Evelyn extinguished the lamp. “What a despicable pig. I can’t believe he used you so crudely. I’m sorry, my dear. This is precisely why I avoid men. They’re all pigs, each and every one of them. Mark my words.”
As I lay in bed and tried to sleep, my mind replayed certain images over and over. I kept seeing his lovely pale penis jutting out in the moonlight. Watching me being serviced had aroused him. When he looked at me, I felt the sweetest little tingles in my stomach. I had perceived them from the first moment we met. Yet again, I thought about his manly organ. What did it feel like? Would I like it inside of me? Would I ever see it again? It took forever to fall asleep.
The next morning, Evelyn behaved as if nothing untoward had happened the night before. She treated Mr. Collins with aloof indifference and went out of her way not to be near him. She suffered through mealtimes in his presence, her posture tense, her jaw clenched, but other than those brief moments, she avoided him completely.
On the third day of our journey, our fleet slipped through a narrowing passage in the chocolate colored water. The jungle closed in on all sides. Vines as thick as a man’s wrist hung down, sometimes touching the boat. Snakes swung from them and hissed, along with the squawking of noisy monkeys. That afternoon, a barrage of poison arrows inundated us. Everyone ducked for cover. An unseen enemy lurked in the gloomy depths of the forest. One of the porters had taken an arrow and died within hours.
To compound matters, it rained for days on end, and the wooden railings teamed with small leeches searching for a host. When trapped indoors, Evelyn and I spent the time reading, embroidering, and writing in our journals.
Late one night, I left my comfortable bed and went to the small, galley style kitchen to find something to eat. The drone of the motor filled the otherwise silent night. Lapping water splashed against the sides of the hull. I gingerly stepped over the bodies of sleeping natives. They were perfectly at ease on the damp wooden floor. Some rested their heads on sacks of rice and bags of flour. A light remained on near the stern. In the kitchen, hanging pots and pans gently rattled with the movement of the ship.
I searched for preserved pears. I’d seen them earlier, and I had been craving them all day. Within a small pantry that smelled heavily of exotic spices, I found the jar in question. I was about to open the lid when the sound of a groan caught my attention. I returned the jar to the shelf and peeked down the hallway. I saw nothing.
Wandering further aft, I went to investigate. At the far end of the ship, near the cargo hold, I glimpsed the source of the noise. Mr. Collins, who was naked, stood behind the prone form of a native. In the dim lighting it was impossible to tell which porter it was, but I was able to discern that the person was female. He was thrusting himself into her from behind.
Stifling a gasp, I stood in the shadows and watched something I had never seen before. The woman’s dark skin glistened with perspiration as she moaned softly.
“Take my cock, you black bitch.”
My hand went to my throat, and I gripped the edge of a doorway. From my position, I was hidden from his line of sight, although I saw him clearly. He was using this poor woman for his own pleasure. I’d only ever had a wooden tool in me. What did it feel like to have a real penis? The native didn’t seem to mind that he was taking her in this manner. Her moans were increasing with each of his thrusts. Glued to the scene, I could only stare. My eyes were riveted on his bare bottom and the way it clenched when he thrust forward. His lean legs were two feet apart with the knees slightly bent. Long fingers gripped her hips as he pounded her.
“Yeah…take it! Aaaa…” The woman shrieked suddenly and convulsed. “Cum on my cock. Yeah!”
He continued to pound her until she fell limply over the crate. Mr. Collins pulled himself from her and stroked his meat with his fingertips. His cock glistened with wetness.
“Get on your knees. Suck me off, bitch.”
With natural grace, she knelt before him and took his penis into her hands. I was able to see her face now. Her cheekbones were high, her nose flat, and her lips sensuously rounded. I’d seen this woman before, and her beauty had awed me. Long, thick black hair hung down her back. Her breasts were firm and high. She took him into her mouth and sucked noisily.
“Yeah. That’s it. Aaaah…make me squirt.”
His white cock was a stark contrast to the dark fingers that massaged its length. Her mouth opened and closed over his engorged tip as she worked the end vigorously. I felt damp between my legs. Watching them had aroused me horribly, and I burned with desire. I wished it were me bending over the crate getting fucked from behind. Jealousy reared its ugly head. I wanted to be the one on my knees servicing the overseer. These thoughts should have horrified me, but they didn’t.
