Goodbye to the Jungle

by Wayne Mansfield

  Garth nodded. “Okay. Okay. I was only asking.”

  Dank pushed him on the chest, making him stagger back. “Well, next time…don’t!” He held Garth’s attention a moment longer before heading off, violently tugging on the rope to make sure Jahl moved, too.

  Jahl focused his attention on Dank’s ponytail, deliberately not looking at Garth. He didn’t want to provoke the man. He knew the ways of the pecking order, especially when someone lost face to a superior in the company of an inferior. The one lowest on the rung usually copped it next, and Jahl couldn’t get any lower on that particular ladder.

  Garth saved his anger for Bede, shoving him aside as he passed so the man fell into the bushes.

  “Not your day today, is it?” snarled Bede.

  Chapter 3

  They travelled another two days, leaving the jungle and entering the swamplands, the most treacherous part of the journey due to quicksand, crocodiles, and giant snakes. The swampland soon gave way to lightly wooded grasslands, which in turn became farmland. As they marched in single file down a wide dirt road, Jahl could see houses, constructed from wood and mud with rooves of straw. Each had a stone chimney from which a single column of smoke arose. And in the fields, olive-skinned men toiled hard, each, without exception, momentarily stopping work to observe the slavers and their latest acquisition as they passed.

  “Keep ya eyes on the road,” said Dank, tugging on the rope.

  Jahl glared at him. Dark thoughts filled his head. Thoughts of blood and death. For all of them. They were vermin, lice to be eradicated. And still, despite his hateful thoughts, his expression remained unchanged. A Hamica never let his enemy see what was happening inside his head.

  Near the end of the second day, the fields gave way to rows of houses, with cobblestone roads between them, and streetlights with candles inside. The houses were similar to those he’d already seen, constructed from wood and mud, with thatched rooves and stone chimneys. Most had been painted white, although some were an ochre colour.

  They led him along a maze of paved roads to a large square at the centre of the town. On two sides, wooden carts, stalls, and kiosks sold fruits and vegetables, meats and cheeses, and flowers. Bunches of herbs hung from the rails of one cart, while another cart sold glass containers filled with coloured liquids. Women with baskets milled around, chatting to one another as they perused the goods on sale. Children played and shouted nearby.

  At the centre of the square, blocking part of the markets from view, stood a wooden building. Not wood and mud, like the other structures, just wood, painted darkest brown. Inside, once Jahl’s eyes adjusted to the scant light, he found it largely empty.

  “Hello,” called Dank.

  He waited, his men hovering behind him.

  “Hello,” he called again, his tone gruff and impatient. “You there, Amar?”

  A man of equal size and proportion to Dank strolled from the shadows, unhurried and unafraid, as the other men were, of Dank. “You wanted something?”

  Dank pulled Jahl towards him. “Brought ya some new merchandise.”

  Amar stepped closer. “The windows,” he barked.

  All at once, unseen hands opened shutters on several windows, flooding the space with light. The hands belonged to several men which had been standing at evenly spaced intervals around the edge of the room.

  Amar put his fingers on Jahl’s mouth and tried to open it, but Jahl refused. Amar punched him in the stomach, then forced his fingers between Jahl’s lips and pried apart his jaws with ease. He peered into Jahl’s mouth, examining his teeth.

  “Stick ya tongue out.”

  Jahl begrudgingly obliged.

  The inspection continued—his ears, his scalp, his nostrils.

  “No blemishes?” he asked.

  “Nope,” replied Dank.

  Amar ran his hand over Jahl’s chest, sliding it over his stomach to his pubic bush. He took Jahl’s cock in his hand, pulling back the foreskin and bending down to examine it more closely. He sniffed it, then stood upright. “Turn him around.”

  Dank obediently did so, due, Jahl suspected, to thoughts of imminent payment.

  Amar ran the palm of his hand over Jahl’s shoulders, then down his spine, pressing hard against several vertebrae. “Bend.”

  Dank grabbed a handful of Jahl’s blue-black hair and pulled downwards so Jahl had no choice but to bend.

