African Drums, Chapter 3
by Dark Dreamer
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Part Three
Joe knelt and stared at the tracks in front of him. It had
taken more than two days to get a motorboat and then find where the
Bantu had come out of the river, and now all it showed was that
they'd gone back in again soon after. He glared at the tracks in
frustration.
Actually, the signs told more than just that. The stakes were
still in the ground, and part of the vines were still attached. It
didn't take a great deal of imagination to guess what had been tied
down like that and why.
He let out a cold smile. He kind of wished he'd been there to
see it. He was willing to be 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 Mandy back by force.
The Bantu sold their captives and he had more than enough to
outbid anyone else for her, at least, anyone among the tribe. The
motorboat eased back into the river and then shot forward.
He cursed again, how was he even supposed to find the proper
village anyway? There were scores of Bantu villages around here. He
just hoped he got her before she was pregnant. If that happened and
the Bantu became aware of it they wouldn't part with her until the
brat was dropped.
After two more hours on the river, the canoes slowly pulled
ashore. There were a number of other canoes there and the natives
pulled out all their canoes and rested them alongside the others.
None of the vessels belonged to any one village, they were shared
by those who happened to want them at a particular time on a first-
come-first-served basis.
After overturning the canoes, they set out down a narrow trail
that became almost imperceptible after a hundred paces. Mandy 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.
Mandy 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.
Mandy kept stepping on rocks and pebbles and sharp twigs. She
hopped and whined and cried out in soreness. Mbinga kept tugging on
the rope to encourage her onward but she kept falling in pain.
Finally the column stopped and Mbinga went back in exasperation to
examine her feet.
One examination told him that her feet were like the soft city
people. He could not understand this since she hadn't been wearing
any footwear when he'd captured her. Nevertheless, he hauled out a
long strip of hide and bound it around her right foot, doing the
same with the other.
They set off again, her feet now somewhat protected. Still,
Mandy kept falling back. She was panting exhaustedly 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 feet long from the bush and began
smacking it down on her round ass cheeks whenever it looked like
she was lagging behind. Each whack produced a satisfying burst of
speed, as well as a yelp of pain. The stick would not damage her
perfect skin, for he knew that would be the main selling point of
this girl, that and her tight love hole. The girl fell back again
and he whipped the cane across her ass again, making her cry out
and run faster.
Mandy would have wept in misery but she had no breath for it.
Her chest burned and ached as she trotted along behind the natives.
Every time she slowed the one behind slashed his hard stick against
her behind. She yelped again as the stick descended.
She was getting dizzy and lightheaded as her pain numbed body
neared the end of it's resources. No matter what Mbinga did she
would have to slow down.
Mbinga slapped at her behind again, then again and again, and
again, soon making the entire area red with pain and soreness. The
girl kept yelping, yet did not increase speed significantly and
then not at all. In fact she was slowing down further. Mbinga
growled and whipped her harder.
Mandy gave a final panting gasp and fell forward into the
grass. The natives halted and Mbinga came up to stand over her
frowning. She would not bring such a good price if she were indeed
this weak. He reached down and grabbed her by her long thick hair
and jerked her up to her knees, holding her there despite her best
efforts to collapse.
"It is no use. We will have to wait for her to rest." He told
the others.
"But we have long to go, Mbinga."
"We can not rest this soon, else it will take us days to reach
home."
"Then we must carry her." Mbinga shrugged.
"Only if we share in her price."
He frowned angrily, then tugged viciously on the vine, making the
sweating girl choke briefly.
"All right then." he agreed, sullenly, all his visions of
profits tainted by the weakness of this female.
Niyou and Counta chopped down a tall bamboo and skinned it
quickly, as Mbinga and Contaw rebound her wrists and ankles in
front of her. The pole, about eight feet long, was then thrust
between her arms and legs. Mbinga and Counta took the first shift,
lifting her off the ground and setting the pole on their shoulders.
They set out once again, Mandy 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.
Mandy gradually lost the feeling in her wrists and ankles and
a numbness set in around them. He head bounced and jerked as she
moved through the grasses, her tangled hair sometimes covering her
face completely. She fell in and out of consciousness, her body
utterly drained by the day's events.
Then the natives cut across a miles wide grassland. Mandy's
body, carried along only a foot or so above the ground, slid
through a near continuous wave of tall grasses. They slid like
coarse feathers against her upper thighs and buttocks, then
downward across her cunt, and down off her as she passed over them.
Her ass felt as if an endless revolving brush was rubbing
across her entire nether area. Her cunt, peering out from between
her legs, was especially sensitive to the continuous sliding caress
of the grasses. It began to tingle at the light massage.
Slowly, with Mandy totally unaware of it, her body became
aroused. Her mind, what was left conscious of it, was too caught up
in her own misery to even notice. Still, her cunt soon sizzled and
burned and itched with need, providing yet another source of
profound aching in her young body.
