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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
_________________________________________
WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age
Eighteen, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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Archive name: Africa03.txt (M/F, rp, nc, mc, F/F)
Authors name: Dark Dreamer
Story Title : AFRICAN DRUMS - (3/8)
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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.
----------------(( Kristen's collection ))--------------
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 frus-
tration.
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 par-
ticular 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 protect-
ed. 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 be-
hind. 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 trot-
ted 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 it's resources. No mat-
ter 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 fe-
male.
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 com-
pletely. She fell in and out of consciousness, her body
utterly drained by the day's events.
Then the natives cut across a miles wide grass-
land. 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, peer-
ing 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 pro-
found 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, end-
less 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 com-
rades. 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 ven-
tured.
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 trem-
ble 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 wan-
dered 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... cas-
ually, 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, stop-
ped 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 hunt-
ing 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 pan-
tomime 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, sub-
mersing 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 out-
side 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 some-
thing, 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, hor-
izontal 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 color-
ing, 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 per-
fect and unblemished it was.
Numerous villagers came up next to her and slid
their hands over her body, marveling at it's 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 considerabley 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 foolish-
ness.
"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 be-
cause 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 com-
ments 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 introduc-
tion to it.
<from Kristen's collection> continued in part 4...