  Amar spread apart Jahl’s buttocks, simultaneously running the thumb of each hand over the pucker before sniffing. After inspecting the anus, he checked the back of Jahl’s thighs and calves.

  “The usual amount?” he said, walking to a single table and chair at the back of the room.

  Dank didn’t bother to answer. The question had seemed more like a statement anyway.

  Amar returned with two small leather pouches, each with a drawstring securely tied. He dumped the bags into Dank’s outstretched hand and waved him away. Dank curled his lip and left with his men.

  Jahl remained standing in the centre of the room, his stomach exhibiting the first signs of anxiousness, a fluttering sensation he hadn’t experienced since his father had first taken him hunting in the jungle. And the fluttering created a desire to urinate. Worse, the more he thought about this need, the more he wanted to do it.

  “I need to piss,” he said, his first words since the previous day.

  Amar faced him and shrugged. “So piss.”

  What did Jahl care? It wasn’t his house. If Amar said he could urinate, he would, and so he did, the liquid splashing his feet and legs as it spread in a wide puddle away from him.

  “Feel better?” asked Amar.

  He clapped his hands, and half a dozen men who had so far been standing motionless by the walls, except to open the windows, hurried towards Jahl.

  Jahl immediately adopted a defensive posture. With his knees bent, he transferred his weight from one foot to the other in readiness to kick or block as required. His hands, though still bound, could also be used to strike.

  The men surrounded him, though made no attempt to touch him. Instead, half the men scrambled onto the shoulders of the other half, who lifted them towards the ceiling. They pulled down poles, which fitted into holes in the floorboards.

  The other men at the walls picked up more poles, which had been neatly tucked into the corners where the walls met the floor. They brought them to the centre, while another man brought a large wooden chest to where a cuboidal frame was being constructed. From inside the box, the men retrieved ties they used to secure the poles into place, creating a sturdy structure around Jahl.

  Upon completion, the men allowed Amar to inspect their work. He shook several poles—or attempted to—but, secured with skill, not one pole moved.

  This pleased Amar, who smiled. “All right. Get him up.”

  Two men grabbed Jahl and held him tight, while a third man untied the ropes that bound him. Two more men retrieved a pair of large leather cuffs from the wooden chest, along with ropes with metal clips on either end. They passed the ropes to other men, who connected them to the poles, while they themselves pulled the leather cuffs over each of Jahl’s feet, tugging them up and over his knees.

  Meanwhile, a leather harness had been installed at the centre of the frame. Some men tilted Jahl backward and secured him into the harness, while others attached clips to small rings in the leather cuffs over his knees. The finished result left Jahl hanging in the centre of the frame, his legs held open and spread wide, exposing him in a most humiliating fashion. As a finishing touch, unseen hands tied his wrists together beneath the harness.

  Once the men had completed their task to their master’s satisfaction, they returned to their original positions beside the walls. Somewhere outside the front door, a bell started ringing.

  Jahl panicked. What did it mean?

  The bell continued for many minutes, clanging back and forth until Jahl thought he might go mad if it didn’t stop. Then an even more unnerving sound reached his ears. The sound of
voices. Men’s voices. Then footsteps entering the building.

  Jahl squirmed in his harness, despite the fact he knew it would be impossible to free himself. No doubt Amar’s men had perfected their skills after having practised them many, many times.

  As the first of the all-male crowd filtered into Jahl’s peripheral vision, he closed his eyes and tried to think of more pleasant things, of his home in the jungle and of the people he cared for. What would they be doing now? How is my mother? My father? What are they thinking? Feeling?

  “Silence!”

  The demand not only quieted the room, but opened Jahl’s eyes.

  Amar stood in front of him, almost in the space between his legs. “Fresh from the jungle,” he began, his frightening alpha-male persona giving way to a more personable character. “Strong as a jaguar. Healthy as a buck. And handsome.”

  “Let us look at him,” shouted one member of the crowd.

  “Show us,” shouted another.