He groaned loudly and worked his penis out of her mouth. “Oh…yeah…open your pretty lips for me.” She waited patiently beneath him. He pointed his cock at her just as the first spurt of white semen was ejected. The stream landed on the pad of her tongue. Subsequent squirts showered her face. She didn’t seem to mind this treatment in the least. After he’d emptied himself, she drew the cock into her mouth and suckled him.
“Lick me clean. Ooohh…God…”
I turned to leave and stubbed my toe on a wooden barrel. Suppressing a pained gasp, I’d been perceived, because Mr. Collins was now staring at me.
He smiled lazily. “See somethin’ you like, Miss Tennent?”
“I…certainly not!” I turned around and ran away. His laughter followed me.
Chapter Five
After three more days on the river, we arrived at a small trading outpost where we disembarked. The cargo was unloaded and placed onto wagons. This process took a full hour even with fifty or so porters working tirelessly in the hot African sun. When the last crate had been hoisted onto the creaky conveyances, we were on our way.
The Congo was so dense that no sunlight penetrated the foliage overhead. Porters hacked out a path through the brambles, papyrus, and sedge grass. Climbing plants wound themselves around tree trunks, nearly suffocating the vegetation. The path seemed to have been obliterated by creepers and undergrowth. It was like a hothouse run riot with neglect.
Shortly after we began our trek into the forest, the first of several local headmen had to be dealt with. Otherwise we would have all met with a violent death at the end of a spear. This hongo or payment was made with items such as glass beads, lengths of cloth, and copper armlets. One chief demanded four of our porters as slaves. After a tense negotiation, he was given an ox, and we were on our way.
Mr. Collins muttered under his breath, “Fuckin’ savages.”
He’d steadfastly refused to hand over any of his men or women as slaves. This move had garnered my begrudging respect for the uncouth Texan.
As the blanket of night descended upon us, we trudged on. Hacking away at vines to allow our wagons access was hard work. The men took turns with axes and machetes until their hands were lacerated and bleeding. We made camp in a small clearing, and the porters set about assembling tents and making a fire. A pig had been butchered, and it was being roasted over a blazing pit.
I sat on a crate near Evelyn. She was fanning herself furiously. I glanced at her. “Are you all right?”
She groaned. “My dear, I wouldn’t know where to begin. My list of grievances is endless. Suffice it to say, I’m thoroughly exhausted.”
Barely ten years my senior, my chaperone reminded me of my mother and her bouts with intestinal issues and gout. “Well, at least we’re on solid ground now. That’s something.”
She harrumphed and swatted at a huge flying bug.
When everyone had settled down and the cattle had been tended to, we ate a delicious dinner and drank from a cask of wine. Mr. Collins and Carlos were well into their cups and regaling us with stories about their adventures in the jungle. Mr. Collins had once been on a steamer for four months where the cockroaches had bred in the millions. He would wake up in the mornings with bite marks. Some o
f the bites had turned into nasty sores. To help alleviate the pest problem; he’d adopted a tame mongoose. The creature ate thousands of cockroaches but still managed to lose weight during the voyage. Carlos had spent time with the Niam-Niam, a cannibalistic tribe in central West Africa. He’d seen skulls and bones boiled. Some had been smashed to get at the brains. Evelyn and I were horrified and repulsed by their stories. My chaperone stared at Mr. Collins as if he’d grown horns. It was obvious she detested him with a passion.
Settling into our tents, we slept soundly until the noisy squawking of birds woke us in the morning. The bells clanged as the oxen were tethered to the wagons. Evelyn and I ate a small breakfast and then washed up with a bowl of water. I had been secretly forgoing wearing my corset. Truth be told, I’d also neglected to wear my petticoats. I was tempted to leave off the pantalettes as well. The layers of clothing added unnecessary heat to my body. If I had my way, I’d wear only the sheer chemise, which would be scandalous.
As the day wore on and the humidity increased, we trudged through the jungle single file. Evelyn and I sat on the third wagon on a hard wooden bench. We were about to make a temporary camp in a small clearing and have lunch when shouts rang out. A musket was fired and several women screamed.
