
wearing was THE height of fashion, and that included 
hair coloring and style.

She was not aware of the bewildering looks though, 
since all her attention was focused on herself, and the 
unhappiness and uncomfortableness she was presently 
feeling. These were not things Kristen was normally 
forced to contend with.

Seldom in her short life had she been refused any 
pleasure, comfort or want, however fleeting or 
transitory. Everywhere she went she was granted boons 
favors and generosity. At home, her slightest wish was 
her parent's most important demand. Nothing was denied 
her.

Of course this went a long way to explaining her self 
indulgent nature, her selfishness and vain outlook on 
life. Kristen was about as spoiled as any human being 
that walked the face of the earth, and as shallow as a 
dried river bed.

Though she was far from stupid, an original thought had 
never crossed her pretty little mind. She followed the 
dictates of her social group to the letter, her every 
move governed by whatever happened to be "IN."

Now here she was sweating, SWEATING! In a sauna that 
was permissible, but out in the open, in her clothes, 
it was utterly intolerable.

"Dadddeeeeeeeeee," she whined. "Can't we go indoors 
where it's air-conditioned?"

"The building isn't air-conditioned sweetheart. It's 
hotter than out here," he replied.

"Not air-conditioned?" She was truly amazed. In her 
experience all buildings were air-conditioned. What 
kind of a place was this?

"Ahhh, here comes our driver I think," her father 
sighed with relief.

Kristen turned to see a boxy looking car racing towards 
them in a cloud of dust. She squinted her eyes against 
the sun, then put her hand over her mouth as the thing 
drew up in front of them, hurling small pebbles and 
dirt all around.

"You Charles Taylor?" a voice demanded.

"I am."

"Righto."

A figure jumped out of the box and moved around to 
stand in front of them. Kristen looked up in disgust. 
The man was in his early thirties, tall, with coarse 
dark hair and weathery tanned skin, he wore a cheap 
brown short sleeved shirt and dark green pants tucked 
into boots, not even designer boots.

He was sort of handsome, in a rugged, cowboy type way, 
with a thick, barrel chest and enormous, biceps. His 
hands were big and rough from work, and his chest hair 
curled out through the half open shirt. Kristen 
wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"Pleased ta meet yah." The man said, holding out his 
big hand at Taylor. "I'm Joe Steel."

"How do you do?" Charles said, shaking hands.

"This is my wife Lucy..."

"Charmed." Lucy said, waving her hand back and forth in 
front of her face to stir a little breeze.

"And my daughter Kristen."

"Hi there Kris." he grinned, his eyes sliding quickly 
and appreciatively up and down her body.

"Kristen." she said, stiffly, glaring in reproach.

It didn't do to let the help become to chummy to begin 
with, and nobody dared call her Kris.

With no further delay Joe had begun hefting their bags 
one and two at a time, and tossing them into the rear 
of the "Rover" as he called it. He showed not even a 
hint of effort at the heavy bags and was quickly done, 
whereupon he jumped into the driver's seat to await 
them.

Charles held open the rear door and Lucy and Kristen 
carefully stepped in.

"Don't you have air-conditioning?" she complained.

"You're joking?" He laughed. "Air-conditioning! What a 
laugh!" He then proceeded to laugh, long and hard, 
before stomping on the gas pedal. The three passengers 
were thrown back against the weakly padded seats as the 
Rover bumped and bounced across the dirt field and out 
through the airport gate.

In a short length of time, they were driving through an 
incredibly dirty and tacky looking excuse for a city, 
with hordes of Black people wandering around aimlessly 
and shrieking in some ugly foreign language that 
Kristen knew wasn't French or Italian, the only two 
acceptable languages other than English.

"How far is the hotel?" She grumbled.

"Hotel? We ain't goin' to no hotel, gorgeous. We're 
heading right for the jungle. We'll pick up the rest of 
the gear in Bankoland, then head inland."

"You mean we'll be traveling in this?!" she demanded in 
astonishment.

"That's it beautiful."

"But... but... but... we CAN'T travel in this!" she 
exclaimed.

He looked back at her in irritation. "And just what's 
wrong with this? This is a helluva fine machine, girl. 
It'll take you through damn near anything without 
stalling."

"How long do we have to be riding around in this 
thing?" She demanded.

"This is your ride for the duration, Princess." he 
grinned.

"Daddeeeeeeee!"

"Now look, precious, we could hardly travel in a Rolls 
in the middle of the jungle," he tried to placate her.

"Couldn't you get something that was at least air-
conditioned!?"

"You'll never get acclimatized with air-conditioning 
pinky." Joe grinned.

"What?"

"He means you won't get used to the heat, darling."

"I don't want to get used to the heat!" she stamped her 
foot on the floor.

"You ain't got no choice there, pinky."

"Don't call me that!" she demanded, furiously.

He laughed, which did nothing to cool her temper. She 
folded her arms tightly, despite the heat, and sank 
back in her corner of the seat, determined to sulk 
until she was back home again. The Rover continued to 
bounce along until they reached a small village outside 
town.

There they stopped. There was six other four wheel 
drive vehicles there waiting. Joe looked at them in 
disbelief. "What in hell?" He jumped out and went to 
the waiting native drivers, chatting furiously.

"You told me to find everything on the list and bring 
it here with drivers." The man in charge said, 
shrugging.

"What in hell was on the friggin list?!" Joe demanded. 
He poked his nose inside the rovers and jeeps, his face 
growing more and more incredulous.

Finally he came over to stand in front of Charles.

"Are you nuts?" he demanded.

"Excuse me?"

"What in hell is all this junk? You got furniture here, 
fer chrissake!"

"Yes, a few tables and chairs, and cots."

"Tables and chairs!"

"I suppose you've never sat in a chair or at a table." 
Kristen sniffed, disdainfully. Joe glared at her, then 
turned back to Taylor. "You have any idea what this is 
costing you?"

"Of course I know." Charles said with dignity.

"How about how long it's gonna take us to pack up and 
set down?"

"I'm sure they'll manage."

Joe closed his eyes and counted to ten.

"It's your funeral," he said before finally, stomping 
over to the other drivers.

"Really." Lucy said. "Couldn't you have found a better 
guide, Charles?"

"He is supposed to be the best, my dear."

"He smells badly." Kristen sulked.

"I dare say we'll all smell badly soon." Her father 
said, altogether too happily. Both women looked at him 
in disgust.

They bounced down dirt roads for several more hours, 
with the other cars riding along behind. They left the 
road then, going through the jungle on even more bouncy 
trails. Just when she was certain she couldn't take 
another minute, they stopped in a small clearing by a 
river.

"All right. We're here." Joe said in obvious relief. He 
almost dove out of the rover, moving as far away from 
Kristen as he could get. Never had he had to bear such 
a constant unending barrage of whining complaints, and 
snotty comments.

If she had known the fantasies he'd used to try and 
block her out for most of the afternoon, Kristen would 
have been outraged. In truth, they weren't all that 
different from most men's fantasies about her, except 
for being considerably more violent.

The dozen natives proceeded to set up the camp, which 
included two large tents, each ten feet by twelve feet 
and tall enough for a tall man to stand. Inside each 
they carried a large round plastic bathtub, which they 
set up in a curtained corner, along with the portable 
toilets.

They attached round curtain rods to the tubs, then put 
on the curtains. A pipe with a shower nozzle on the top 
was put into place, and a generator to power the pumps, 
along with other gear, was started up. One large 
vehicle was entirely filled with big drums of water, 
which were rolled over and attached to the pumps.

Joe sat on the front bumper of his Rover and watched in 
stunned amazement as the tubs, along with tables, 
chairs, benches and cots were all unloaded and brought 
into the tents. Each time Kristen saw him, she turned 
up her nose and sniffed in disdain. Joe imagined what a 
good sturdy leather belt would do to her round little 
behind.

The Taylors wandered around, enjoying the scenery, what 
there was of it no further than a dozen yards from the 
camp at least. Kristen accompanied her parents, 
shrugging and sniffing at everything they pointed out.

He's got a big campfire going, for the atmosphere, 
Charles had said, since of course they'd brought 
portable propane stoves and lanterns for heat and 
light. The fire drew the only appreciative statement 
from Kristen Joe had heard all day. She'd allowed that 
it was "OK."

Soon after things were installed, the Taylors all 
retired to their tents and the pumps started up. Joe's 
mind filled with the image of the pink haired girl 
having a shower and despite his irritation at her, 
found his loins stirring.

Normally he wouldn't have dreamed of it, but the little 
bitch had been such a snotty little thing that he 
almost felt she owed him one, a look that is.

With nobody in sight, he unzipped the tent and poked 
his head inside, then walked in, poking his head out to 
be sure nobody had seen him. He moved across the room 
to the little curtained alcove, then looked inside.

The curtain that ran around the tub was in place and 
water pattered off it weakly. The pumps were only as 
good as the power source which had to be small enough 
to cart around. Still, a good spray of water enveloped 
the girl as she stood under it.

The plastic curtain was solid, and only her shadow 
showed through. Not a man to hesitate, Joe wandered 
across the few feet that separated it from him and 
pulled it aside slightly.

Her back was to him, and what a back! Despite his many 
experiences with women he had to swallow a sigh of 
appreciation. He shook his head as his eyes beheld her 
beautifully proportioned body, the lovely round swells 
of her buttocks and magnificent legs.

She turned and he let the curtains fall. Then opened 
them a crack. Her head was tilted back and her hands 
were rubbing shampoo through her long hair. He closed 
his eyes for a second, then opened them again. No, he 
hadn't been imagining.

"Good Christ!" he murmured, his voice easily covered by 
the sound of splashing water. What a body! His eyes 
lingered over her upturned breasts, looking even more 
golden and perfect as she unconsciously thrust her 
chest up and out.

Her belly was smooth and flat and looked like the 
softest thing on earth. Her damp pubic hair, she was a 
blonde, he saw, barely covered her dark little slit as 
she stood with legs slightly apart.

The water trickled off her gleaming wet skin, giving 
her a slick, oily look that set his heart pounding and 
his cock pulsing. It was all he could do to keep from 
jumping in and screwing her right then and there.

Luckily, he was a strong man mentally as well as 
physically. He backed away and stumbled out of the tent 
his eyes wide and dazed. No matter her personality 
flaws, he was going to have the little bitch if it was 
the last thing he did!

He set out to please her as soon as she returned from 
her shower. His attempts to curry favor and amuse her 
failed dismally however. She was used to men trying to 
charm and please her and was in no mood for it. 
Besides, he was as far from her type as it was possible 
to get without actually being ugly.

His smile became strained over the course of the 
evening, as his most gallant, courteous and congenial 
attempts to strike up friendship, or even a 
conversation, failed dismally, shot down by snotty 
remarks, arrogant condescension and rude and brusque 
dismissals.

He was in a foul mood when he went to sleep that night. 
It didn't get any better the next day, as she repeated 
her whining and complaining to such an extent he was 
reduced to angry growls and snarls himself. When she 
haughtily summoned him to her tent that evening, he was 
in no mood to be pleasant.

Her constant sniveling had driven him to tear into his 
stash of brandy far sooner than normal, and he was 
ready to bite somebody's head off. None would be better 
than hers.

Kristen was wearing a light white designer shirt, that, 
because of the heat, she'd completely unbuttoned and 
then tied together below her braless breasts.

That her magnificent orbs were thus encased in two 
tight sacks that became translucent as she sweated, did 
not apparently occur to her, and if it had, she 
wouldn't have cared. Tormenting men, even ones she 
disliked was commonplace to her.

Her shorts were the kind of baggy, multi colored things 
currently in vogue in California, and looked 
preposterous here, but again, that didn't occur to her.

"What is it?" He almost snarled after pushing through 
her tent flap.

"This thing doesn't work," she complained, pointing at 
the shower.

"So what do you want me to do about it?" She looked at 
him like he was exceedingly stupid.

"Fix it," she said, pronouncing each word carefully as 
she stared at him.

"It ain't my shower," he glared.

"You were hired by my father..."

"To guide you through the jungle. You want a plumber go 
and find one."

"How dare you!?" she glared in outrage.

"Oh stuff a sock in it," he snapped.

"When I tell my Daddy..."

"You can tell Daddy whatever the bleeding hell you want 
you silly little cunt. I'm tired of listening to your 
whining and bitching and complaining!" He moved right 
in front of her, staring down angrily from inches away. 
She backed up in consternation, but he kept moving 
forward until she was backed against a table.

He jammed his face right up against hers. "Your shit 
don't stink! Do it?"

Kristen's eyes and mouth opened in amazement. Nobody, 
but nobody had ever talked to her like this before.

"I-I..."

"Oh can it! I'm sick of listening to your whining 
voice!" He shoved his face even closer, forcing her to 
bend backwards across the table.

"You are the snottiest little ice maiden I've ever seen 
in my life! You and your goddamn bathtubs and goddamn 
CD player and your goddamn pink hair! What kind of a 
crazy wears pink hair anyway!?

"I-it's the latest s-style," she stuttered.

"Style! Ha!" He backed up slightly, his eyes glaring as 
he looked her up and down. "And your clothes. You wave 
your little ass around and show off your fat tits and 
then look down your nose at anyone that takes notice!"

He poked his nose in her face again, forcing her back. 
"What you really need is a hard belt across your dainty 
little rear end! Or better yet a good hard cock up your 
tight, cold little hole!"

Kristen gasped in shock, her skin flushing red in 
embarrassment and outrage.