  Amar held up a hand to placate the enthusiastic gathering. “All in good time.” He faced Jahl, his smile melting. “Gentlemen, we have a virgin.” He pulled aside one of Jahl’s buttocks, then pressed a fingertip against his anus. “Notice I can’t even get the tip inside. Some man is gonna go home a lucky son-of-a-bitch tonight.”

  One man approached the harness.

  Amar shook his head. “No, sir. Ya may look, but no touching.”

  The man brushed aside Amar’s arm and pressed the tip of his finger against Jahl’s hairless anus. He pushed inside sharply, causing Jahl to wince. “Amar speaks the truth.” The man grinned toward his peers. “The young buck is indeed intact.”

  Amar guided the man back to the crowd. “There you have it, gentlemen. From the lips of one of ya own.” Amar returned his attention to the harness and grabbed Jahl’s cock. He began stroking the small wrinkled organ. “I know there are many among you who would like to see all the young man’s…charms.”

  Jahl struggled against the sensation in his loins, the feelings generated by Amar’s strong hand around his penis pleasurable. Still, he clung to his defiance, not wanting to cooperate with Amar, the man offering him up for sale. But as Amar continued to stroke him, Jahl found himself losing the battle. His organ grew larger in Amar’s hand. In fact, so long had it been since he’d last spilt his seed, his cock was soon as hard as the granite found by the river.

  Amar appeared taken aback by the size of Jahl’s manhood. His eyes widened as he glanced at Jahl’s face, then back at the oversized erection.

  “Who could have guessed”—he turned side-on to the audience—”that something so small and shrivelled could grow to such eye-watering proportions?”

  There were a couple of audible gasps from the crowd.

  Amar nodded. “See, gentlemen, you would not only be getting a sturdy workman, but also a bed-partner equalled by none. Why, I might even keep him for myself, now that I think about it.”

  “Ten gold pieces!”

  “Twelve gold pieces!”

  The crowd surged forward, with men shouting out bids and waving purses.

  “Fifteen.”

  “Twenty.”

  Jahl closed his eyes and did his best to concentrate on something else, to block out the growing volume of voices. He set his mind to remembering a song his mother used to hum. He tried to recall how it went, humming to himself until he lost himself in the melody. And when he came to the end of the tune, he started again, but stopped when the room fell silent.

  “Thirty-two gold pieces?” asked Amar.

  “Thirty-two,” said a voice from the middle of the crowd.

  “Are you good for it?”

  A tall man with pleasing looks stepped forward, holding up three leather pouches.

  “Well, then,” said Amar, “what are we waiting for? Come with me to the back of the room. And everyone else, please make your way out. As always, it’s been a pleasure.”

  Amar ushered the man with the winning bid to the back of the building. At his desk, he clapped his hands, and a small group of the men beside the wall came forth and started releasing Jahl from the harness. By the time the transaction had been completed, Jahl was standing, unbound and naked, waiting.

  Chapter 4

  “My name is Brocknor,” said the man as they left the building. “I live on a small property on the outskirts of town. It’s secure, comfortable, and private. If you are compliant and respectful, you’ll enjoy your time with me. I’m a fair man, but I won’t tolerate disobedience.” He looked at Jahl. “Do you understand?”

  Jahl had yet to resign himself to his fate. It remained his intention to escape at the first possible opportunity. Therefore, he deduced, there was no harm in saying what Brocknor wanted to hear. “Yes.”

  “Pleased to hear it. And what’s your name? What do I call you?”

  “Jahl.”

  By the light of day, Jahl could better see him. Brocknor looked to be at least ten summers older than Jahl’s own twenty-eight. He stood taller by about a head’s length. Broad-shouldered, he wore a tunic of thick, deep blue fabric, hemmed with a gold and white border, a garment barely long enough to hide the tip of his cock, which Jahl kept glimpsing. The visible muscles in his legs and arms were large and well-defined. And he obviously liked being outdoors, since his skin appeared almost as brown as Jahl’s.

  It amused him to see Brocknor doing his best to surreptitiously examine his naked form, and the moment Jahl caught him looking, Brocknor grew too embarrassed to continue his attempts.

  They walked north through the village, Jahl’s naked body drawing no more than cursory glances from the villagers. Perhaps they had viewed the same scene, a master leading his new slave home, myriad times before.