The tingling grew greater and greater, the raping caress of
the grasses making her ass jerk and tremble instinctively. She
needed something, needed relief, needed something more than these
light constant, endless rubbing stalks.
She moaned, then moaned louder. Her delirious body jerked and
jumped on the pole. Her eyes fluttered open and closed and she
whined in seeming pain. The two natives carrying her stopped,
calling to their comrades. They set her down and peered at her
uncertainly, wondering what was the matter.
Mbinga hurried back, glaring down at the woman and beginning
to wish he'd never taken her. "What is the matter with her now?" he
sighed. They pulled the pole free from her, leaving her on her
back. The girl's eyes were closed and she gave no sign of the
source of her pain.
"Perhaps the bindings are too tight." Niyou ventured.
Then the girl's bound hands slid downward into her crotch.
Instantly her behind humped upward against her hands and her
fingers pushed into her love hole. The watching men stared in
amazement. "What is she doing?" Rayogh wondered.
Mbinga knelt beside her and pulled her hands away, jamming his
own between her crotch. Again, she shot her behind upward, arching
her back and moaning loudly. His hand came away sopping wet. He
held it up to the others with astonishment and happiness. This sign
of her heat would definitely increase her price.
"She needs a man's organ in her hole." he said.
"That is a wondrous thing indeed." Ghougumba said, shaking his
head.
"Perhaps it is this way with these people." Niyou said. "Perhaps
their females need a man's organ every few hours or else are in
pain."
"I envy their men." Counta said, causing laughter.
"Well, I will take care of her." Mbinga said.
"I will help if you like." Niyou said.
"I am sure I can sate her fires." Mbinga replied with dignity.
He turned the girl over onto her belly and hauled her up off
the ground so she was kneeling on all fours. Her arms promptly gave
way and her head and shoulders sank back to the ground. Mbinga
knelt behind her and brought his organ out from his loincloth.
He didn't bother to undo her wrists, but cut away the bindings
on her ankles and spread her legs apart. Now her knees started to
give way. His hands slid around her waist and held her steady for
a moment, then, holding her with one arm, he used his other hand to
place his organ against her tight and very wet love hole.
He replaced his grip on the female's waist, then thrust
forward hard. The girl yowled like a kicked dog. her head shot up
and her back arched and then she shuddered all over. Before the
startled Mbinga could move she began rutting furiously back against
his organ, humping her ass with a bizarre desperation.
He began to respond in kind, pounding his groin against her
behind with eager desire. Her love hole sucked and slurped at his
organ more than any he had ever plumbed. He could not withhold his
white love juice from her as his body shook and she sucked out all
of his seed.
Counta moved in at once and he sheathed his own organ in her
spasming love hole. He humped like a mad dog, shooting off inside
her in seconds before being replaced by Niyou. He took her with
long, hard thrusts that drove her from her knees.
His big hands kept hauling her back up to meet his strokes and
all there saw the white female's body tremble all over once again
as grunts of pleasure came from her pretty lips.
The tribesmen continued to sheath their sabres in the girl
long after her body spent itself and knelt, then lay unmoving.
Finally, they lifted her on the poles again and carried her a few
more miles before camping for the night by a stream.
Joe had finally found where they'd come out of the river, at
the communal fishing point for the long neck bands. That was some
help but not much. There were over fifty separate villages on that
side of the Reboogie river that made use of this spot.
He was forced to wander inland, instantly losing their trail
amongst the scores of others that had wandered up and down here in
the past two days. There was nothing he could do but visit each of
the villages and hope that she was in one of the closer ones.
If she wasn't then he was in trouble. The further villages
were much more war like. They had to be for they vied with the
Pouta tribes in that area. The Pouta tribes were extremely
dangerous, especially to white men.
He moved down the trail, accompanied by his three bearers. He
knew though, that they'd abandon him if they came close to the
Pouta areas. None wished to be eviscerated by the angry tribes of
the north.
It was night. The sound of crickets and other night insects
filled the air. The tribesmen knew the insects as their friends,
their guards through the night. For if ought approached the insects
would cease their song to tell them of danger.
The sat quietly around their small fire, speaking in low
voices. Some ate quietly, gulping down tough pieces of dried meat.
In a corner, Mandy 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. Mandy was cut loose and placed on her hands and
knees, then several of the tribesmen took her... casually, though
with pleasure.
Her hands were bound behind her and the vine attached to her
throat again. Then they all set out. Mandy's legs ached
ferociously, and were unbearably stiff. But under the continued
pressure of the rope around her neck, they soon heated and became
more limber.
She jogged behind the natives, keeping up at first. After ten
or fifteen minutes though, she began falling behind. Mbinga began
lashing her behind with a cane which sped her up for a while, but
finally she collapsed like the previous day and they were forced to
carry her again.
The Bantu were not cruel without reason, and, not wanting to
cause the woman any unnecessary pain, stopped and took her at
regular intervals. They were pleased that this seemed to work so
well.