"I bet for all your showin' off your still a stinking 
virgin!" he snarled.

"I-I... am not!" she whined.

"Bullshit! I can't imagine you letting any man between 
those legs of yours!" He reached his hand down and 
cupped her left breast through the sweaty blouse. "The 
only one that's ever touched these are you!" He 
sneered, again putting his face right up against hers.

Kristen was now terrified. She was in a situation she'd 
never faced in her life. Someone didn't like her! 
Someone was being mean to her, yelling at her and 
calling her names. She didn't know how to deal with it 
and gaped at him in shock, not even trying to slap his 
hand away from her hot, sweaty breast.

"What about it, little Miss Ice Queen?" he smirked.

"Or are you a lesbo? That wouldn't surprise me. A man 
hating little homo!"

"A... am not!" she whimpered.

"Yeah?" He curled his lip into a sneer, then abruptly, 
jammed his big hand down the front of her shorts. The 
button tore off, popping across the tent as his hand 
forced into the thin garment. Kristen gasped again, her 
eyes staring down in shock.

Joe's hand slid right under her panties and cupped her 
bare flesh, squeezing up against her pussy mound. His 
eyes continued to stare into hers and as she looked up, 
she felt held there, her own eyes unable to pull away 
as his fingers began to rub up and down over her cunt.


Chapter 2
---------

Her breathing came faster and faster and her body 
experienced a different kind of heat. Joe's fingers 
slid into her body, pumping slowly as his big rough 
thumb rubbed back and forth across her clit. Kristen 
whined in protest, but held unmoving, her fearful eyes 
staring up into Joe's hard angry ones.

At first, she wasn't even aware of her awakened 
arousal. For despite her many sexual encounters, 
Kristen had had an orgasm only once. That was with a 
woman high school teacher when she was fourteen. The 
woman had put her mouth down there and a feeling of 
such overwhelming pleasure had come over Kristen that 
it had frightened her.

She'd never allowed another woman's hands on her since 
then, for fear that she was in fact a homosexual, 
which, according to societies dictates, would have made 
her something less than perfect. Her trysts with men 
had been a cold sort of thing.

Mostly she just laid there and let them do as they 
wanted, a necessary evil for her to achieve something 
or other. She had moaned and groaned at the appropriate 
times, but seldom felt even an inkling of excitement 
herself. Her body was a tool to be used and admired, 
nothing else.

Most of her encounters in fact, had ended before actual 
intercourse. Kristen was skilled in overexciting me and 
then bringing them off either by hand or, if absolutely 
necessary, but mouth. She had only "gone all the way" 
half a dozen times, none of which had lasted more than 
a few minutes.

Now, the unaccustomed feelings coming from her crotch, 
combined with her flustered and fearful confusion 
towards Joe's confrontation and rudeness, left her in a 
floundering mental daze.

She half leaned, half sat back against the table, her 
legs slightly spread and her body bent back. Joe's hand 
continued to work away at her groin, which was 
responding with a tremendous wave of hot, tingling 
pleasure.

"Like that. Don't you baby?" he hissed, his lips pulled 
back into a snide, ugly smile.

He thrust his fingers harder and faster inside her now 
moist hot little pussy chamber. His thumb pressed down 
hard on her clitty, rasping across it with intense 
pressure.

Kristen was trembling and shaking, her body gripped by 
confusion and a sensual passion she did not know how to 
deal with. All she could do was continue to stare at 
Joe's face as his hand rubbed and pumped and squeezed 
down inside her shorts.

Then he growled, his left hand going behind her head 
and gripping a thick chunk of pink hair tightly. He 
jerked her head to one side, making her cry out, the 
cry, a low bird like chirp of confusion and fear. His 
mouth came down on hers, which was open anyway.

His tongue shot inside, rasping and whirling within her 
oral cavity. He held her tight against him, his hand 
rubbing roughly away at her crotch, his body pressing 
hers back against the table. The kiss was long, 
endless, when he withdrew, Kristen gasped, her chest 
heaving as she sought to draw breath.

Her eyes were wide and staring still as he pulled his 
hands free, grabbed the center of her tied blouse and 
tore it open, letting her hard swollen breasts drop 
out. His hands immediately captured them, cupping them 
from beneath, holding them up as his fingers kneaded 
the gleaming moist flesh.

His mouth descended, his lips sliding across her left 
nipple, then seizing, locking onto it. He chewed the 
nub as he sucked it into his mouth. Kristen moaned, a 
high pitched sound of bewilderment and negation. Joe 
drew his lips out, sucking the firm pink flesh.

Her nipple lengthened and expanded as it hardened, his 
lips enfolded the long stiff little bud as he ground 
them softly from side to side. He pulled away, then 
turned his attention to her right breast, her nipple, 
already hard and elongated, seemed to burn as his mouth 
enfolded it, and Kristen gave a shuddering moan.

"Oh!" she gasped. "Ohhhhhhhh! Ohhhhhhhh!"

Joe buried his face between her fat meaty mounds, 
squashing them in together from either side. His face 
rubbed up and down, then slid up along her throat, 
chewing and sucking until his lips locked on hers 
again. He held her tightly, his crotch grinding into 
hers.

His hand once again found her hair, twisting her head 
up and back for his lips. His right hand moved down and 
unzipped her shorts, then shoved, letting them fall to 
her ankles. Clad only in her thin silky bikini panties, 
Kristen found her legs unconsciously spreading.

Joe's hand slid inside, his fingers penetrating her 
sopping pussy, his thumb rubbing ruthlessly up and down 
on her hard clit. Kristen's groin humped against him as 
her body responded against her will. Her breathing was 
coming in short, harsh straining gasps.

She felt her body burning with a fiery heat. It was 
centered at her crotch and getting worse and worse. She 
was losing control of her muscles as her legs became 
weak and wobbly and her body trembled and shook 
alarmingly.

Then a roaring blast of hot blistering pleasure roared 
through her body, like an inferno it seemed to consume 
her very flesh as she convulsed in quivering, 
shuddering climax. Her hips humped out and down against 
Joe's sticky wet thrusting fingers and her legs parted 
widely, her body sitting back further on the table and 
her chest shoving out and up as her back arched.

Joe held tightly to her hair, fighting her body's 
jerking, humping, shaking contortions as he stared down 
at her gaping sightless face with deep satisfaction.

As her orgasm ended and her shaking subsided, he 
grabbed the panties and tore them right off, hurling 
them into a far corner. He shoved the girl back against 
the table until she lost her balance and fell back on 
it. His hands gripped her calves, shoving her legs 
wide, wide apart until her thighs ached with pain, the 
tendons strained alarmingly.

"Now you look good," he leered. "Now you're in the 
proper position." He abandoned her legs, his hands 
going to his own shorts. "I'm gonna give you that ride 
you been asking for, sweetheart." he grunted, taking 
his raging erection out and pointing it at her gleaming 
wet cunt crack.

Kristen laid exhausted, her chest heaving. She stared 
up at him, her mouth gaping, her eyes wide. She didn't 
know what was happening to her, or even why. She 
watched as if in slow motion as Joe's big cock moved 
closer and closer to her crotch.

Then she felt it, felt it wet and rubbery and yet still 
hard as iron as it pierced her oily cuntlips and pushed 
into her sodden cunt tunnel. Almost instantly it 
reignited her arousal. She felt her cunt expand to take 
in the intruder, then clamp down hard, drawing it 
further inside.

It was bigger than most of the cocks she'd known, but 
her pussy had little difficulty accommodating it. Joe's 
hands came down on her legs, holding them wide, almost 
parallel to the table edge as he stuffed his hot fuck 
tool, balls deep into the twitching, shivering little 
pink haired teenager.

He jammed it in hard, then tore it back out and slammed 
it in again. A good hard ride he had promised and a 
good hard ride she would get. He used full steady 
strokes, but sent them hammering down into her body 
with bruising impact.

His hips slammed into her spread thighs and buttocks 
with a meaty slap and a protesting creak from the table 
legs. His cock was a blurring piston as it rutted into 
the bewildered girl. Wave after wave of intense sexual 
fever washed over her, rendering her helpless and 
stunned.

When Joe let go of her legs to fasten his iron fingered 
hands around her meat swollen tit mounds, the force of 
his grip sent shock waves hurtling through her chest. 
It was as if her tits were bags of bubbling hot boiling 
sexual water and his hands had squeezed them flat, 
sending the liquid shooting into her body where it 
burned with maddening and agonized fervor.

Her body quaked, then rocked, her ass bounced up off 
the table without her willing it, then did it a second 
time. Her hands, resting on the table above her head, 
flopped and jerked and trembled, then her back arched 
with terrible force and she cried out in ecstatic 
release.

A loud groan of orgasmic satisfaction drifted out of 
the tent, causing the native porters to give each other 
knowing looks, but fortunately not reaching as far as 
the girl's parents, who were listening to a Brahms' 
symphony.

Kristen's head thrashed from side to side and her teeth 
gnashed as her body was gripped by an electric current 
that refused to let go. She shook furiously, her ass 
bouncing wildly on the table as Joe's hard boner 
continued to pound into her sizzling cunt chute.

"Yeah! Yeah! Go for it, baby!" Joe groaned, his cock 
flaring and steaming along its entire length. His hands 
gripped her waist, almost completely encircling her 
tiny waist. He hauled her back and forth on the table 
like a rag doll, jerking her against his savage 
thrusts.

Then the girl's cum finally subsided. Her body's 
shaking eased into light trembling and twitching. He 
bent forward across her, his cock screaming in 
excitement as he kept pumping it to her. Then he came, 
his cock like a firehouse as it jetted boiling white 
scum down into her exhausted, languorous body.

He laid atop her panting, sweat covered body as they 
both recovered. Neither spoke. His cock softened within 
her and he slid it slowly out, watching her glistening 
cuntlips slowly close together once more. He reeled 
back a pace, his shaking hands pulling his spent cock 
back inside his pants and fastening them together.

He shook his head, then looked down at the girl, lying 
there in a semi-conscious daze, and staggered out of 
the tent. Kristen laid atop the table for long minutes, 
her legs still spread wide as the furnace between them 
slowly cooled.

She raised her head wearily and looked around, then 
blinked slowly and with a groan, pulled her legs 
together and sat up. She shoved herself to a sitting 
position on the table, then eased off, almost falling 
as her rubbery legs failed to support her properly.

She was in a state of shock, her body and mind still 
staggered by the events they'd just experienced. It had 
been the first orgasm she'd experienced except by her 
own hand since fourteen. It was certainly by far the 
most powerful.

As her mind cleared it turned more and more to how it 
had happened. How had she let that... that... that 
animal turn her body into his own personal plaything? 
The kind of man that attracted her was smaller, 
handsomer, well... prettier, she thought. She'd never 
liked the rough tough jock type.

How was it then that her body had responded to him as 
it had? She blushed as she remembered how she'd cum 
with his hand down her panties, rubbing her off like 
that. How humiliating! How could she!? She wobbled 
across the canvas floor to her bed and practically fell 
in.

She was mortified! How could she possibly face the man 
in the morning? It must have been the heat, she 
decided. The heat and boredom and some kind of weird 
animal reflex on account of her being in the jungle 
like this. It wasn't her fault at all.

***

The next morning, Joe expected a change in personality. 
He was surprised and angered when it didn't turn out. 
His pleasant greeting was greeted by a turned up nose 
and a sniff of disdain. Kristen was intent on 
pretending last night had never happened.

"Sleep well?" he asked, slightly chastened.

"That is certainly none of your business, MISTER 
Steel," she said, contempt lacing every word.

"What's with you?"

"If I want to converse with you, which I doubt, I'll 
let you know." She sniffed, walking away. He glared 
after her in confusion.

Kristen tromped off into the bushes, her hands deep in 
the pockets of her knee length pink pants. Her bikini 
top was slightly too small for her perfect breasts, but 
then, all her tops were slightly too small. She glared 
around her, still upset by last night, and still not 
able to understand it.

She heard water and shifted direction towards it. A 
minute later, she came out on the bank of a swiftly 
moving river. She sat down on a stone and took off her 
shoes, dangling her feet in the water as she pondered 
the weakness her body had displayed.

Perhaps it wasn't her body at all, she thought. A man 
like that probably haunted whore houses and such. He 
must be greatly experienced in such things, though she 
would have thought he'd have been little better than a 
boorish slam-bam-thank-you-ma'am type.

She heard a strange sound and turned. Her eyes opened 
wide and she gasped in surprise and fear. A fat, round 
Black face stared back at her from a foot away. His 
eyes were equally wide as he beheld the strange looking 
beauty.

She screamed. 

He scrunched up his face and then put his hand over her 
mouth to stop it. His strong hands easily fended off 
her weak shoves and slaps and a quirky smile appeared 
on his face, then he scooped her up and carried her 
several yards upstream to his canoe.

He shoved the squirming girl down into the canoe, and 
with the speed and precision of a rodeo cowboy, had her 
hands behind her and bound tightly to her ankles within 
seconds. That done, he shoved the canoe out into the 
fast flowing water and paddled out into the center of 
the river.

The canoe raced downstream as Kristen squirmed around 
onto her side and gazed up at him. He was a nightmare 
come true. He wore only a loincloth, and his dark Black 
skin gleamed in the sun. A bracelet of some kind was 
around his upper arm, and another around his ankles. He 
wore no shoes and his feet were enormous.

Kristen wondered if she were to be eaten. He looked 
like the old pictures in the National Geographic she'd 
had to look at in Geography class. What was worse, 
sitting beside him in the handmade canoe, was a small 
ax and a bow. A knife was stuck into the side of his 
loincloth's belt.