  It wasn’t a great distance from the town square. Jahl had expected a considerably longer walk based on the number of houses he’d passed on his way into the village.

  “This is your new home,” said Brocknor as they arrived at a large walled property on the furthermost outskirts of town.

  He pushed open the heavy wooden gate and Jahl stepped into a paradise of lush vegetation. He saw an ornamental pond in one corner and a pair of brightly coloured parrots in a decorative cage by the villa. But Jahl had only a moment to survey the grounds.

  As the gate clicked shut, Brocknor grabbed Jahl’s hands and lifted his arms to the side. “I have to look at you.”

  He released one of Jahl’s hands and turned him around. When Jahl faced him once more, Brocknor dropped to his knees, kissing the foreskin of Jahl’s cock.

  “But this is what I really can’t wait to experience.” He inhaled, taking his time to enjoy the perfume of Jahl’s crotch. “Delicious.”

  He turned Jahl again, bringing his buttocks into full view. He spread the cheeks. “And these are equally as delicious.” He kissed the puckered flesh between them before standing. “Come.”

  As Brocknor walked towards the villa, Jahl took the opportunity to assess the height of the walls. At least one and a half times his own height. But trees grew, like leafy sentinels, right beside them. He smiled, and thinking his escape was assured, he willingly followed Brocknor into the building.

  The lavishly decorated interior contained murals of naked men and scenes of nature adorning the walls, and soft furnishings the likes of which Jahl could never have dreamed. In the doorways and windows, lengths of lightweight fabric billowed at the slightest hint of a breeze. He noted vases of flowers and, in the interior courtyard, a small swimming pool surrounded by lush ferns and wild orchids.

  “I hope you’ll be happy here, Jahl,” said Brocknor.

  Jahl thought it highly likely he could be happy there, but not as happy as he knew he would be back in the jungle. “What is my role?”

  Brocknor’s blue eyes momentarily captivated Jahl. He hadn’t noticed them until that moment, their colour beautiful, like the wings of a sapphire butterfly. He viewed kindness in them, too. A kindness that came from a good soul. Jahl could sense those types of things.r />
  “Your role won’t be difficult. You’ll attend to me, and when you aren’t doing that, you can help Mari. She’s my housekeeper. And if she doesn’t need you, your time is your own. Just be near in case I need you.”

  Jahl gave no reaction. He understood the gist of what had been said, and that was enough. But one word needed clarifying. “What do you mean by ‘attend’?”

  “To ensure my needs are met,” explained Brocknor. “Should I want wine, I’d expect you to pour it. Or if I need to eat, you’d bring me something from the kitchen.” He paused for thought. “I also might need someone to sit with me and keep me company.” He smiled. “Things such as that.”

  “And what is my payment?”

  A strange expression materialised on Brocknor’s face, one difficult to read. “You don’t get paid, my boy.” A slight crease formed between his brows. “But you don’t need any payment. I’ll provide you with everything you could want.”

  “I want my freedom.” He looked Brocknor unblinkingly in the eye. “Can you give me that?” he asked, his tone not defiant or aggressive. He asked the question calmly and with no more emotion than he had uttered any other word that day.

  The crease between Brocknor’s brows deepened. “You know the answer to that, Jahl. I paid for you. You belong to me now.”

  Jahl gave a single nod. An acknowledgement, not an agreement.

  Brocknor began walking down the open corridor. “Come with me.”

  They arrived in a large open room at the opposite end of the villa, lit by oil lamps and filled with the scent of incense burning, though Jahl couldn’t see the source of the fragrance. A naked woman stood pouring large buckets of water into a copper bath. She was olive-skinned like Jahl, but he didn’t recognise her. She could have come from a different tribe elsewhere in the vast jungle.

  “Mari is preparing a bath for you,” said Brocknor, the friendliness in his voice returning. “You must be tired after your journey. This will help you to relax.”

  Brocknor helped him into the water as Mari went back and forth to a large iron cauldron suspended above a small fire, filling the bucket with hot water to add to the bath.