Several hours into their journey the Bantu slowed, becoming
more cautious. They removed their bows from around their shoulders
and held arrows to them as they moved through the grass. Their
voices became mere whispers as they moved along.
Mandy 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. Mandy was set down with the other parcels and
packages as the men greeted wives and comrades.
She looked around dully, then became more alert. After two
days naked in the company of the small hunting group she'd become
accustomed to it. Now though, scores of men women and children
crowded around, all chattering gaily and staring at her.
She covered her nudity as best she could, her skin reddening
in humiliation. A number of the people were pointing at her and
chattering. A small child rushed forward and poked her with a stick
before being chased away by Mbinga.
She was carried into a hut and deposited on the dirt floor.
There she waited in the dark for some time before a native woman,
a fat thing with huge hanging breasts and a kind of skirt around
her waist, came in and shoved a bowl of some unidentifiable
substance into her hands.
She looked at it worriedly and the woman made eating sounds
and lifted her hands in an obvious pantomime that Mandy she 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. Mandy 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. Mandy 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.
Mandy tried to cover her nudity with her hands but the big woman
had ahold 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
Mandy behind her. When they were waist deep, she shoved down on
Mandy's head, submersing her in the water.
Mandy surfaced with a spray of water, coughing the water out
of her mouth. Three women surrounded her and began to rub at her
body with coarse weeds. She protested weakly, trying to draw away
but they treated her as if she were a baby that needed washing, and
did so.
The weeds were coated with a soapy goo they'd made and soon
had her skin tingling and stinging as they rasped roughly across.
They soaped up her hair and face and between her legs without a
trace of bother at touching another woman's private parts.
When they were finished they dunked her underwater several
times and then hauled her ashore. The first big woman led the
sputtering teenager up the low hill to the village and then sat her
down on a small stool outside a hut.
A coarse comb soon ran through her hair as the woman brought
the tangled mess to semblance of order. A chastened Mandy bore the
pulling of the comb bravely, hardly yelling at all. When it was
done the woman beamed at her, pointed a finger at her and said
something, which Mandy 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.
Mandy 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 to thick poles, placed several feet
apart.
Each was over eight feet tall, and a third, horizontal pole
was lashed across their tops forming a crude frame. This frame was
usually used to hang especially big animals that a brace hunter had
killed, so the tribe could admire them.
Now it was Mandy that was lashed between the poles. Her arms
were pulled high above her and tied to either pole so that she was
standing absolutely erect. Then, despite her abject protests, her
legs were also pulled apart and lashed to the poles.
She was thus bound very tightly in the shape of an X, and left
there. Mbinga wanted her displayed in such a way that she could be
easily examined. Crowds of people came close and examined her as
Mbinga called out to them that she would be sold in one half hour.
The people were amazed at her strange hair coloring, though
Mbinga allayed their fears by assuring them that if she ever was a
witch, she couldn't be now. He also confided to them about her
especially tight love hole, and stroked her skin as he pointed out
how perfect and unblemished it was.
Numerous villagers came up next to her and slid their hands
over her body, marvelling 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.
Mandy 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 Mandy'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
considerable 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, signalling the end of the
bidding.
The crowd parted before Lunga who tromped up to the girl
hanging on the frame and examined her with interest. Beside him
were his two wives, Churla and Gumne, both weighed in at over two
hundred pounds and both were shaking their heads at their man's
foolishness.
"She will provide you with many satisfying rides, Lunga."
Mbinga said. If she doesn't split apart, he silently added. Lunga
was a man of few words. He nodded with a low rumbling grunt. He
slid his huge hand onto the girl's front, covering her entire belly
easily.
"Soft." he grunted.
"She's weak and small." Churla sighed.
"Will get stronger."
"But no bigger. She looks fully grown, if skinny."
"Feed." Lunga said.
"We'll have to feed her a cow." Gumne sniffed.
Lunga paid the 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. The cut the remains of the vines off
her wrists and ankles and then sat her back against the side of the
hut. Churla brewed up some special medicine that the clan long knew
as a powerful aphrodisiac.
It was not for Lunga of course, since both wives knew of his
enormous sexual drive and hunger. No, Lunga's partner would need
the brew to fortify her, to convince her body to respond with all
the necessary actions that would minimize the trauma involved with
mating with Lunga.
Lunga was not named after an elephant merely because of his
bodies size, but because of his "trunk", as the Bantu laughingly
called it. His male organ was a source of much pride to he and his
wives, being far larger than any other man in the village
possessed.
It was, had the Bantu any such measuring devices, well over a
foot long and six inches around, making it somewhat thinner than a
baseball bat. Many awed comments were made about it on the
occasions when he was nude, such as the ceremonial potency dance.
When erect it became as hard as the hardest iron and both
wives had cause to worry about whether this small framed female
would survive the first introduction to it.
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