Kristen quivered in fear, praying someone would rescue 
her before this savage cooked her for dinner or chopped 
off her head.

For his part, Mbinga, a member of the Bantu tribe, was 
more amused than anything. He'd never heard of a race 
that had pink hair before. In fact, he'd never even 
heard of the color pink.

Downstream was the rest of his hunting party and he was 
anticipating their own amusement and astonishment when 
he presented this strange looking female.

Joe was the first to arrive at the riverbank. He 
couldn't see any sign of Kristen, and first feared the 
idiot girl had fallen into the fast moving water and 
been carried away, then his eyes scanned the bank and 
saw the outline left by the canoe. He hastened over and 
examined the big footprints.

He took off his hat and wiped the sweat off his brows 
as the jungle resounded to the trampling sounds of the 
Taylors and some of the drivers. They were gonna love 
this, he thought with resignation. He turned and looked 
downstream. Well, that little girl is sure gonna get a 
lot of fucking now, whether she liked it or not.

He was more remorseful that it wouldn't be him doing it 
than that she'd get her little hole plugged. He had 
little fear for her life. The Bantu who inhabited this 
area might not be exactly civilized but they wouldn't 
kill anything as harmless as the pink haired teenager.

"What's going on!? Where's my daughter?" Charles cried 
as he burst through the bushes. Joe through out an arm 
and caught the man just before he fell into the river, 
dragging him back out from the waist deep water at 
once.

"Don't wanna be goin' in there, Mister Taylor. There's 
some pretty nasty types live in this water."

"Where's Kristen?" Lucy cried, arriving in front of 
several of the Black drivers.

"I'm afraid Kristen has gone for a little ride." He 
sighed. And I'm the one who's gonna have to go and 
fetch her back, he cursed inwardly. Silly little twat!

***

Kristen's wrists were pinched tightly by the thin 
vines. Her shoulders ached from having her arms pulled 
so tightly back, and her hands were starting to go 
numb. Her ankles were in no better condition. The 
savage had tied her very tightly and efficiently.

Her clothes were soon soaked with river water, for the 
canoe, though well made for its type, was not 
waterproof and an inch or so of water was always in the 
bottom.

Twenty minutes of paddling through the fast current 
landed the canoe in a small lake. The far bank held 
half a dozen canoes and Mbinga paddled across to them, 
calling out in the shrill sing-song greeting of the 
Bantu. There were answering calls from the eight men on 
the bank who were drying fish and skinning a boar.

Mbinga brought the canoe up against the bank, then 
jumped out and pulled it up after him. "Come see. Come 
see," he called excitedly. The others walked over to 
him as he lifted Kristen from the canoe and tossed her 
carelessly on the wet sand.

"What is this?" Contaw demanded, frowning.

"I found this strange looking female sitting alone by 
the river."

"Alone? A female?"

"She must have been banished from her tribe." Mbinga 
said.

"With hair like that, it is no wonder," Verwinti 
sniffed.

"What color is that, anyway?" Niyou asked.

"I do not know. I have never seen its like."

"Perhaps she is marked by the Gods."

"Or the devil," another suggested.

"All females are marked by the devil."

There were knowing nods from most of the men at that. 
Counta's woman had cheated on him and bore him 
another's son.

"What do we do with it?" Niyou wondered.

"Are you sure it's female?"

"Of course it's female. Look at it's mammary's there," 
he responded, indignantly.

Counta pulled out his knife and carefully slit the 
vines binding the woman's wrists and legs together. He 
slid a hand under her right arm and hauled her erect, 
where she stood trembling and staring at them.

"What if she is a witch?" Niyou hissed. There were 
murmurs of worry and several made a warding sign 
against the devil. They stepped back from the girl, 
who's head kept whipping from side to side, staring at 
them all.

"Red is the color of witches," someone said.

"She is not red she is White."

"Her hair. Her hair is red!"

"That is not red."

"What is it if not red?"

"If she were a witch she would not allow Mbinga to 
capture her."

"Perhaps she wants us to bring her back to the village 
so she can ensorcel us all."

There were more warding gestures.

"I am sure she is not a witch," Mbinga said 
indignantly.

"We should leave her."

"But if she is a cast out female she will die."

"Let her."

"That is not an honorable thing to say."

"We can not take the chance."

"There is no chance in it," Mbinga said. "I will prove 
that she is no witch right here."

"How? You mean..."

"I will make use of her the way a man uses a woman. No 
witch can stand that for she would lose her powers."

"She will not let you," Banga said, making more warding 
signs.

"I tell you she is not witch." Mbinga said. He moved 
against the girl and before she could react, tore her 
bra top in half. Kristen squealed and closed her arms 
over her breasts, trying to back away.

"Watch out Mbinga," someone warned.

Mbinga twisted the female around and held her arm 
firmly, his hand reached for the strange garments she 
wore on her hips and pulled downwards.

They easily slid down over her well rounded hips. 
Mbinga paused a moment to admire the perfect tone of 
her White buttocks, then grabbed the shorts and pulled, 
causing the female to fall on her back as he jerked 
them up and off.

"She is calling out a spell!"

The others moved further back, except Randow who was 
braver than most.

"At least bind her so we might survive!" Banga cried.

Kristen screamed and begged them to let her go, but 
they either ignored her or seemed to not understand. 
One of the natives stripped her naked and tossed her 
onto the ground. They were in a low clearing with dirt 
and a slight stubble of grass beneath her.

The two natives who hadn't backed off pulled her wrists 
to the ground. One of them held her right hand down 
while another picked up a rock and a foot long stick. 
Kristen screamed again, fearing they were about to 
drive it through her hand.

Instead the stake was driven deep into the ground. The 
second native tied a vine tightly around her wrist, 
then tied it to the vine. This was repeated with her 
other wrist, and her ankles, until Kristen was spread-
eagled and tied securely, hardly able to move a limb.

"Look. Her hair is a different color between her legs!"

"Surely that means she is a devil."

"I am not worried," Mbinga said, for he had once lived 
in the city and did not believe in witches any longer. 
He pulled off his loincloth and pulled on his long 
flaccid penis, watching the female struggling uselessly 
against the bindings.

She was not particularly attractive, though her hips 
were decently round and her breasts could feed many 
sons. He considered her too skinny though. The most 
attractive thing about her was her smooth unblemished 
flesh. For despite varying skin tones, he had never 
seen anyone with such pure and flawless skin.

He skinned his fist up and down on his organ, squeezing 
his fingers tightly. His eyes slid up and down the 
female's body, admiring the perfection of the ivory 
skin. He knelt beside her, still rubbing on his organ. 
His other hand moved to her groin and squeezed. It 
certainly felt like a true woman's.

Kristen's arms and legs pulled frantically at the tight 
vines, despite the pain it caused her bare wrists and 
ankles. Her eyes were wild and terrified as the savage 
knelt beside her and then began pawing at her crotch.

She let out a sob of defeat as his hand squeezed her 
crotch, then slid slowly up and down her body, 
caressing her smooth flat belly, then the skin of her 
chest above and between her breasts. Finally his hand 
rolled up and down over her upthrust breasts, pausing 
atop each little hillock to fondle her nipples.

Her eyes kept flicking from his hand on her skin, his 
skin rougher even than that pig from last night, and 
his prick, which was rapidly hardening under his 
flicking fingers. Then he let go of it and positioned 
himself between her legs, falling forward on top of the 
hapless girl.

She groaned in disgust and revulsion, feeling his hard, 
sun baked flesh atop hers. His skin was coarse and 
rough as it pressed down on her firm rounded breasts, 
irritating them and rasping across her twin nipples. 
His cock was a hard bone like thing pressed against her 
belly.

Then the man jerked up on one elbow and grabbed his 
cock. He pressed the uncircumcised head against her 
cunt. Kristen was terrified of it. She had never seen 
or heard of an uncircumcised cock before and thought it 
must be some kind of mutant thing, as if the man wasn't 
even human.

It pushed against her cuntlips like a normal cock 
though, and she felt her lips yield under its 
unrelenting pressure. It moved inside her body as she 
jerked against the vines once more, helpless and 
sobbing in misery and fear.

The cock pushed down deeper and deeper despite her 
tight squeezing of her pussy muscles. It rasped hard 
against her tight dry cunt as it moved in, bringing 
pain to her shaking body.

The man grunted and threw his hips forward, jamming 
another several inches of cock meat up into her belly. 
Kristen gave up resisting, she wept and let her head 
fall back, staring up at the sky as the man drove his 
cock fully into her body, his balls pressing against 
the underside of her buttocks as he sighed and rested 
atop her.

He pulled back almost immediately, then began a quick, 
forceful rutting against her crotch. Kristen grunted in 
pain as his long cock slid back and forth inside her 
pussy tunnel. The sky above gradually began to blot out 
as the other natives moved forward, somewhat reassured 
now that she was no danger, now that Mbinga had 
deflowered her.

They watched intently, making sure it could not be some 
trick. Their eyes followed Mbinga's organ as it moved 
back and forth, sliding in and out of the female's love 
hole.

Kristen's breath was harsh and uneven as she slowed her 
sobbing. Her eyes were watery with tears and saw 
everything blurry. Her ankles ached as the native 
raping her threw his hips against her crotch with a 
flurry of very hard thrusts, slamming her small, light 
body upwards against the bindings on her ankles.

Then he grunted in pleasure and came inside her. 
Kristen was as horrified as most women would have been 
if a dog or pig had cum inside her. She imagined the 
foul wet stuff burning away inside her belly, like some 
terrible acid.

"You see. I told you," Mbinga sighed.

"I will try and see," Niyou said.

"You do not think she could still be a witch," Mbinga 
accused.

"No." Niyou grinned. "But if you are going to sell her, 
I should find out how she rides first."

There were several laughs, though several men still 
looked worriedly.

Niyou knelt between the female's legs, his own organ 
already hard.

Kristen groaned in dismay as the second native climbed 
on top of her. She watched dully as his fat cock pushed 
against her pussy and then drove inside. This one was 
much more eager than the first. His hands roved across 
her body, squeezing and caressing her skin.

His hands folded atop her breasts as he held himself 
fully inside her, and he began to fondle them roughly, 
then his mouth bent and he kissed her on the lips. 
Kristen almost threw up in disgust. She closed her 
teeth and lips tightly and turned her head away.

The native grabbed her pink hair, a move that brought 
ooohs of worry from some of the men watching. He held 
her head tightly and kissed her again, preventing her 
from shifting aside. Still, her lips and teeth remained 
tightly closed.

He cursed and backhanded her, knocking her head to one 
side. The Bantu did not tolerate defiance in women and 
certainly not in captured slaves, which was what 
Kristen was for the moment. He slapped her in the other 
direction, then backhanded her again.

She surrendered with a woeful sob and her mouth opened. 
Niyou's lips closed against hers and his tongue shot 
into her mouth. His hands slipped under her and 
clutched her round buttocks his nails sliding deeply 
into the tender, malleable flesh.

He resumed his wild pumping, his cock pounding in and 
out of her cunt tube so hard that her body was half 
lifted with each stroke. Kristen felt strange tastes in 
her mouth and wondered what manner of awful thing the 
savage ate.

Her cunt ached from the ferocious assault of his 
hammering cock tool. Her ass flesh was being squeezed 
and kneaded as he hauled her up against his downward 
thrusts. He humped against her fiercely, now raising up 
his chest and howling in glee. His body was arching 
backwards as his cock slammed deep into Kristen's body 
and spewed out its load of hot white semen.

"Her love tunnel feels almost unused," he gasped to the 
others. "It is amazingly tight on my manhood."

Most of the women in the Bantu were heavy and their 
pussies were consequently larger than the comparatively 
skinny girl now staked out on the grass.

The next native tore off his loincloth and dropped 
between her legs. Again, a hot male organ was driven 
deep into Kristen's body and the humping renewed. She 
closed her eyes, tears spilling down the sides of her 
face as she was raped for the third time.

The sun blazed down overhead on the lewd and carnal 
scene, as one after the other, each of the nine men 
present got on top of the skinny White girl and used 
her body for their own pleasures. Mbinga then used her 
for a second time, to restate his ownership of her.

Finally, all were satisfied. They were satisfied not 
just in their lusts, but that the female was no threat. 
No witch could have any power after being ridden so 
hard by so many Bantu men.

Kristen's arms and wrists were cut loose and the weary, 
miserable girl was hauled to her wobbly feet. Her hands 
were bound behind her once more, but her feet remained 
free as the natives put her aboard one of the canoes 
and set off down the river again.


Chapter 3
---------

Joe knelt and stared at the tracks in front of him. It 
had taken more than two days to get a motorboat and 
then find where the Bantu had come out of the river, 
and now all it showed was that they'd gone back in 
again soon after. He glared at the tracks in 
frustration.

Actually, the signs told more than just that. The 
stakes were still in the ground, and part of the vines 
were still attached. It didn't take a great deal of 
imagination to guess what had been tied down like that 
and why.

He let out a cold smile. He kind of wished he'd been 
there to see it. He was willing to bet the little bitch 
had gone nuts. He sighed again and walked back to the 
boat, waving the pilot to start up again. He hadn't 
brought a lot of men. He knew he wouldn't have to take 
Kristen back by force.

The Bantu sold their captives and he had more than 
enough to outbid anyone else for her, at least, anyone 
among the tribe. The motorboat eased back into the 
river and then shot forward.

