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 beg- ging had managed to sway them.

Thus she was now standing on the runway in a baking heat, watching her father wave forlornly at bag- gage handlers who zipped by as if he were invisible. It was little wonder, what with the enormous amount of lug- gage 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 her- self 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 it's 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 opera- tions for. Not an ounce of fat, not a hint of imper- fection 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 nar- row 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 won- drously 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 en- vious stares and gasps wherever she went, and contri- buted 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 con- fusion 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 tran- sitory. Everywhere she went she was granted boons favors and generosity. At home, her slightest wish was her parents 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 in- doors 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 drivers 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 pas- sengers 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 de- manded 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-condition- ing 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 stamp- ed 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 un- til 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 de- manded. 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 re- lief. 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 com- plaints, 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 por- table 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 pound- ing 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. Be- sides, 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 conversa- tion, 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 dis- liked 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, point- ing at the shower.

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

"Fix it." She said, pronouncing each word careful- ly 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 mov- ing 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. No- body, but nobody had ever talked to her like this before.

"I... 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 Goddam bathtubs and God- dam CD player and your Goddam pink hair! What kind of a crazy wears pink hair anyway!?

"It... 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 titties 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 call- ing 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.

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 con- fusion 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 grip- ped 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 with- in 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 nip- ple, 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 breath- ing 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 be- came 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 go- ing 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 fur- ther 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 but- tocks 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 it's 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 excite- ment 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 be- tween 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, hand- somer, 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 per- sonality. 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 look- ed 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 astonish- ment 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 do- ing 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 it's type, was not waterproof and an inch or so of water was always in the bottom.

Twenty minutes of paddling through the fast cur- rent 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 it's 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 in- dignantly.

"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 under- stand. 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 use- lessly 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 un- blemished 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 it's unre- lenting pressure. It moved inside her body as she jerked against the vines once more, helpless and sob- bing 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, jam- ming 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, some- what 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 him- self 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, preven- ting 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 it's 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 com- paratively 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 rid- den 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.

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.

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. Look- ing 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 in- deed 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 bet- ter 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 pre- cautions as he moved, they would find his trail very soon.

He moved between a pair of tall trees, then stop- ped. 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 be- hind 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 need- ed. 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 vil- lages 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 some- thing. 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, in- stead 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 heap- ing 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 lovehole, 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 it's 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 plea- sure 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 es- cape but couldn't move an inch. Her pussy lips con- tinued 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, jam- ming 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 sev- eral 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 it's 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 it's 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, un- moving. 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 breath with a life of it's 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 pull- ed her head up and turned around to gaze behind her. There was a giant behind her and he actually was fuck- ing her.

She stared with disbelief at the size of his mas- sive 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 ex- perienced, 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 it's 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 it's 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 end- ings twisted and quivered.

A second orgasm hit her, wrenching her reality and making her cry out at it's 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 in- to 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 mad- ness. Her head lashed from side to side and her entire nervous system screamed and flared out. Then, just be- fore 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 soften- ing 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 lay- ing 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 op- posite 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 pro- fessed 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 round- ed 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 bel- ly 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 hap- pened in actual sex. As for masturbation, it was tech- nically 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 bewild- ered 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 con- tinuously into her pink hole.

Kristen was awakened by Lunga's wives, who slapped her face and tossed water on her to bring her to con- sciousness. 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 pro- duced 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 to- gether. 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 it's 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.

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