Africa Safari

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 laid unmoving. Finally, they lifted her on the poles again and carried her a few more miles before camping for the night by a stream.

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

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

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

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

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

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 body's size, but because of his "trunk," as the Bantu laughingly called it. His male organ was a source of much pride to he and his wives, being far larger than any other man in the village possessed.

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

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

Part Four

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mandy wrinkled her face 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 Mandy curiously, her fat hand feeling Mandy's belly, then her chest, between her breasts, then her forehead. She nodded then moved away, saying something to the other fat woman.