He cursed again, how was he even supposed to find the 
proper village anyway? There were scores of Bantu 
villages around here. He just hoped he got her before 
she was pregnant. If that happened and the Bantu became 
aware of it they wouldn't part with her until the brat 
was dropped.

***

After two more hours on the river, the canoes slowly 
pulled ashore. There were a number of other canoes 
there and the natives pulled out all their canoes and 
rested them alongside the others. None of the vessels 
belonged to any one village, they were shared by those 
who happened to want them at a particular time on a 
first-come-first-served basis.

After overturning the canoes, they set out down a 
narrow trail that became almost imperceptible after a 
hundred paces. Kristen was dragged along behind them, 
still completely naked and her wrists still tied behind 
her.

Mbinga tied a long vine around her throat and led her 
behind him exactly as if she were a goat. A goat 
however, would have been much more sure footed.

Kristen had difficulty almost from the start. The 
natives set off on a natural pace that ate up the miles 
rapidly. For her it was almost impossible to keep up. 
Another problem was her bare feet. The natives had no 
need of shoes. Their soles were hardened from years of 
walking.

Kristen kept stepping on rocks and pebbles and sharp 
twigs. She hopped and whined and cried out in soreness. 
Mbinga kept tugging on the rope to encourage her onward 
but she kept falling in pain. Finally the column 
stopped and Mbinga went back in exasperation to examine 
her feet.

One examination told him that her feet were like the 
soft city people. He could not understand this since 
she hadn't been wearing any footwear when he'd captured 
her. Nevertheless, he hauled out a long strip of hide 
and bound it around her right foot, doing the same with 
the other.

They set off again, her feet now somewhat protected. 
Still, Kristen kept falling back. She was panting 
exhausted within a few minutes and dragging back on the 
vine. Mbinga glared back in irritation, then handed the 
line to Cowqe.

Cowqe pulled the female on while Mbinga drifted back 
behind her. He picked up a light stick a foot long from 
the bush and began smacking it down on her round ass 
cheeks whenever it looked like she was lagging behind. 
Each whack produced a satisfying burst of speed, as 
well as a yelp of pain. The stick would not damage her 
perfect skin, for he knew that would be the main 
selling point of this girl, that and her tight love 
hole. The girl fell back again and he whipped the cane 
across her ass again, making her cry out and run 
faster.

Kristen would have wept in misery but she had no breath 
for it. Her chest burned and ached as she trotted along 
behind the natives. Every time she slowed the one 
behind slashed his hard stick against her behind. She 
yelped again as the stick descended.

She was getting dizzy and lightheaded as her pain 
numbed body neared the end of its resources. No matter 
what Mbinga did she would have to slow down.

Mbinga slapped at her behind again, then again and 
again, and again, soon making the entire area red with 
pain and soreness. The girl kept yelping, yet did not 
increase speed significantly and then not at all. In 
fact she was slowing down further. Mbinga growled and 
whipped her harder.

Kristen gave a final panting gasp and fell forward into 
the grass. The natives halted and Mbinga came up to 
stand over her frowning. She would not bring such a 
good price if she were indeed this weak. He reached 
down and grabbed her by her long thick hair and jerked 
her up to her knees, holding her there despite her best 
efforts to collapse.

"It is no use. We will have to wait for her to rest," 
he told the others.

"But we have long to go, Mbinga."

"We can not rest this soon, else it will take us days 
to reach home."

"Then we must carry her," Mbinga shrugged.

"Only if we share in her price."

He frowned angrily, then tugged viciously on the vine, 
making the sweating girl choke briefly.

"All right then," he agreed, sullenly, all his visions 
of profits tainted by the weakness of this female.

Niyou and Counta chopped down a tall bamboo and skinned 
it quickly, as Mbinga and Contaw rebound her wrists and 
ankles in front of her. The pole, about eight feet 
long, was then thrust between her arms and legs. Mbinga 
and Counta took the first shift, lifting her off the 
ground and setting the pole on their shoulders.

They set out once again, Kristen bouncing beneath the 
pole, her wrists and ankles burning with pain as her 
weight hung suspended from them. They ignored her 
complaints, continuing their unhurried, ground eating 
pace for long hours.

Kristen gradually lost the feeling in her wrists and 
ankles and a numbness set in around them. Her head 
bounced and jerked as she moved through the grasses, 
her tangled hair sometimes covering her face 
completely. She fell in and out of consciousness, her 
body utterly drained by the day's events.

Then the natives cut across a miles wide grassland. 
Kristen's body, carried along only a foot or so above 
the ground, slid through a near continuous wave of tall 
grasses. They slid like coarse feathers against her 
upper thighs and buttocks, then downward across her 
cunt, and down off her as she passed over them.

Her ass felt as if an endless revolving brush was 
rubbing across her entire nether area. Her cunt, 
peering out from between her legs, was especially 
sensitive to the continuous sliding caress of the 
grasses. It began to tingle at the light massage.

Slowly, with Kristen totally unaware of it, her body 
became aroused. Her mind, what was left conscious of 
it, was too caught up in her own misery to even notice. 
Still, her cunt soon sizzled and burned and itched with 
need, providing yet another source of profound aching 
in her young body.

The tingling grew greater and greater, the raping 
caress of the grasses making her ass jerk and tremble 
instinctively. She needed something, needed relief, 
needed something more than these light constant, 
endless rubbing stalks.

She moaned, then moaned louder. Her delirious body 
jerked and jumped on the pole. Her eyes fluttered open 
and closed and she whined in seeming pain. The two 
natives carrying her stopped, calling to their 
comrades. They set her down and peered at her 
uncertainly, wondering what was the matter.

Mbinga hurried back, glaring down at the woman and 
beginning to wish he'd never taken her. "What is the 
matter with her now?" he sighed. They pulled the pole 
free from her, leaving her on her back. The girl's eyes 
were closed and she gave no sign of the source of her 
pain.

"Perhaps the bindings are too tight," Niyou ventured.

Then the girl's bound hands slid downward into her 
crotch. Instantly her behind humped upward against her 
hands and her fingers pushed into her love hole. The 
watching men stared in amazement. "What is she doing?" 
Rayogh wondered.

Mbinga knelt beside her and pulled her hands away, 
jamming his own between her crotch. Again, she shot her 
behind upward, arching her back and moaning loudly. His 
hand came away sopping wet. He held it up to the others 
with astonishment and happiness. This sign of her heat 
would definitely increase her price.

"She needs a man's organ in her hole," he said.

"That is a wondrous thing indeed," Ghougumba said, 
shaking his head.

"Perhaps it is this way with these people," Niyou said. 
"Perhaps their females need a man's organ every few 
hours or else are in pain."

"I envy their men," Counta said, causing laughter.

"Well, I will take care of her," Mbinga said.

"I will help if you like," Niyou said.

"I am sure I can sate her fires," Mbinga replied with 
dignity.

He turned the girl over onto her belly and hauled her 
up off the ground so she was kneeling on all fours. Her 
arms promptly gave way and her head and shoulders sank 
back to the ground. Mbinga knelt behind her and brought 
his organ out from his loincloth.

He didn't bother to undo her wrists, but cut away the 
bindings on her ankles and spread her legs apart. Now 
her knees started to give way. His hands slid around 
her waist and held her steady for a moment, then, 
holding her with one arm, he used his other hand to 
place his organ against her tight and very wet love 
hole.

He replaced his grip on the female's waist, then thrust 
forward hard. The girl yowled like a kicked dog. Her 
head shot up and her back arched and then she shuddered 
all over. Before the startled Mbinga could move she 
began rutting furiously back against his organ, humping 
her ass with a bizarre desperation.

He began to respond in kind, pounding his groin against 
her behind with eager desire. Her love hole sucked and 
slurped at his organ more than any he had ever plumbed. 
He could not withhold his white love juice from her as 
his body shook and she sucked out all of his seed.

Counta moved in at once and he sheathed his own organ 
in her spasming love hole. He humped like a mad dog, 
shooting off inside her in seconds before being 
replaced by Niyou. He took her with long, hard thrusts 
that drove her from her knees.

His big hands kept hauling her back up to meet his 
strokes and all there saw the White female's body 
tremble all over once again as grunts of pleasure came 
from her pretty lips.

The tribesmen continued to sheath their sabers in the 
girl long after her body spent itself and knelt, then 
laid unmoving. Finally, they lifted her on the poles 
again and carried her a few more miles before camping 
for the night by a stream.

***

Joe had finally found where they'd come out of the 
river, at the communal fishing point for the long neck 
bands. That was some help but not much. There were over 
fifty separate villages on that side of the Reboogie 
River that made use of this spot.

He was forced to wander inland, instantly losing their 
trail amongst the scores of others that had wandered up 
and down here in the past two days. There was nothing 
he could do but visit each of the villages and hope 
that she was in one of the closer ones.

If she wasn't then he was in trouble. The further 
villages were much more war like. They had to be for 
they vied with the Pouta tribes in that area. The Pouta 
tribes were extremely dangerous, especially to White 
men.

He moved down the trail, accompanied by his three 
bearers. He knew though, that they'd abandon him if 
they came close to the Pouta areas. None wished to be 
eviscerated by the angry tribes of the north.

***

It was night. The sound of crickets and other night 
insects filled the air. The tribesmen knew the insects 
as their friends, their guards through the night. For 
if ought approached the insects would cease their song 
to tell them of danger.

They sat quietly around their small fire, speaking in 
low voices. Some ate quietly, gulping down tough pieces 
of dried meat. In a corner, Kristen sat, propped 
against a tree. She was conscious now, though not 
greatly alert. Her wrists were bound behind the tree 
and her head lolled forward.

She shivered with cold for the air had chilled with the 
loss of light. Her dull eyes gazed bleakly around at 
the savages sprawled about her and she started to 
wonder not if, but whether she would ever return home. 
She wept silently, feeling immensely sorry for herself 
and cursing everyone and everything that had brought 
her to this place.

Her dreams were filled with big barbarous Black savages 
and their immense prongs.

The tribesmen woke before dawn and began making 
preparations for the continued journey. They ate 
lightly and relieved themselves away from the camp. 
Kristen was cut loose and placed on her hands and 
knees, then several of the tribesmen took her... 
casually, though with pleasure.

Her hands were bound behind her and the vine attached 
to her throat again. Then they all set out. Kristen's 
legs ached ferociously, and were unbearably stiff. But 
under the continued pressure of the rope around her 
neck, they soon heated and became more limber.

She jogged behind the natives, keeping up at first. 
After ten or fifteen minutes though, she began falling 
behind. Mbinga began lashing her behind with a cane 
which sped her up for a while, but finally she 
collapsed like the previous day and they were forced to 
carry her again.

The Bantu were not cruel without reason, and, not 
wanting to cause the woman any unnecessary pain, 
stopped and took her at regular intervals. They were 
pleased that this seemed to work so well.

Several hours into their journey the Bantu slowed, 
becoming more cautious. They removed their bows from 
around their shoulders and held arrows to them as they 
moved through the grass. Their voices became mere 
whispers as they moved along.

Kristen hardly noticed this however as she had become 
numbed by the long journey and repeated rapes. Every 
portion of her anatomy ached terribly and her brain 
reeled with despair.

Early that evening, they finally came into the tribe's 
territory. The men hailed guards and minutes later, 
jogged into the brightly lit village. Kristen was set 
down with the other parcels and packages as the men 
greeted wives and comrades.

She looked around dully, then became more alert. After 
two days naked in the company of the small hunting 
group she'd become accustomed to it. Now though, scores 
of men women and children crowded around, all 
chattering gaily and staring at her.

She covered her nudity as best she could, her skin 
reddening in humiliation. A number of the people were 
pointing at her and chattering. A small child rushed 
forward and poked her with a stick before being chased 
away by Mbinga.

She was carried into a hut and deposited on the dirt 
floor. There she waited in the dark for some time 
before a native woman, a fat thing with huge hanging 
breasts and a kind of skirt around her waist, came in 
and shoved a bowl of some unidentifiable substance into 
her hands.

She looked at it worriedly and the woman made eating 
sounds and lifted her hands in an obvious pantomime 
that Kristen should eat the stuff. It was hard to see 
it in the dark of the hut but it smelled good. She 
brought it to her lips and began to slurp it down.

Satisfied, the woman left. Kristen finished the stuff, 
which was surprisingly filling, and rolled onto her 
side, eventually falling asleep.

***

"I tell you it isn't that dangerous," Joe glared.

"No go, Boss man. No go," the man shook his head 
firmly. Joe sighed and nodded. It would be pointless to 
try and argue any more. The men dumped his things and 
started back down the trail.

He picked up the necessities, including his 30-30 with 
the scope and the little Uzi submachine gun, neither of 
which he hoped he'd need. He loaded on extra ammo and 
rations, a change of clothes and a few other things, 
then started uphill.

Within minutes he'd left the impaled skull that had 
been left as a warning far behind. He found himself 
panting and cursed under his breath, trying to ease the 
sound of his breathing.

He reached the top and started along a very faint 
trail, hoping he didn't run into the fellows who'd made 
it. Out in this part of the jungle the Bantu, just like 
the Pouta, would kill anyone they ran across before 
even stopping to see who it was.

He made decent time the first several hours, but then 
had to slow down to move more quietly. Every now and 
then he stopped when he heard some unidentified noise, 
then moved forward more carefully. By nightfall he'd 
made only a half dozen miles.

