Joe knelt and stared at the tracks in front of him. It had taken more than two days to get a motorboat and then find where the Bantu had come out of the river, and now all it showed was that they'd gone back in again soon after. He glared at the tracks in frus- tration.
Actually, the signs told more than just that. The stakes were still in the ground, and part of the vines were still attached. It didn't take a great deal of imagination to guess what had been tied down like that and why.
He let out a cold smile. He kind of wished he'd been there to see it. He was willing to bet the little bitch had gone nuts. He sighed again and walked back to the boat, waving the pilot to start up again. He hadn't brought a lot of men. He knew he wouldn't have to take Kristen back by force.
The Bantu sold their captives and he had more than enough to outbid anyone else for her, at least, anyone among the tribe. The motorboat eased back into the river and then shot forward.
He cursed again, how was he even supposed to find the proper village anyway? There were scores of Bantu villages around here. He just hoped he got her before she was pregnant. If that happened and the Bantu became aware of it they wouldn't part with her until the brat was dropped.
After two more hours on the river, the canoes slowly pulled ashore. There were a number of other canoes there and the natives pulled out all their canoes and rested them alongside the others. None of the vessels belonged to any one village, they were shared by those who happened to want them at a par- ticular time on a first-come-first-served basis.
After overturning the canoes, they set out down a narrow trail that became almost imperceptible after a hundred paces. Kristen was dragged along behind them, still completely naked and her wrists still tied behind her.
Mbinga tied a long vine around her throat and led her behind him exactly as if she were a goat. A goat however, would have been much more sure footed.
Kristen had difficulty almost from the start. The natives set off on a natural pace that ate up the miles rapidly. For her it was almost impossible to keep up. Another problem was her bare feet. The natives had no need of shoes. Their soles were hardened from years of walking.
Kristen kept stepping on rocks and pebbles and sharp twigs. She hopped and whined and cried out in soreness. Mbinga kept tugging on the rope to encourage her onward but she kept falling in pain. Finally the column stopped and Mbinga went back in exasperation to examine her feet.
One examination told him that her feet were like the soft city people. He could not understand this since she hadn't been wearing any footwear when he'd captured her. Nevertheless, he hauled out a long strip of hide and bound it around her right foot, doing the same with the other.
They set off again, her feet now somewhat protect- ed. Still, Kristen kept falling back. She was panting exhausted within a few minutes and dragging back on the vine. Mbinga glared back in irritation, then handed the line to Cowqe.
Cowqe pulled the female on while Mbinga drifted back behind her. He picked up a light stick a foot long from the bush and began smacking it down on her round ass cheeks whenever it looked like she was lagging be- hind. Each whack produced a satisfying burst of speed, as well as a yelp of pain. The stick would not damage her perfect skin, for he knew that would be the main selling point of this girl, that and her tight love hole. The girl fell back again and he whipped the cane across her ass again, making her cry out and run faster.
Kristen would have wept in misery but she had no breath for it. Her chest burned and ached as she trot- ted along behind the natives. Every time she slowed the one behind slashed his hard stick against her behind. She yelped again as the stick descended.
She was getting dizzy and lightheaded as her pain numbed body neared the end of it's resources. No mat- ter what Mbinga did she would have to slow down.
Mbinga slapped at her behind again, then again and again, and again, soon making the entire area red with pain and soreness. The girl kept yelping, yet did not increase speed significantly and then not at all. In fact she was slowing down further. Mbinga growled and whipped her harder.
Kristen gave a final panting gasp and fell forward into the grass. The natives halted and Mbinga came up to stand over her frowning. She would not bring such a good price if she were indeed this weak. He reached down and grabbed her by her long thick hair and jerked her up to her knees, holding her there despite her best efforts to collapse.
"It is no use. We will have to wait for her to rest." He told the others.
"But we have long to go, Mbinga."
"We can not rest this soon, else it will take us days to reach home."
"Then we must carry her." Mbinga shrugged.
"Only if we share in her price."
He frowned angrily, then tugged viciously on the vine, making the sweating girl choke briefly.
"All right then." he agreed, sullenly, all his visions of profits tainted by the weakness of this fe- male.