“Jesus Christ!” shouted Mr. Collins. “Hold your fire!”
Out from the jungle stepped hundreds of natives who pointed spears at us. These men were fearsome looking with straws thrust through the cartilage of their noses. Their teeth had been filed to hideous points. Some carried Tower muskets.
“Oh, shit,” muttered Mr. Collins. He glanced at me. “Cover your hair, woman!”
I gasped and shoved my bonnet over my head. Why did he want me to cover my hair?
A tall, thin looking native stepped forward and began to speak. He wore what I recognized as a red English tunic, which he had either bartered or stolen off of some unfortunate soul. Carlos, fluent in several African dialects, spoke to the man. They were obviously demanding hongo, and we would have to gift them with something or else mayhem would ensue.
Evelyn held onto me with surprising strength. “Dear Lord, our heavenly father,” she prayed. “Please protect us from this savage scum.” Horror filled her eyes. “Look at them, will you. Have you ever seen anything so gruesome? What have they done to their teeth?” She crossed herself.
“It’s the goddamned Azande,” muttered Mr. Collins. He glanced around nervously. “What the hell do they want?”
“The chief wants three oxen and ten slaves,” said Carlos.
“There’s no fucking way he’s gettin’ that. Give him some beads and let’s be on our way.”
Carlos spoke rapidly in a strange sounding language. The Azande chief stiffened and stomped his bare foot. His face twisted unpleasantly, and he sneered revealing sharp teeth.
“Uh, boss. He don’t want the beads. He says he now wants one of the white women.”
Evelyn gasped.
This statement hadn’t surprised Mr. Collins. He looked like he’d been expecting it. “Tell him we’ll give ‘em a coupla muskets. That should do it.”
Carlos conveyed the message. The chief’s beady eyes roamed over me. My skin began to crawl, and I shivered.
Noting his attention, Max muttered, “Aw, shit.”
“He says he’ll take two muskets and the blonde,” said Carlos.
I gasped.
“Christ!”
The chief shouted to his men. They roared mightily. Spears and clubs were thrust into the air.
“Shit!” shouted Mr. Collins. “Wait! Wait!” He dismounted and ran to the wagon, where he tore through a leather travel bag. Retrieving an item, he thrust it in front of the chief’s face. It was a mirror. “Look, you savage little shit, it’s magic!”
The chief stared at his own reflection. The natives around him quieted down. A nervous hush fell over us as he admired his appearance. He opened his mouth and examined his teeth. Satisfied with what he saw, he spoke to Carlos.
“Boss, he says, he’s seen this before. He doesn’t want the magic mirror. He wants two muskets and the blonde.”
Mr. Collins glanced at me. “Tell him he can have five muskets, a blanket, beads, some sugar, coffee, and tin chests.” He added, “And, a goddamned ox.”
Carlos relayed the information, and the chief shook his head. He hissed and spat and pointed his spear at me. Then he said something to his men, and they began to wave their spears in the air, chanting wildly. A musket was discharged and several porters were speared. They fell to the ground bleeding. One of the Azande grabbed Mr. Collins by the throat. The negotiations had clearly deteriorated.
“Shit! Wait! Listen! Take five muskets, one ox, and the brunette.”
A shocked gasp came from Evelyn, and she fainted. She fell back into the wagon with her booted feet sticking out from beneath her dress.
I glanced unhappily at Mr. Collins. “How could you?”
“You wanna go instead?” The muscled arm around his neck looked lethal. He was struggling with the native, trying to dislodge him.
Carlos and the chief spoke for several minutes finalizing the negotiations. “Boss, he says, he’ll take one ox, five muskets, and the brunette. He only wants the brunette for a coupla hours.” He smiled rakishly. “She’ll be returned alive, sir.”
Mr. Collins cleared his throat and smiled broadly. “Looks like we got us a deal.” The Azande released him.
The savages took Evelyn away. She was thrown over the shoulder of an enormous brute. He wore nothing other than a large straw through his nose. His manly package hung heavily between his thighs. It was half way to his kneecaps! How would that look aroused? I felt faint just thinking about it.
Poor Evelyn. Thank God it’s not me.