He climbed a tall tree and tied himself to a branch, 
spending an uneasy night up there. When he got that 
little bitch back, she was gonna owe him a good hard 
ride, that was for sure.

***

The animals wakened with the brightening sky and so did 
the tribesmen and women. The little village bustled 
with movement as the women hurried out to take care of 
the animals and cook the morning meal. Kristen was 
visited once more by the big fat faced woman who gave 
her some gooey substance on a thick chunk of leaves and 
insisted she eat it.

That done, her hands and legs were untied and the big 
woman hauled her out of the hut and through the early 
morning bustle. Kristen tried to cover her nudity with 
her hands but the big woman had a hold of her left so 
she only had her right, which she held over her right 
breast, her hand in front of her pussy.

She was led down to a stream where several other big 
women waited. The big woman with her waded out into the 
stream, dragging Kristen behind her. When they were 
waist deep, she shoved down on Kristen's head, 
submersing her in the water.

Kristen surfaced with a spray of water, coughing the 
water out of her mouth. Three women surrounded her and 
began to rub at her body with coarse weeds. She 
protested weakly, trying to draw away but they treated 
her as if she were a baby that needed washing, and did 
so.

The weeds were coated with a soapy goo they'd made and 
soon had her skin tingling and stinging as they rasped 
roughly across. They soaped up her hair and face and 
between her legs without a trace of bother at touching 
another woman's private parts.

When they were finished they dunked her underwater 
several times and then hauled her ashore. The first big 
woman led the sputtering teenager up the low hill to 
the village and then sat her down on a small stool 
outside a hut.

A coarse comb soon ran through her hair as the woman 
brought the tangled mess to semblance of order. A 
chastened Kristen bore the pulling of the comb bravely, 
hardly yelling at all. When it was done the woman 
beamed at her, pointed a finger at her and said 
something, which Kristen took to mean, "Wait here."

She sat there wet and naked, holding her arms across 
her chest and her legs tight together, for almost an 
hour. Then Mbinga came for her. He pulled her to her 
feet and then walked around, inspecting her. He nodded, 
pleased, for the journey had left no mark on her 
flawless skin.

He pulled her by the arm out into the center of the 
village. Kristen had no choice but to go along. In the 
center of the village was a round platform of sorts. It 
was made of wood and about a foot high. In the middle 
of it were two thick poles, placed several feet apart.

Each was over eight feet tall, and a third, horizontal 
pole was lashed across their tops forming a crude 
frame. This frame was usually used to hang especially 
big animals that a brace hunter had killed, so the 
tribe could admire them.

Now it was Kristen that was lashed between the poles. 
Her arms were pulled high above her and tied to either 
pole so that she was standing absolutely erect. Then, 
despite her abject protests, her legs were also pulled 
apart and lashed to the poles.

She was thus bound very tightly in the shape of an X, 
and left there. Mbinga wanted her displayed in such a 
way that she could be easily examined. Crowds of people 
came close and examined her as Mbinga called out to 
them that she would be sold in one half hour.

The people were amazed at her strange hair coloring, 
though Mbinga allayed their fears by assuring them that 
if she ever was a witch, she couldn't be now. He also 
confided to them about her especially tight love hole, 
and stroked her skin as he pointed out how perfect and 
unblemished it was.

Numerous villagers came up next to her and slid their 
hands over her body, marveling at its smooth soft 
texture and pale ivory tone. Prospective buyers 
squeezed her breasts and felt between her legs, making 
sure all her parts were intact. Several also forced her 
mouth open and inspected her teeth.

Kristen gazed around in terror and humiliation. This 
was worse than her worse nightmare ever had been. She 
bit her tongue and moaned as men and women of all ages 
crowded up against her naked body, fondling and 
caressing her.

She was afraid she was going to be subjected to some 
kind of mass rape and was horrified at the number, and 
looks of the people who might do it. She yelped as a 
big woman stuffed her thick fat finger up inside 
Kristen's asshole, searching for signs of bleeding.

Never could she have imagined being so utterly degraded 
and abased. She wept in shame as more and more of them 
crowded around her, their eyes sliding excitedly over 
her nude form, their voices cackling in her ears.

After the hour was up, Mbinga began to take offers for 
the female. Initially, the bids were low, as she was on 
the skinny side. However, when he described how hot and 
tight she was inside, and how her race seemed to need 
sex regularly, there was considerably more interest.

Instead of pigs, goats were offered, along with several 
spears and bows. He began to think he might well profit 
from the weak White female, even after splitting the 
cut with his hunting comrades. Then a truly deep voice 
spoke up from the rear of the crowd.

Lunga had no need to push his way to the front. At 
seven feet tall, he could easily see over everyone 
else's head. His thick, powerfully muscled frame stood 
on two tree trunk sized legs that could almost outrun 
an elephant. Indeed, when Lunga ran the ground rumbled 
like an elephant was passing.

Lunga, in fact, meant elephant in Bantu, for at birth 
he had been so enormous that his mother had barely 
survived his parting and her love hole was never the 
same. He was easily the strongest man in the village, 
able to lift a water buffalo.

"Three goats." he offered. It was a wonderful offer, 
but then Lunga was the wealthiest man in the village, 
other than the chief. His hunting skills were 
extraordinary. No one sought to top his offer and 
Mbinga clapped his hands, signaling the end of the 
bidding.

The crowd parted before Lunga who tromped up to the 
girl hanging on the frame and examined her with 
interest. Beside him were his two wives, Churla and 
Gumne, both weighed in at over two hundred pounds and 
both were shaking their heads at their man's 
foolishness.

"She will provide you with many satisfying rides, 
Lunga." Mbinga said. If she doesn't split apart, he 
silently added. Lunga was a man of few words. He nodded 
with a low rumbling grunt. He slid his huge hand onto 
the girl's front, covering her entire belly easily.

"Soft!" he grunted.

"She's weak and small," Churla sighed.

"Will get stronger."

"But no bigger. She looks fully grown, if skinny."

"Feed," Lunga said.

"We'll have to feed her a cow," Gumne sniffed.

Lunga paid them no heed, as was the way of men with 
women in the Bantu. He reached down and tugged on the 
vines holding her ankles, snapping them like seaweed. 
Then he pulled on the vines holding her wrists to the 
poles and she came free, dropping into his massive 
arms. She gazed at him in shock, her small body held 
against him like a child against her mother.

Lunga held one hand under her behind and walked back to 
his hut with her, his two wives trailing behind and 
still shaking their heads.

He carried the female into the hut and put her down on 
the floor, where she nearly collapsed from weakness. 
Then he turned to his two wives and grunted a demand 
that she be prepared for him for later. He picked up 
his spear then and moved out, going off to hunt.

Churla and Ghumne gazed down at the skinny female in 
disgust, then sighed and set to work. They cut the 
remains of the vines off her wrists and ankles and then 
sat her back against the side of the hut. Churla brewed 
up some special medicine that the clan long knew as a 
powerful aphrodisiac.

It was not for Lunga of course, since both wives knew 
of his enormous sexual drive and hunger. No, Lunga's 
partner would need the brew to fortify her, to convince 
her body to respond with all the necessary actions that 
would minimize the trauma involved with mating with 
Lunga.

Lunga was not named after an elephant merely because of 
his body's size, but because of his "trunk," as the 
Bantu laughingly called it. His male organ was a source 
of much pride to he and his wives, being far larger 
than any other man in the village possessed.

It was, had the Bantu any such measuring devices, well 
over a foot long and six inches around, making it 
somewhat thinner than a baseball bat. Many awed 
comments were made about it on the occasions when he 
was nude, such as the ceremonial potency dance.

When erect it became as hard as the hardest iron and 
both wives had cause to worry about whether this small 
framed female would survive the first introduction to 
it.


Chapter 4
---------

Joe knelt behind a large coconut tree as the group of 
Pounta warriors moved past. He held the Uzi in his 
hands, almost not breathing until they had passed. An 
encounter now would have made it extremely difficult to 
continue the search, to say nothing of the danger to 
his skin.

He heaved a sigh of relief when they'd passed, then 
lowered the gun. Just as he did an arrow thunked into 
the tree next to his head. He dove flat and rolled, 
hearing several other arrows zipping past him as he 
rolled behind a bush and pair of trees.

He peered through the bush, seeing nothing. Looking 
back at the tree, he could see the direction the arrows 
had come from, just behind that set of trees there, he 
decided. Then one of the bushes shook and he fired an 
entire clip into the area, shaking the gun from side to 
side to spread out the impact area.

As soon as the clip was empty he jumped to his feet and 
raced back the way he'd come along the trail. There 
were no sounds behind him. Even if he'd hit one of the 
natives and not killed him the man would not have made 
a sound.

After thirty seconds, he turned and jumped as far as he 
could off the trail, landing and rolling. Then he began 
crawling as fast as he could without making noise. He 
clutched the reloaded Uzi to his chest as he moved as 
far from the trail as possible.

Once out of sight of it, he jumped to his feet and 
struck out at an angle, moving swiftly, but quietly. 
Nobody could outrun the natives of this area, so his 
only hope lay in silence, in them not knowing exactly 
where he was.

He cursed furiously as he moved. He was reasonably sure 
he'd killed a few of the Pounta, if that was indeed 
them in the bushes, and that meant they'd never stop 
tracking him. This was going to make it damned hard to 
find that girl, unless he brought an army back here.

He heard no movement behind him, but he knew better 
than to take heart in that. The Pounta wouldn't make 
any noise. His little jump off the trail wouldn't fool 
them for more than a minute, and despite his 
precautions as he moved, they would find his trail very 
soon.

He moved between a pair of tall trees, then stopped. He 
quickly reached back and pulled a thin spool of fishing 
line from his pack, tying it and then stringing it 
around one of the trees, through the bushes and around 
the other tree trunk. He attached a grenade to either 
end and then raced away, knowing they couldn't be far 
behind now.

He was right, less than thirty seconds after he started 
running there was a loud double explosion behind him. 
He smiled grimly. If they hadn't heard him running, 
they might have been watching the ground more 
carefully. Now they'd have to slow down considerably to 
avoid any similar traps he left.

That gave him time, which was what he really needed. He 
was no slouch at losing pursuit, and given enough space 
between him and his pursuers he was reasonably sure 
he'd be able to lose them. The trouble was he was 
heading directly away from the Bantu villages and 
towards the Pounta 

***

Kristen wrinkled her nose and pushed away the bowl but 
the old fat woman insisted, pushing it back at her 
again. She'd already drank a bowl of the foul smelling 
stuff and didn't want any more, but couldn't seem to 
get that across to the big woman.

The heat and smell of the first bowl was already making 
her sick. Her chest felt on fire and her stomach 
rumbled. Nevertheless, she began sipping on the bowl, 
thinking forlornly about the cases of spring water in 
the jeeps they'd brought.

Only after she finished the terrible stuff did the old 
woman let go her hold on the bowl. She looked at 
Kristen curiously, her fat hand feeling Kristen's 
belly, then her chest, between her breasts, then her 
forehead. She nodded then moved away, saying something 
to the other fat woman.

The two of them picked up another pot of something. 
Kristen groaned, praying it wasn't something else she 
had to eat. She didn't think she could keep anything 
else down. Her stomach was feeling more quivery and 
unsettled by the minute.

But they didn't hold the bowl near her face, instead 
they turned her over onto her hands and knees, pushing 
her down and holding her there, though she didn't 
resist. One of the fat women took a handful of thick 
goo that looked like a kind of dark honey or molasses, 
and rubbed it against Kristen's crotch.

Kristen was startled, but didn't move away. The fat 
woman rubbed her hand up and down Kristen's pubic mound 
for a few seconds, then slowly thrust a finger in 
between Kristen's pussy lips. Kristen tried to move 
away, but the other fat woman snapped something angrily 
and Kristen trembled but held still.

The finger inside her pushed deep into her cunt tunnel, 
then wriggled around, pressing first one side, then 
another, then another, then another. It withdrew, then 
slid in again. It withdrew, and then two fingers were 
thrust into her.

Kristen could feel her pussy oily and wet with the 
greasy slime she'd put on her cuntmound. The two 
fingers pressed against opposite sides of her pussylips 
and opened her up. Now two more fingers, then three 
more were placed against her pussy mouth, all holding 
her cunt wide open.

She whimpered in pain as the first fat woman held her 
cunt wide open. The second fat woman slapped heaping 
handfuls of that smelly oozing molasses stuff against 
her, then began to thrust several fingers into her 
pussy, rubbing the stuff into her good.

Kristen had no idea why they were doing that, in fact, 
she was finding it increasingly hard to think anything 
coherently. Her brain was in a strange muddle and she 
didn't know why. Suddenly, she giggled, then stopped, 
amused at nothing in particular.

The woman behind her continued to rub her fingers in 
and out of her pussy tunnel. The second woman let her 
cuntlips go and they closed tightly around the second 
woman's three fingers, which continued to slide in and 
out of her cunt tunnel.

Churla pulled her fingers free from the White girl's 
love tunnel and stood up, wiping her fingers off on her 
skirt. She accepted a drink of retgha from Ghumne and 
watched the still kneeling girl. Beneath her legs, as 
if she had released it from her bowels, was a wet pile 
of Churla's brew. More continued to dribble out from 
her love hole now that it was closed.

That was all right. Lunga would not be happy if the 
girl was a mess down there. Churla gave her love hole a 
few minutes to push out the excess liquid, then moved 
back to her. By this time, the girl was humming softly 
and moving her head from side to side like an imbecile.