Niyou and Counta chopped down a tall bamboo and skinned it quickly, as Mbinga and Contaw rebound her wrists and ankles in front of her. The pole, about eight feet long, was then thrust between her arms and legs. Mbinga and Counta took the first shift, lifting her off the ground and setting the pole on their shoulders.
They set out once again, Kristen bouncing beneath the pole, her wrists and ankles burning with pain as her weight hung suspended from them. They ignored her complaints, continuing their unhurried, ground eating pace for long hours.
Kristen gradually lost the feeling in her wrists and ankles and a numbness set in around them. Her head bounced and jerked as she moved through the grasses, her tangled hair sometimes covering her face com- pletely. She fell in and out of consciousness, her body utterly drained by the day's events.
Then the natives cut across a miles wide grass- land. Kristen's body, carried along only a foot or so above the ground, slid through a near continuous wave of tall grasses. They slid like coarse feathers against her upper thighs and buttocks, then downward across her cunt, and down off her as she passed over them.
Her ass felt as if an endless revolving brush was rubbing across her entire nether area. Her cunt, peer- ing out from between her legs, was especially sensitive to the continuous sliding caress of the grasses. It began to tingle at the light massage.
Slowly, with Kristen totally unaware of it, her body became aroused. Her mind, what was left conscious of it, was too caught up in her own misery to even notice. Still, her cunt soon sizzled and burned and itched with need, providing yet another source of pro- found aching in her young body.
The tingling grew greater and greater, the raping caress of the grasses making her ass jerk and tremble instinctively. She needed something, needed relief, needed something more than these light constant, end- less rubbing stalks.
She moaned, then moaned louder. Her delirious body jerked and jumped on the pole. Her eyes fluttered open and closed and she whined in seeming pain. The two natives carrying her stopped, calling to their com- rades. They set her down and peered at her uncertainly, wondering what was the matter.
Mbinga hurried back, glaring down at the woman and beginning to wish he'd never taken her. "What is the matter with her now?" he sighed. They pulled the pole free from her, leaving her on her back. The girl's eyes were closed and she gave no sign of the source of her pain.
"Perhaps the bindings are too tight." Niyou ven- tured.
Then the girl's bound hands slid downward into her crotch. Instantly her behind humped upward against her hands and her fingers pushed into her love hole. The watching men stared in amazement. "What is she doing?" Rayogh wondered.
Mbinga knelt beside her and pulled her hands away, jamming his own between her crotch. Again, she shot her behind upward, arching her back and moaning loudly. His hand came away sopping wet. He held it up to the others with astonishment and happiness. This sign of her heat would definitely increase her price.
"She needs a man's organ in her hole." he said.
"That is a wondrous thing indeed." Ghougumba said, shaking his head.
"Perhaps it is this way with these people." Niyou said. "Perhaps their females need a man's organ every few hours or else are in pain."
"I envy their men." Counta said, causing laughter.
"Well, I will take care of her." Mbinga said.
"I will help if you like." Niyou said.
"I am sure I can sate her fires." Mbinga replied with dignity.
He turned the girl over onto her belly and hauled her up off the ground so she was kneeling on all fours. Her arms promptly gave way and her head and shoulders sank back to the ground. Mbinga knelt behind her and brought his organ out from his loincloth.
He didn't bother to undo her wrists, but cut away the bindings on her ankles and spread her legs apart. Now her knees started to give way. His hands slid around her waist and held her steady for a moment, then, holding her with one arm, he used his other hand to place his organ against her tight and very wet love hole.
He replaced his grip on the female's waist, then thrust forward hard. The girl yowled like a kicked dog. Her head shot up and her back arched and then she shuddered all over. Before the startled Mbinga could move she began rutting furiously back against his organ, humping her ass with a bizarre desperation.
He began to respond in kind, pounding his groin against her behind with eager desire. Her love hole sucked and slurped at his organ more than any he had ever plumbed. He could not withhold his white love juice from her as his body shook and she sucked out all of his seed.