I chastised myself for thinking such a horrible thought. I glared at Mr. Collins. “You’re a terrible person! Evelyn was right about you.”
“Yeah? You wanna join ‘em, girly? They’d be more than happy to have you.” He pointed a finger in my face. “I saved your ass. You should be gettin’ on your knees thanking me instead of bitchin’ and caterwaulin’.” He shouted, “Make camp! Carlos, we gotta follow ‘em to make sure he keeps his word and don’t hurt her. Give the men their orders.”
“Yes, boss.”
“I’m going with you.”
He eyed me soberly. “No you ain’t.”
“Oh, yes I am.”
His eyes traveled over me. “I woulda felt bad if it had been you, but that stuck up bitch needs to learn a lesson.” He reached for his rifle. “I hope they work her over good.”
“I’m coming.”
“Fine,” he muttered.
Chapter Six
The savages hadn’t gone far. They made a rather large fire and gathered around, stomping and thrusting their spears into the air. They were jubilant and celebratory. Luckily, Evelyn was still unconscious. She had no idea that her clothing was being cut from her body, exposing her pale, flawless skin to their curious gazes. An animal pelt had been thrown to the ground. When she was completely naked, they placed her on it.
Carlos, Mr. Collins, and I huddled together in the underbrush some distance away and watched silently. Carlos produced a shiny flask and took a long swig. He handed the silver container to Max.
“Thanks,” he whispered.
I was appalled. My chaperone was about to be brutalized by an entire tribe of bloodthirsty savages, and these horrible men were behaving as if it were a sporting match. “You disgust me.”
Mr. Collins smiled crookedly. “You sound like my mother.” He sat Indian style with his ankles crossed. Grabbing me, he pulled me onto his lap. I protested wildly, but steely arms stilled my movement. “Relax, woman. Use me as a chair. We might be here a while.”
He smelled of whiskey, leather, and horse. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant. I’d never been this close to a man before. My father had never touched me, and I didn’t have any brothers. I glanced at him. His smile produced little tingles in my stomach.
/> “Don’t worry. She might like it. Ya never know.”
“You’re despicable. Evelyn was right. All men are pigs.” His laughter filled my ears.
The natives brought out some sort of leather pouch, and they began to rub oil all over Evelyn’s body. Her large breasts were coated in the shiny fluid, as was her stomach. They began dancing and chanting as her body was basted like a turkey before baking. She’d been turned around, and oil was spread from her neck to the tips of her toes.
It was at this moment that she suddenly came to. Glancing around in horror, she screamed. This elicited a collective cry amongst the savages. They chanted and grunted noisily, stomping feet and pounding the ends of their spears against the ground. I gasped. Penises began to lengthen and harden. They jutted out like enormous onyx rods.
“Get away from me, you filthy swine!” Evelyn tried to run, but she was captured and thrown to the animal pelt. “Don’t touch me! Help! Help! Dear God. Won’t someone help me?” Tears were falling down her face, and her chest heaved with emotion.
“I feel so bad,” I whispered. I ached for her.
Carlos handed me the flask. “Have a drink.”
I glanced at his hand. “I…no thank you.” I dropped my head, refusing to look at the scene before me. This did not alleviate my pain in any way. Evelyn was shouting and begging for mercy. I covered my ears, but I could still hear her. It was horrible.
Things suddenly quieted down, and I raised my head to glimpse the chief stepping onto the pelt. He puffed out his broad chest and grunted loudly. Several sets of hands grabbed Evelyn and forced her to her knees with her bottom in the air. The chief grasped her hips and shouted something, which brought forth a rousing response. They chanted and grunted as he massaged his dark, oil coated cock and poised it at her entrance.
“Dear God! Help me! Help me!”
He plunged into her with one thrust. Then he rutted like an animal. He was mercifully quick in his assault, and after several thrusts, he shouted and stiffened. Pulling his meat from her opening, her pussy dripped with seminal fluid. No sooner had he stepped from the pelt, than another savage got on his knees behind her. She sobbed with her head down and long, brown hair in her face. He grasped her hips and thrust forward, rutting shamelessly. Within moments, he too finished. He was replaced with yet another heathen, and he also reached his peak quickly.
Jane's Playmates (A Tarzan and Jane Adventure) Page 3