Churla led her a few feet away from the pile of liquid, 
then knelt beside her once again. She wiped the girl's 
crotch dry, then began to rub her finger up and down 
the little pink slit. She found the centerpiece of 
woman's enjoyment, up at the top of the love-hole, and 
began to manipulate it carefully.

Churla had done this a number of times before, always 
with new virgin wives. Normally the Bantu girl's 
married as soon as they began menstruating, and as such 
the girl's were often of small size compared with the 
men. The men married only when they were old enough to 
pay the bride price to the girl's father.

The girl's humming became more highly pitched as Churla 
worked on her love button. The girl's behind began to 
push back against Churla's rubbing fingers. That was 
good. Churla knew that the girl's own love hole would 
now be manufacturing its own grease to ease Lunga's 
passage.

She kept rubbing the little button though and the girl 
pumped her behind out at her with more vigor. Churla 
stopped then, though the girl continued to rut her ass 
backwards for several seconds. Churla waited a time, 
then began to rub the little button again.

By the time Lunga returned half an hour later, the 
White girl was sobbing and shaking with need. Churla 
had never brought a girl to such heights of need 
before. Were it not for the immensity of Lunga's organ 
she would not do so now. It was a cruel thing to do.

Though neither could understand the White girl's 
language, they could both recognize the pleading and 
begging and weeping, and felt sorry for the girl. They 
both knew that it was for her own good however. She 
would receive her reward many times over when Lunga 
took her.

Churla gave her trembling body a final rub, then stood 
up. She and Ghumne lifted the girl by the arms and 
carried her to a big log that was covered with a 
blanket. Even they could not take Lunga's massive 
weight upon their body and of course, no one could 
expect this slight creature to do so.

They set her down belly down, across the log. It was 
almost too high for the girl's knees to touch the 
ground, though she was not a short girl. They balanced 
her carefully, with her top draped down one side and 
her ass sticking up in the air.

Each pulled a leg apart, opening up what was now a 
steaming volcanic pit in the girl's crotch. Lunga 
nodded with a grunt and the two moved aside.

Lunga stripped off his weapons and loincloth, standing 
there naked. He smiled happily as he looked down at the 
trembling White buttocks looking up at him. His hand 
went to his manhood, which was already at half 
erection. Fat fingers shucked up and down as he knelt 
behind the girl.

Very quickly, his manhood rose up between his legs 
until it was pointing straight out towards the girl's 
gleaming moist pussy mouth. Lung looked at her smoothly 
rounded ass cheeks with interest, dropping his big 
leathery hands on them and kneading the soft flesh.

He grumbled with pleasure, then took his right hand off 
to fold it around his thick penis. He pushed the 
uncircumcised head against the opening to the girl's 
love hole and slowly pushed forward. At first, her love 
hole flatly refused to open before his blunt nosed 
organ.

He was a warrior however and used to challenges and 
adversity. He pushed harder, then harder still. Slowly 
his organ began to sink into the incredible tightness 
between the girl's legs. As he did, she whined and 
mewled and shook her body atop the log.

Kristen was dazed and unhappy. She didn't know what was 
going on, but her body felt tense and wet and itchy. 
The itch was most pronounced between her legs, being so 
itchy and tingly that she kept trying to touch and 
scratch it. The women wouldn't let her though.

The strangeness in her belly grew and grew and she 
began to whine, then suddenly, she felt something push 
firmly against her cunt opening. She mewled with 
pleasure for firm pressure was what she instinctively 
knew she needed to gain the release that would satisfy 
her belly.

The firmness became greater and greater, and she felt a 
pain, almost a tearing between her legs. She whimpered 
in pain, trying to draw away, but was held in a grip of 
iron. The pressure mounted and she felt her pussy lips 
being forced unnaturally wide around something.

She kept trying to crawl up over the log and escape but 
couldn't move an inch. Her pussy lips continued to 
open, to spread as some massive thing pushed against 
her. She felt it stab into her body, prying open the 
front of her cunt tunnel as it drove into her.

Her elastic cunt spread wider than ever it had before, 
the silky flesh of the tube straining to absorb the 
giant girth of the object pushing into it. Thick gobs 
of grease and girl juice eased the way as the huge cock 
pushed deeper, a full three inches inside her now and 
spreading her cunt wide, splitting her cheeks and body.

Lunga threw his hips forward and the girl screamed in 
pain as three more inches jammed into her small belly. 
She was even tighter than Mbinga had said. He swatted, 
not with the effort but with the tremendous pressure 
being exerted on the front of his manhood.

He pulled back an inch, then thrust forward, jamming 
three more inches into her belly. He grumbled, the 
sound like a lion, then drew back two more inches. He 
lunged forward, his bloated organ stabbing in several 
more inches.

Kristen trembled in shock, sure she was being killed. 
Her entire lower body felt grossly swollen around some 
massive log that had been forced up into her. She 
hugged the log, her fingers White as she felt the log 
press even deeper inside her.

She felt its end crushing up against her cervix with 
tremendous force. Her belly ached and screamed, cramps 
rolling through it as her organs were forced apart. 
Even her pubic bones were slowly forced wider, as if 
she were in childbirth.

Still the pressure continued as more and more of the 
log was fed into her overstuffed fuck tunnel. She 
gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, waiting for the 
feeling of blood gushing from her crotch.

Then the thing jammed even deeper, seeming to push 
right up into her stomach. She almost threw up, gagging 
as the thing forced its way up the length of her body. 
She wondered, dazedly, if it would actually go up 
through her chest and into her brain.

But it moved no further. It held within her, unmoving. 
She trembled around it, and felt it throb within her 
body. She wondered what kind of a log or weapon they 
had used that it should seem to breathe with a life of 
its own.

Lunga rubbed his hands over the woman's widely parted 
buttocks. At last, the entire length of his manhood 
laid within her. His fat, heavy balls, the size of 
tennis balls, hung low beneath his crotch, resting 
against the side of the log as his manhood shaft laid 
enfolded in the fiery heat and crushing embrace of this 
White girl's love tunnel.

He waited patiently, knowing he must. Churla had been 
only thirteen when he'd first taken her, and no bigger 
than this. Ghumne had been the same age. He knew that 
the woman beneath him was older than they had been, 
though not quite as large as them at their first use.

He slowly pulled his manhood back, retreating only a 
few inches for fear that the entire tunnel would 
collapse behind him. He pushed forward again, then 
retreated. Slowly he built up his speed as her muscles 
surrendered beneath his immensity.

Certain now, that the girl would survive Lunga's 
lovemaking, Churla and Ghumne left the hut to begin 
making the afternoon meal. Lunga humped faster and 
faster into the girl's love hole, his hands now moving 
more freely across her wonderfully soft skin.

Kristen could hardly believe she was still alive. The 
thing that had pushed into her cunt was now moving in 
and out, fucking her like a cock. Wearily, she pulled 
her head up and turned around to gaze behind her. There 
was a giant behind her and he actually was fucking her.

She stared with disbelief at the size of his massive 
prick as it moved in and out of her body. She could 
hardly believe her cunt had managed to absorb something 
that size without splitting wide open. There was no 
sign of blood, though his cock was completely Black and 
would have made that difficult to spot.

Weakly, her head fell back and she groaned as the giant 
fucking her picked up the pace. His enormous cock was 
thudding down into the end of her cunt-pit with 
tremendous force, causing her pain. It felt like there 
was a fist repeatedly punching her deep inside her 
body.

Her cunt tunnel, so widely stretched, felt like it was 
being rasped by sandpaper as the fat fuck-stick drove 
in and out. Every hair on Lunga's shaft cut along the 
super taut skin of her rubber cunt tunnel. The pain 
however, began to ease, partly because her cunt had 
somewhat adjusted, but mostly because her muscles had 
given up and were no longer functioning.

She felt the repeated impact, not just of the giant's 
cock tip against her cervix, but of his heavy belly and 
hips against her ass and thighs. The impact was hard 
enough to bruise her painfully, but there was nothing 
she could do to stop it. In fact, the power of his 
thrusting grew.

Now though, without the agony she had first 
experienced, her body's previous sexual arousal began 
to reassert itself. Her clitty was being buzzed 
furiously by the thickness of the cock driving over it, 
her cunt was being ploughed, skewered.

Her belly, already cramping and fluttering with the 
deep and thick penetration, resumed its sensuous dance 
as her already dazed mind suffered under new assaults 
of feverish need. Her body shook, trembled. Already it 
was jerking and humping as the giant cock threw it 
forward and pulled it back, but it increased its 
movement.

Then a minor orgasm swept through her, leaving her 
breathless. Rather than calm her body down it merely 
stoked the fires higher. She was burning up with sexual 
fever, her body bubbling and boiling as her nerve 
endings twisted and quivered.

A second orgasm hit her, wrenching her reality and 
making her cry out at its sudden shocking force. Her 
body shook and trembled, and her ass actually pushed 
back against the monster prong fucking her. Again, she 
clutched the log, now holding it as a child caught in a 
whirlwind, seeking an anchor to reality.

Her body convulsed and she howled in torment and 
delight. A fireball of sexual ecstasy exploded in her 
lower belly, sending hot steaming streamers shooting 
out into her body. She was being royally fucked, and in 
the dim recesses of her mind knew it.

The giant's fingers hauled her upwards, lifting her off 
the log and carrying her across the floor to a bed of 
straw. She was dropped back down onto her knees again, 
and the reaming continued, with even more force. Now 
the huge fingers, which totally encircled her belly, 
hauled her back against the fuck-pole rutting her.

Her body was jerked back and forth like a rag doll, her 
head flying up and down with the sudden changes in 
direction, her breasts whipping back and forth. Spit 
drooled out of her gaping mouth as she stared at multi 
colored lights bursting before her eyes.

She came again, her entire body seared by a super-nova, 
blasting through her. Sexual electricity ripped up and 
down her spine, causing muscle convulsions. Her back 
arched, then began to bounce up and down wildly.

Something huge and hard and heavy was slamming into her 
buttocks with terrible force, but the feeling was 
hardly noticeable beneath the impaling power of the 
mighty cock within her. Giant fingers like sausages 
whipped around her breasts then squeezed them with an 
awful force, making her screech in response.

Her chest exploded with agony and ecstasy, her breasts 
burning and throbbing and rippling with sexual 
electricity. Fat fingers caught her nipples and twisted 
them, pulled them downwards, distorting her breasts. 
The nipples were stretched out a full two inches from 
her tits, almost touching the ground beneath her.

Then she came again, the top of her head blowing off as 
her body flailed and writhed and danced in madness. Her 
head lashed from side to side and her entire nervous 
system screamed and flared out. Then, just before she 
lost consciousness, she felt an immense flood of 
liquids gushing into her belly. She knew it was her 
blood and that she had just died, but she died happily.

Lunga felt his seed shooting into the White girl in 
great fat heaping wads of shiny white potency. Her body 
collapsed after a final wailing shriek as he emptied 
himself into her. He gave a satisfied sigh, and pulled 
his fingers from around her waist.

Her arms collapsed, dropping her head and chest down 
onto the ground. Her knees slipped apart and her ass 
slowly sank down, her cunt sliding over his softening 
cock before finally pulling free and dropping her flat 
on the dirt. Thick gobs of White sperm dribbled out of 
the still open love hole, but Lunga knew enough had 
been pumped into her to do the job.

***

Joe giggled weakly as the sound of the distant 
explosion echoed through the jungle. He'd started 
laying false trails hours ago, finally creating enough 
of a gap between him and his pursuers to plant the thin 
wire, then double far back, climb a tree and climb and 
jump from branch to branch through the densely packed 
growth for a hundred yards.

The explosion signaled the Pounta had found the end of 
his trail miles distant and heading in the opposite 
direction. Now, unless he hit bad luck, he was safe, at 
least from that group. He rested his weary frame for a 
half hour, then rose and began making his way back 
north.

By darkness he'd recovered most of the ground he'd lost 
during the morning's pursuit. He slept in a tree, then 
continued at dawn, leaving that particular tribe's 
boundary a few hours later. He reached the first of the 
Bantu villages, and after a nervous few minutes, was 
welcomed generously enough.

He had lunch with the village chieftain, who professed 
no knowledge about a White skinned female in this area 
and looked at Joe like he was crazy when the White 
guide tried to explain what the color pink was.

Joe managed to gain a guide further north, to the 
Clantae village a dozen miles away, reaching there by 
nightfall. The girl wasn't there either, much to his 
disgust and weariness. He decided to camp there for the 
night.

Around the fire, he told the chief of his trouble with 
the Pounta and how he'd escaped them. The chief and his 
warriors howled with laughter as he described the 
Pounta being blown up by his explosive booby traps. The 
chief called him "Loitiiea," which meant roughly, 
tiger-man, and presented him with one of his daughters 
for the night.

The girl, a young thing who's body still bore the 
slimness of girlhood, but also the wide hips and 
rounded breasts of womanhood, giggled at the sight of 
his reddened prick. Her body was a gleaming, shiny 
Black in the dim light as he slowly caressed her body.

Her small brown nipples tasted of smoky meat as he 
suckled gently. His tongue slid downward along her 
belly and then in between her legs. She allowed him to 
part her thighs, glancing in astonishment as his tongue 
began to move up and down her slit.

He slid a finger inside her, and began to pump it in 
and out as his tongue found and began to slid back and 
forth across her clit. She was extremely curious as 
well as wary, but relaxed completely when the pleasure 
began to course through her body.