Counta moved in at once and he sheathed his own organ in her spasming love hole. He humped like a mad dog, shooting off inside her in seconds before being replaced by Niyou. He took her with long, hard thrusts that drove her from her knees.
His big hands kept hauling her back up to meet his strokes and all there saw the White female's body trem- ble all over once again as grunts of pleasure came from her pretty lips.
The tribesmen continued to sheath their sabers in the girl long after her body spent itself and knelt, then laid unmoving. Finally, they lifted her on the poles again and carried her a few more miles before camping for the night by a stream.
Joe had finally found where they'd come out of the river, at the communal fishing point for the long neck bands. That was some help but not much. There were over fifty separate villages on that side of the Reboogie river that made use of this spot.
He was forced to wander inland, instantly losing their trail amongst the scores of others that had wan- dered up and down here in the past two days. There was nothing he could do but visit each of the villages and hope that she was in one of the closer ones.
If she wasn't then he was in trouble. The further villages were much more war like. They had to be for they vied with the Pouta tribes in that area. The Pouta tribes were extremely dangerous, especially to White men.
He moved down the trail, accompanied by his three bearers. He knew though, that they'd abandon him if they came close to the Pouta areas. None wished to be eviscerated by the angry tribes of the north.
It was night. The sound of crickets and other night insects filled the air. The tribesmen knew the insects as their friends, their guards through the night. For if ought approached the insects would cease their song to tell them of danger.
They sat quietly around their small fire, speaking in low voices. Some ate quietly, gulping down tough pieces of dried meat. In a corner, Kristen sat, propped against a tree. She was conscious now, though not greatly alert. Her wrists were bound behind the tree and her head lolled forward.
She shivered with cold for the air had chilled with the loss of light. Her dull eyes gazed bleakly around at the savages sprawled about her and she started to wonder not if, but whether she would ever return home. She wept silently, feeling immensely sorry for herself and cursing everyone and everything that had brought her to this place.
Her dreams were filled with big barbarous Black savages and their immense prongs.
The tribesmen woke before dawn and began making preparations for the continued journey. They ate lightly and relieved themselves away from the camp. Kristen was cut loose and placed on her hands and knees, then several of the tribesmen took her... cas- ually, though with pleasure.
Her hands were bound behind her and the vine attached to her throat again. Then they all set out. Kristen's legs ached ferociously, and were unbearably stiff. But under the continued pressure of the rope around her neck, they soon heated and became more limber.
She jogged behind the natives, keeping up at first. After ten or fifteen minutes though, she began falling behind. Mbinga began lashing her behind with a cane which sped her up for a while, but finally she collapsed like the previous day and they were forced to carry her again.
The Bantu were not cruel without reason, and, not wanting to cause the woman any unnecessary pain, stop- ped and took her at regular intervals. They were pleased that this seemed to work so well.
Several hours into their journey the Bantu slowed, becoming more cautious. They removed their bows from around their shoulders and held arrows to them as they moved through the grass. Their voices became mere whispers as they moved along.
Kristen hardly noticed this however as she had become numbed by the long journey and repeated rapes. Every portion of her anatomy ached terribly and her brain reeled with despair.
Early that evening, they finally came into the tribe's territory. The men hailed guards and minutes later, jogged into the brightly lit village. Kristen was set down with the other parcels and packages as the men greeted wives and comrades.
She looked around dully, then became more alert. After two days naked in the company of the small hunt- ing group she'd become accustomed to it. Now though, scores of men women and children crowded around, all chattering gaily and staring at her.
She covered her nudity as best she could, her skin reddening in humiliation. A number of the people were pointing at her and chattering. A small child rushed forward and poked her with a stick before being chased away by Mbinga.
She was carried into a hut and deposited on the dirt floor. There she waited in the dark for some time before a native woman, a fat thing with huge hanging breasts and a kind of skirt around her waist, came in and shoved a bowl of some unidentifiable substance into her hands.
She looked at it worriedly and the woman made eating sounds and lifted her hands in an obvious pan- tomime that Kristen should eat the stuff. It was hard to see it in the dark of the hut but it smelled good. She brought it to her lips and began to slurp it down.