She whimpered, murmuring in wonderment as her body 
steamed with sexual heat. The Bantu were hardly the 
world's greatest lovers. The men simply drove it in and 
humped for a couple of minutes until they came. Orgasm 
was not totally unknown among women, but seldom 
happened in actual sex. As for masturbation, it was 
technically forbidden to women, though the older ones 
all did it from time to time. This girl, though, seemed 
not to have. Her eyes were wide with excitement and 
bewildered pleasure as Joe's tongue whipped back and 
forth across her clit.

Then her back arched. "Oooooooooohhhhhhh!" she gasped, 
pushing her small cunt up against his face. His fingers 
slid in and out of the little pink slit as his tongue 
writhed against her.

When she stopped shaking, he climbed up the length of 
her body and drove his cock into her tight pink hole. 
She threw her arms around him and kissed him, their 
lips meeting wetly and forcefully. His hands went under 
her ass and jerked her up against him as he began to 
pump into her with excited speed.

Then he came, his cock spewing out his jism as she 
writhed in pleasure under him. He sucked hard on her 
nipples, his hands fondling her ass as he humped 
continuously into her pink hole.

***

Kristen was awakened by Lunga's wives, who slapped her 
face and tossed water on her to bring her to 
consciousness. Churla rubbed her hand against Kristen's 
cunt gently, smiling in sympathy and saying something 
Kristen couldn't understand.

They helped the teenager to her feet and walked her 
outside into the sun, sitting her down on the ground as 
they sat on low stools beside her. They began sewing 
hides together, making a skirt for someone. Kristen 
tried to sit, but couldn't do it comfortably. Her 
behind and cunt hurt too much when she put pressure on 
them.

One of the women said something to the other, and they 
both looked at Kristen and laughed. She flushed in 
embarrassment. Then one of them got up and picked up a 
basket of some dirty clothing and pulled on Kristen's 
arm.

Naked, she followed the woman down the path to the 
stream, where the woman dumped the basket, then picked 
up a sarong. She brought it over to a rock and dumped 
it into the water, then started rubbing it on the rock. 
She motioned to Kristen, who stood beside her watching.

Then she moved away and pushed Kristen towards the 
thing, obviously wanting her to do it. She sighed and 
began rubbing the thing against the rock as the woman 
stood by and watched in satisfaction. The woman 
produced another wad of leafy gooey stuff, like the 
women had used to clean Kristen earlier.

She rubbed it against the cloth and signaled Kristen to 
keep rubbing it as she watched. There were several 
other rocks and the other woman began to clean clothes 
on one, as Kristen cleaned them on the other.

After about an hour, she found herself wondering why 
these people didn't get a washing machine, then smiled 
at her own foolishness. The fat woman saw her smile and 
smiled back, saying something happily.

Kristen followed her back into the camp, looking around 
more carefully than she had before. She noted that 
there were several nude people in the camp besides 
herself. Most were women, but a couple were men. She 
guessed that these too were prisoners of some sort.

In fact, they were slaves, as she was. But the word 
slave simply didn't enter her mind. She thought of 
herself as a prisoner, that was all. The fat women 
taught her how to pound meet with a rock, for what 
purpose she didn't know, and had her stirring a deep 
smelly pot of something.

After that, she began to sweep out the hut with a rough 
broom thing, then carried in fresh straw from a pile 
under a lean-to. The giant man came into the hut just 
then. He pushed her down onto her knees and knelt 
behind her.

Kristen whined in anxious worry and tensed up. He 
pulled her legs apart and then slowly forced his huge 
organ into her body again, pounding furiously against 
her until she cried out and collapsed with exhaustion. 
When he'd poured a load of hot cum into her, he left.

She was given more clothing to wash, then a small bowl 
of goop to eat for lunch, after which she had to follow 
a girl of about ten to a small pasture where there were 
goats. The girl showed her how to milk the goats, and 
despite her revulsion, Kristen had had to sit down and 
begin to fondle the thing's teats, sending milk 
shooting into a wood barrel.

By dinner, she was exhausted. She had to keep working 
though, as the two fat women, their numerous children 
and the giant man who'd raped her, all ate.

When they had finished, she was given a bowl of the 
same sludge she'd eaten before, along with a bowl 
containing the scraps from their own meal. She looked 
at it in surprise and disgust, but she was ravenous 
after working all day and had no choice but to eat the 
partly burned, partly undercooked, cold meat. In fact, 
she wolfed it down quickly. Mildly surprised that she 
could even force it into her mouth.

Shortly after that, one of the fat ladies led her 
across the village to a small hut. This one was much 
more strongly built than others, and had a door of 
sorts, made of strong young tree branches lashed 
together. She was pushed inside and the thing closed 
behind her.

Churla pushed the bolt into place across the slave 
shack and gave a sigh of relief. Now she could go back 
to her hut and get some sleep. She glanced behind her 
as she walked away, hoping the White girl would be all 
right in there.

Normally, slave women slept in their owner's hut. Only 
slave men were kept in the strongly locked little 
shack. However, out of kindness for her body's needs, 
they had put her in with the two slave men. She had 
only been taken twice during the day and they worried 
that was not enough.

Lunga's huge girth could not be used by her always 
though. After all, Churla and Ghumne needed its use as 
well. From Mbinga's description, the girl needed to be 
used many times, and Churla was confident the slave men 
would see to her.


Chapter 5
---------

Joe bid farewell to the Claintu village and headed east 
towards the Minra clan village thirty kilometers away. 
Again, he was accompanied by a guide, a thin, grinning 
teenager who moved along far to cockily for Joe's 
comfort.

Close to the village, okay, but after half a dozen 
kilometers he began to worry if the boy might be 
showing off in a rather dangerous way. He had to 
continuously shush the boy as he insisted on talking in 
overly loud whispers.

It was more in resignation, then in surprise then, that 
he saw a blur next to him and then watched a spear pin 
the boy to a tree. The boy was looking at it in 
astonishment as several more spears chunked into the 
ground and bush around him.

Joe dove behind another tree, then edged around towards 
were the spears were coming from. There was no sign of 
movement and no sound from whoever had fired the arrow. 
He knew the general direction and that was all. Then 
the bushes suddenly jerked apart and a dozen screaming 
Pounta warriors raced forward.

Joe brought the Uzi up and sprayed bullets towards 
them, felling several, then he swung the butt around to 
knock aside a stabbing spear, kicking the man in the 
crotch and shooting two others as they approached from 
the other side.

He shot the first warrior then, jumping atop a low hill 
and firing wildly behind him. Half a dozen feet away 
another warrior slammed his spear deep into the Bantu 
boy's belly.

Joe raced through the bush, reloading as he dodged 
spears. He kept spraying the gun behind him as he ran, 
forcing the pursuing warriors to dive to cover. Then a 
long flying spear caught him in the side, bowling him 
over.

The surge of adrenaline he was riding allowed him to 
jerk it out, almost screaming as blood welled from the 
wound. He tore a spare shirt from his pack and wadded 
it up, pressing it against the hole, then getting up 
and staggering off.

Most of the warriors were dead behind him, and he shot 
two more who wouldn't quit before he left the last of 
them behind. He managed to stop finally, and pull 
bandages and disinfectants from his pack, carefully 
bandaging the wound before falling unconscious.

***

Kristen couldn't see anything in the darkened hut, but 
then she heard, and sensed movement. She was standing 
with her back against the door and she pushed against 
it worriedly. It failed to budge. There was some light 
in the hut from barred windows high up, but there was 
nothing to see.

Then something moved into a section of light. She 
heaved a sigh of relief. It was only a man. Two men, 
she corrected herself. Both tall and Black, and looking 
at her with astonishment on their faces. One of them 
said something to the other.

Kristen was surprised at the words, for she thought 
she'd come to recognize the sing-song language of the 
people who'd captured her and this was different. The 
men moved closer, and she saw that they were naked. 
They must be prisoners like her, of course, she chided 
herself.

"Who are you?" she asked, hoping they would speak 
English. They looked back blankly. "My name is 
Kristen." She patted her chest. "Kristen."

"What does she say?" Craw asked.

"I do not speak her language," Sno replied.

"Why is she here?"

"Why would I know."

"It has been long since I have had a woman."

"You may never have another if her master catches you."

"Why would they put her in here if not as a reward to 
us?"

"I do not know all the ways of the Bantu. Perhaps it is 
a test."

"If so, I intend to pass it," Craw said, a long smile 
appearing on his face as his eyes slid up and down the 
light skinned female standing before him.

"They may kill you."

"I am tired of this anyway. At least my member will 
enjoy itself before I die." He reached for the female 
and drew her in close to him, his hands running up and 
down her body. Her skin was amazingly soft.

"I have never taken a White woman before," he breathed.

Kristen had no idea what the two were talking about. It 
was plain what the first one wanted however, when his 
hand began to caress her breasts. She stood 
acquiescently as his hands roamed her lithe body, 
sliding down between her legs to cup her pubic mound 
firmly.

The man looked at her, as if wondering what she would 
do. Kristen looked back blankly. She had no idea of the 
low status these men held, and was afraid to resist in 
any way. What was the point, anyway?

The man pushed her down on her back on a pile of straw 
and lay down on top of her. She spread her legs 
resignedly and felt his hardness press against her 
belly. His mouth slurped around her right nipple and 
his teeth chewed lightly. She winced, for his teeth 
were odd and sharp.

Then she grunted a she felt his cock pushed into her 
pussy hole. Her sore pussy lips spread and his member 
pushed into her. Her cunt adjusted quickly, despite her 
lack of sexual excitement. Perhaps the long fat cock of 
the giant had loosened her cunt forever.

She grunted in disgust as the man's mouth came down on 
hers, his lips rubbing forcefully, and his tongue 
sliding into her own mouth. His hands were all over 
her, like mad, uncontrolled animals, they were fast and 
rough as they moved from place to place, squeezing and 
fondling her.

His hands slid under her then, cupping her ass cheeks 
as he began to stroke into her. Like most of the 
natives she'd been raped by, he had not a trace of 
expertise, at least as she'd come to know it. There was 
no gentleness in his fucking, instead it was a harsh, 
fast, brutal fucking.

He humped furiously into her, his cock slicing in and 
out of her pained body. His hips smashed down into 
hers, his pubic bone cracking against her crotch and 
lower belly as he rutted against her. She felt the 
speed of his cock burning up her cunt, sending pain 
shooting into her belly, but knew she could do nothing 
about it.

His breathing became faster and faster as his 
excitement mounted. His cock pumped brutally, his body 
hammering down into the slim White girl. Kristen's ass 
was bouncing up and down on the ground, in the grip of 
the man's iron fingers.

He jerked her groin up to meet his brutal downward 
thrusts, sending his cock shooting down her fuck tunnel 
with powerful force. He began grunting with the effort 
as he humped against her. The tiny shack resounded with 
his gasps and grunts, and the wet slapping sound of his 
body coming against hers.

His cock pistoned back and forth inside Kristen with 
incredible speed, and her body was hammered repeatedly 
by the brutal pounding of his groin into her thighs and 
crotch. His lips were bruisingly demanding as they 
roved hungrily against hers.

They moved all along her throat, stopping every few 
inches. Wherever they stopped his sharply pointed teeth 
came out and nipped her tender flesh repeatedly. He 
gripped her twin mammary mounds and squeezed them up 
and together, then rubbed his face back and forth 
across them.

His hands seized her head firmly and pressed his lips 
against hers, his tongue wriggling around in her mouth 
as his breath was forced into her and then sucked back 
out. He ground his hips into her, his prong buried deep 
in her silky fuck-tunnel.

Kristen moaned, her body becoming aroused despite her 
unhappiness. All her resistance to fucking had been 
broken down in the past days. She was no longer 
embarrassed or even bothered much by strange men taking 
her without her leave and consent.

Her body, without the resistance of her mind, responded 
as a woman's body will, her clit, repeatedly hammered, 
rubbed and sawed by the man's cock and belly, send hot 
quivering blasts of sexual bliss through her belly.

Her pussy, stuffed and pumped, sent its own steamy 
message of enjoyment. Her breasts, sucked, man-handled, 
squeezed and kneaded, their small pink nipples chewed 
and bothered, became hot and swollen with sexual heat, 
the nipples hard and erect.

Tentatively, at first, she began to respond, to push 
back against his pounding fuck-tool. Her heels ground 
into the dirt, pushing against it as if to lift herself 
upward onto that plunging organ. She drew her heels up, 
then raised her legs into the air in short little 
bounces.

As the hard, savage fucking continued, she brought her 
legs up around the tribesman, hugging him to her as she 
opened her crotch to even deeper penetration. Her moans 
were added to his grunts as the steely cock continued 
its' rasping pump.

She whimpered in ecstasy as she felt his cock-tip high 
in her belly, and ground herself harder on it. His 
hands came down around her ass cheeks, pulling her even 
tighter against his crotch as his excitement became 
uncontrollable.

He pounded his cock down her slimy wet cunt tunnel his 
body sweating and gleaming in the moonlight coming from 
the window. Her fingers dug into his back, clawing at 
him as she began to cum. Then she threw back her head, 
her mouth opening in a silent gasp of delight.

Her head thrashed from side to side and her body jerked 
and shivered as an orgasm washed over her. All 
awareness disappeared as her cunt flared and exploded 
around the humping, pistoning organ within it. Then it 
pulled and sucked ferociously on the moving cock and 
long wet wads of sperm gushed forth.

"She gave you a good ride!" Sno said, appreciatively. 
"Let me use her now."