Satisfied, the woman left. Kristen finished the stuff, which was surprisingly filling, and rolled onto her side, eventually falling asleep.
"I tell you it isn't that dangerous." Joe glared.
"No go, Boss man. No go." the man shook his head firmly. Joe sighed and nodded. It would be pointless to try and argue any more. The men dumped his things and started back down the trail.
He picked up the necessities, including his 30-30 with the scope and the little Uzi submachine gun, neither of which he hoped he'd need. He loaded on extra ammo and rations, a change of clothes and a few other things, then started uphill.
Within minutes he'd left the impaled skull that had been left as a warning far behind. He found himself panting and cursed under his breath, trying to ease the sound of his breathing.
He reached the top and started along a very faint trail, hoping he didn't run into the fellows who'd made it. Out in this part of the jungle the Bantu, just like the Pouta, would kill anyone they ran across before even stopping to see who it was.
He made decent time the first several hours, but then had to slow down to move more quietly. Every now and then he stopped when he heard some unidentified noise, then moved forward more carefully. By nightfall he'd made only a half dozen miles.
He climbed a tall tree and tied himself to a branch, spending an uneasy night up there. When he got that little bitch back, she was gonna owe him a good hard ride, that was for sure.
The animals wakened with the brightening sky and so did the tribesmen and women. The little village bustled with movement as the women hurried out to take care of the animals and cook the morning meal. Kristen was visited once more by the big fat faced woman who gave her some gooey substance on a thick chunk of leaves and insisted she eat it.
That done, her hands and legs were untied and the big woman hauled her out of the hut and through the early morning bustle. Kristen tried to cover her nudity with her hands but the big woman had a hold of her left so she only had her right, which she held over her right breast, her hand in front of her pussy.
She was led down to a stream where several other big women waited. The big woman with her waded out into the stream, dragging Kristen behind her. When they were waist deep, she shoved down on Kristen's head, sub- mersing her in the water.
Kristen surfaced with a spray of water, coughing the water out of her mouth. Three women surrounded her and began to rub at her body with coarse weeds. She protested weakly, trying to draw away but they treated her as if she were a baby that needed washing, and did so.
The weeds were coated with a soapy goo they'd made and soon had her skin tingling and stinging as they rasped roughly across. They soaped up her hair and face and between her legs without a trace of bother at touching another woman's private parts.
When they were finished they dunked her underwater several times and then hauled her ashore. The first big woman led the sputtering teenager up the low hill to the village and then sat her down on a small stool out- side a hut.
A coarse comb soon ran through her hair as the woman brought the tangled mess to semblance of order. A chastened Kristen bore the pulling of the comb bravely, hardly yelling at all. When it was done the woman beamed at her, pointed a finger at her and said some- thing, which Kristen took to mean, "Wait here."
She sat there wet and naked, holding her arms across her chest and her legs tight together, for almost an hour. Then Mbinga came for her. He pulled her to her feet and then walked around, inspecting her. He nodded, pleased, for the journey had left no mark on her flawless skin.
He pulled her by the arm out into the center of the village. Kristen had no choice but to go along. In the center of the village was a round platform of sorts. It was made of wood and about a foot high. In the middle of it were two thick poles, placed several feet apart.
Each was over eight feet tall, and a third, hor- izontal pole was lashed across their tops forming a crude frame. This frame was usually used to hang especially big animals that a brace hunter had killed, so the tribe could admire them.
Now it was Kristen that was lashed between the poles. Her arms were pulled high above her and tied to either pole so that she was standing absolutely erect. Then, despite her abject protests, her legs were also pulled apart and lashed to the poles.
She was thus bound very tightly in the shape of an X, and left there. Mbinga wanted her displayed in such a way that she could be easily examined. Crowds of people came close and examined her as Mbinga called out to them that she would be sold in one half hour.
The people were amazed at her strange hair color- ing, though Mbinga allayed their fears by assuring them that if she ever was a witch, she couldn't be now. He also confided to them about her especially tight love hole, and stroked her skin as he pointed out how per- fect and unblemished it was.