"There is much time," Craw groaned, laying flat atop an 
unmoving Kristen. He gave a final gasp, letting out a 
great breath of air, then rolled off the girl. Sno 
quickly took his place.

Kristen felt another cock pushed into her cunt. She lay 
in a daze, half conscious. Her eyes were closed as the 
second man settled atop her and began to pump. She 
didn't move, lying spread-eagled on the straw covered 
ground as he eagerly humped her.

She slowly opened her eyes, watching the man's 
straining face as he humped down into her crotch-hole. 
She could feel his cock working its way back and forth 
and could feel it was thicker, though shorter than the 
first man's.

She lay there, tiredly enjoying the second fuck, her 
cunt relaxing also at first. His mouth came against 
hers and she kissed him back, lightly. His hands 
squeezed her breasts, then his mouth lowered onto her 
right nipple and bit sharply. She moaned at the sudden 
sharp pain.

A small drop of dark appeared on the nipple, outlined 
in the shaft of moonlight, and the man's mouth closed 
around it, sucking fiercely. Kristen felt him sucking 
on her blood and wondered if he was some kind of 
cannibal. Somehow the idea excited her.

Or perhaps it was the steady sucking and chewing on her 
outraged nipple, or the furious rutting cock within her 
fuck-box. Her body began to steam with sexual heat once 
more and her crotch slowly began its up and down dance 
against the stranger's fucking.

She felt her frame seized in the carnal embrace of 
sexual arousal, and once more gave herself over to its 
embrace.

By morning, Kristen was an utterly exhausted wreck. For 
Sno and Craw had been without a woman for more than two 
years. They took her over and over and over again, 
seemingly tireless, and her body responded each time. 
She lost track of the orgasms that had racked her, of 
the gut wrenching spasms that had torn her belly open, 
and the groaning gasps of pleasure she had uttered.

Unfortunately, she was hardly permitted an hour's 
sleep, when the fat woman came for her. She was brought 
back to the same hut as yesterday, given a little 
gruel, and then placed on her knees as the giant took 
her again. His huge organ had pounded into her 
relentlessly, finally sending her into a shrieking 
orgasm that dropped her unconscious to the hut floor.

She had been wakened and set to cleaning the hut, then 
the surrounding area. After that, many other tasks 
awaited her, from gutting fish, to drying meat and 
hides. Nor were the Bantu inconsiderate enough as to 
let her go without rutting.

Though the slaves were busy in the daytime, Lunga had 
considerately offered her favors to his friends. Every 
hour or so, one would show up and either push Kristen 
to her knees where she stood, or pull her into his hut, 
or just into some bushes. Then he would enter her body 
and fuck her furiously.

By nightfall, she was barely able to walk, and 
practically fell onto the straw after the fat woman 
placed her in the shack again. The two slaves were 
waiting for her, though, their lust hardly sated at all 
by the previous night's work.

Again they took her repeatedly, one after the other, 
only tiring towards dawn, for they had heavy work to do 
in the day. Kristen's fuck tunnel was more heavily used 
than a forty-second street hooker's, and was beginning 
to chafe and bleed from overuse.

Her eyes were dull, exhausted slits, and her body 
became whiter than ever as she slouched and slumped her 
way through her daily tasks. She fell asleep while 
milking the goats and was slapped awake by the annoyed 
boy tending her.

***

Joe woke up in the night. He felt better, the pain 
still there, but diminished considerably. He didn't 
move at first, taking in his surroundings. He was lucky 
some animal hadn't come upon him in the night and 
started eating, he thought grimly.

Slowly, he sat up, then staggered erect. His head swam, 
but he held still and the dizziness passed. Money ain't 
worth this, he thought, miserably. He sat back down 
again, then unwrapped his arm and looked at it. It 
didn't look too bad. Didn't seem infected or anything.

He carefully rewrapped it in fresh bandages and then 
ate some dried food from his pack. It was nourishing if 
tasteless and he felt considerably strengthened. Now 
where the fuck am I, he wondered, bleakly.

He tried to replay the events of today, especially 
concerning the direction he'd run. He couldn't be that 
far from the village, a few klicks at best. He could 
probably make it back by morning. How they would 
receive him, considering the boy who'd gone with him 
was dead, he wasn't sure and didn't intend to risk it.

He knew the general direction of the next Bantu 
village, and now was probably a good time to head for 
it. By dawn, the Pounta would be on his trail, and he 
was in no condition to be running. He slid his pack 
over his shoulder and set off slowly.

Luckily there was a full moon out. Still, he kept 
careful watch on the ground as he moved, and still 
managed to trip a number of times. He wasn't making 
much progress, so concentrated instead on obliterating 
all trace of himself.

After several hours, he was exhausted. He found a tree 
and climbed upward, then settled in for a nap as the 
sky began to light around him.

His watch alarm woke him several hours later. He felt 
stiff and sore, as he always did when sleeping like 
this. His arm felt sore, but no worse than before, 
which hopefully meant it wasn't going to start turning 
yellow and green.

He lowered himself to the ground and set off again, 
this time making better time. He encountered no signs 
of the Pounta, and by mid day was approaching the Bantu 
village. A mile from its outskirts he was challenged by 
a sentry and yelled back a greeting in Bantu.

Twenty minutes later he was standing before the chief, 
who, like the previous one, wanted to know all about 
his adventures with the Pounta. He sighed quietly 
realizing the necessity of the tail. It would only 
serve to ingratiate him with the Bantu if he told them 
of all the Pounta he'd killed.

Finally, he was able to get to the point and ask about 
Kristen.

"No. No White girls here. I have not seen a White woman 
since..." the chief thought carefully. "Not for many 
years anyhow." He finished, lamely.

"None of your people have heard of a White girl being 
taken by neighboring villages?" he asked, wearily.

The chief shrugged, then called out the question to 
those surrounding them. There was a chorus of negative 
responses, then one man, who had been out hunting, 
trotted into the village with his catch of snakes and 
overheard.

"You wish to know of a White woman with the Bantu?" he 
asked.

"You know something?" Joe asked, eagerly.

The man looked at the chief, who shrugged.

"There is a White woman at Retewq," he said.

"For how long?"

"Not long. A few days. She is very sweet to look upon, 
though skinny. Her hair is an odd shade."

"That sounds like her!" Joe gasped.

"Is she one of yours? She has a strange appetite."

"Strange?"

"They say she must receive a man's organ very often or 
else she suffers pain."

"Huh?"

"That is what they say," the man shrugged.

"Where is Retewq?"

"Not far. Only a half day's journey north."

"You can not set out now. You would arrive after dark 
and be shot by the sentries," the chief said. Joe 
looked at his watch and realized that was the truth.

"You stay with us the night. I have two lovely 
daughters to offer you," the Chief beamed, throwing his 
arms around the giggling young women as they looked 
shyly at Joe.

"Well now. That's right kind of you, Chief," Joe 
grinned.

He stayed with the girls that night, surprising himself 
by taking both twice. Like most of the African girls' 
he'd had, they were astonished at his foreplay, and 
would probably be more than a little displeased with 
their next lovers.

After a hard day's march, he arrived at the environs of 
Retewq. As at the previous village, he was challenged 
and then welcomed into the village. He trotted in 
behind the young sentry, wading through a small stream 
and then climbing a low hill at the edge of a clearing.

He stopped suddenly, attracted by something moving only 
a few feet away. His eyes opened wide as he peered 
around a bush. There she was! Kristen was on her hands 
and knees, her legs apart and a look of satisfaction on 
her face. A dark skinned Bantu warrior knelt behind her 
his cock plunging back and forth in her cunt.

The man felt Joe's eyes on him and looked up. He smiled 
and waved. "She will be free for your use in a few 
moments, Stranger, should you want her."

"Uh, thank you," Joe stammered, watching the man, 
matter-of-factly return to his fucking. Kristen didn't 
even look up. Her eyes were closed and her jaw hung 
low. Her fat breasts were swinging back and forth 
beneath her as she humped her ass back against the 
man's plunging cock-strokes.

"This way, Joe-boss," his young guide gestured. Joe 
took a last look at the odd scene and followed him up 
the path to the village. A short time later he was 
explaining his journey again to the local chief, 
stressing the many Pounta he'd killed to reach here.

In the midst of the explanation, Kristen walked past, 
naked, her arms laden with hides. She didn't notice him 
again, her shoulders slumped and her eyes on the 
ground.

"We did think it strange, she was out on her own," the 
Chief admitted, glaring at Mbinga.

"I was very close by, Chief. If your man hadn't been on 
a swift river, I'd have caught up long since."

"Still, the matter is out of my hands," the Chief 
shrugged. "You may kill Mbinga for stealing the woman, 
but she has been properly sold to Lunga, who bought her 
not knowing of any prior ownership. If you want her 
back, you will have to buy her from Lunga or kill him."

Joe looked at the one called Lunga without a great deal 
of encouragement. The guy was huge!

"I'm sure we can work something out," he said.

"That is between the two of you. For now, you are an 
honored guest." He gestured at the woman and food was 
brought. Joe sat down, knowing he had to observe the 
amenities first.

He ate gladly, sick of dried food. During the meal 
which Lunga shared, Kristen came out from a hut and 
Lunga called to her. He had her serve him, looking at 
Joe challengingly, then slapped her on the behind, 
setting her cheeks jiggling as she moved on some 
errand.

After dinner, she moved quickly to Lunga, who nodded 
and tuned, gesturing to his hut. Joe followed him 
across the village until the big man sat down on a 
rough stool in front of the hut. Joe sat down next to 
him as one of the man's wives brought water.

They both sipped the water, a nominal welcome to his 
home, then Joe settled down to business.

"I hope this skinny, weak woman has not been a burden 
on you, Lunga," he said.

"No. No burden at all. I have enjoyed her love-tunnel 
enormously. It is very tight and friendly."

"Yes. That is true. Still, she can surely not compare 
to your wives."

Since his wives were standing behind him, Lunga could 
hardly disagree.

"Being as weak as she is, she will not long survive in 
Retewq."

Lunga frowned and one of his wives prodded him with her 
fingers.

"See. I told you."

"Shut up, woman."

"She is, as you can tell, of little real use in 
chores," Joe said, playing to the women. "She knows 
nothing about cooking or cleaning or any of the womanly 
duties."

"She gives a man a long hard ride," Lunga growled.

"This is a woman's first duty."

"True. True. Still, in a very few days she will waste 
away until she sickens and then dies. Then all your 
money will be gone and you will have nothing to show 
for it."

"Why do you want her if she is so sickly?" Lunga 
demanded.

"Well, I will take her back to her people, where she 
will not sicken. There she will be happy and healthy 
once more."

"Woman. Come here." Lunga called into the hut. Kristen 
emerged a moment later and Lunga pulled her down to her 
knees beside him. His hands stroked her head, as if 
petting a dog, then cupped her breasts and squeezed 
them.

"And how much will you give me for this worthless 
woman?" he asked.

"I hear from Mbinga that you paid two goats for her," 
Joe said. Lunga frowned and glared across the village 
towards the man.

"This is true," he admitted.

"I do not have any animals with me, of course," Joe 
said. "But I do have the government paper that you can 
exchange for livestock with others."

Lunga nodded. He knew about money. Some of the 
villagers had been to the city, or to the farming towns 
not far south of the river.

"And how much of this paper will you give me?" he 
asked, stroking Kristen's breasts and belly.

"I will give you enough to purchase three goats," Joe 
said.

"Three goats. That is a lot for one skinny woman."

"Yes, I know. But I can see that Lunga is a great 
warrior, and he deserves a high price."

"My women have spent many hours training this female in 
woman's duties. That is now wasted," Lunga observed.

"Ahh, but three goats. Think of what you may trade for 
that."

"Not as much as four goats."

"Four goats! That is too high a price for this one."

"Not for a man who has come so far and been to so many 
villages in search of her," Lunga observed shrewdly.

"You are a very smart man, Lunga," Joe sighed. "I will 
have to see if I have enough money." He pulled out his 
wallet and carefully counted the money in there, 
knowing how much he had but putting on a show. Finally 
he sighed and looked up glumly.

"You take the very food from my mouth, Lunga," he 
protested.

"Ahh, but such fine skin and soft flesh is worth it." 
Lunga smiled, sliding his hand down between Kristen's 
legs and squeezing her crotch. They had been talking in 
Bantu, of course. Kristen had never even looked at him 
during the conversation, her dull eyes staring at the 
ground.

Now she groaned low in her throat and arched her back, 
pushing her crotch forward. Joe watched in disbelief as 
she rubbed her pussy back and forth across Lunga's 
motionless hand, her eyes closed.

"See how much she wants my manhood?" Lunga's teeth 
gleamed. "Never have I met a woman like her. In truth, 
it is proving time consuming to satisfy her. She gets 
little done since she is always on her knees."

"Then we have a deal?"

Lunga looked regretfully at Kristen, who was still 
humping against his hand in slow, grinding movements, 
her head rolling around weakly.

"I will miss the tightness of her love hole." He 
sighed. "But we have a deal." He spit on his hand and 
held it out. Joe did the same and they shook hands.


Chapter 6
--------

Joe handed the money over to Lunga, who gave Kristen's 
crotch a final squeeze, then took his hand away.

"She is yours." he said, eyeing the money dubiously. He 
knew what it could bring, but didn't really like the 
stuff. He looked back at Kristen, who was still humping 
slightly, her own hands coming down to her crotch.

"She is in need again." he observed. "I do not envy you 
having to return with her on your own. Perhaps I shoul