Numerous villagers came up next to her and slid their hands over her body, marveling at it's smooth soft texture and pale ivory tone. Prospective buyers squeezed her breasts and felt between her legs, making sure all her parts were intact. Several also forced her mouth open and inspected her teeth.
Kristen gazed around in terror and humiliation. This was worse than her worse nightmare ever had been. She bit her tongue and moaned as men and women of all ages crowded up against her naked body, fondling and caressing her.
She was afraid she was going to be subjected to some kind of mass rape and was horrified at the number, and looks of the people who might do it. She yelped as a big woman stuffed her thick fat finger up inside Kristen's asshole, searching for signs of bleeding.
Never could she have imagined being so utterly degraded and abased. She wept in shame as more and more of them crowded around her, their eyes sliding excitedly over her nude form, their voices cackling in her ears.
After the hour was up, Mbinga began to take offers for the female. Initially, the bids were low, as she was on the skinny side. However, when he described how hot and tight she was inside, and how her race seemed to need sex regularly, there was considerabley more interest.
Instead of pigs, goats were offered, along with several spears and bows. He began to think he might well profit from the weak White female, even after splitting the cut with his hunting comrades. Then a truly deep voice spoke up from the rear of the crowd.
Lunga had no need to push his way to the front. At seven feet tall, he could easily see over everyone else's head. His thick, powerfully muscled frame stood on two tree trunk sized legs that could almost outrun an elephant. Indeed, when Lunga ran the ground rumbled like an elephant was passing.
Lunga, in fact, meant elephant in Bantu, for at birth he had been so enormous that his mother had barely survived his parting and her love hole was never the same. He was easily the strongest man in the village, able to lift a water buffalo.
"Three goats." he offered. It was a wonderful offer, but then Lunga was the wealthiest man in the village, other than the chief. His hunting skills were extraordinary. No one sought to top his offer and Mbinga clapped his hands, signaling the end of the bidding.
The crowd parted before Lunga who tromped up to the girl hanging on the frame and examined her with interest. Beside him were his two wives, Churla and Gumne, both weighed in at over two hundred pounds and both were shaking their heads at their man's foolish- ness.
"She will provide you with many satisfying rides, Lunga." Mbinga said. If she doesn't split apart, he silently added. Lunga was a man of few words. He nodded with a low rumbling grunt. He slid his huge hand onto the girl's front, covering her entire belly easily.
"Soft." he grunted.
"She's weak and small." Churla sighed.
"Will get stronger."
"But no bigger. She looks fully grown, if skinny."
"Feed." Lunga said.
"We'll have to feed her a cow." Gumne sniffed.
Lunga paid them no heed, as was the way of men with women in the Bantu. He reached down and tugged on the vines holding her ankles, snapping them like seaweed. Then he pulled on the vines holding her wrists to the poles and she came free, dropping into his massive arms. She gazed at him in shock, her small body held against him like a child against her mother.
Lunga held one hand under her behind and walked back to his hut with her, his two wives trailing behind and still shaking their heads.
He carried the female into the hut and put her down on the floor, where she nearly collapsed from weakness. Then he turned to his two wives and grunted a demand that she be prepared for him for later. He picked up his spear then and moved out, going off to hunt.
Churla and Ghumne gazed down at the skinny female in disgust, then sighed and set to work. They cut the remains of the vines off her wrists and ankles and then sat her back against the side of the hut. Churla brewed up some special medicine that the clan long knew as a powerful aphrodisiac.
It was not for Lunga of course, since both wives knew of his enormous sexual drive and hunger. No, Lunga's partner would need the brew to fortify her, to convince her body to respond with all the necessary actions that would minimize the trauma involved with mating with Lunga.
Lunga was not named after an elephant merely be- cause of his body's size, but because of his "trunk," as the Bantu laughingly called it. His male organ was a source of much pride to he and his wives, being far larger than any other man in the village possessed.
It was, had the Bantu any such measuring devices, well over a foot long and six inches around, making it somewhat thinner than a baseball bat. Many awed com- ments were made about it on the occasions when he was nude, such as the ceremonial potency dance.
When erect it became as hard as the hardest iron and both wives had cause to worry about whether this small framed female would survive the first introduc- tion to it.