Befuddled. Confused. Senses lost in an impermeable fog. A suffocating fog. A fog giving way to a glaring light. A light approaching .. getting stronger. A sharp searing light burning his eyeballs. Light becoming sound. Getting louder .. in the wake of that blinding glare a growing noise. A hostile din .. growing .. increasing .. filling his head. A screeching clamour. Warning. Threatening. Menacing.
With a cry Tarzan broke through into consciousness. Panting. Heaving burning air into his guts. Blinking. Shaking his head. Where the hell was he? What was going on? Weak, his head in a mess. Was that light their damned Mzanka? Had he ridden in on that din? Come to claim his body-slave?
With the instinct of a feral male, feeling something on him, Tarzan tried to shake that damned Mzanka off him. His groping hands up between his legs. The pervert was grabbing at Tarzan’s balls. Pain stabbed Tarzan in his head as he swerved to throw the prick off.
His guts made to erupt when he swung up his head. Confusion cleared with the threat of throwing up. No, not their Mzanka. It wasn’t their precious Mzanka tormenting him. Tarzan’s vision cleared. Spotting before him that scheming priest. His arms out-stretched .. gesturing towards Tarzan .. but his eyes were up above. Intoning .. gabbling something wild .. Tarzan could not make it out.
He blinked. He shook his head to clear his vision better. Pain burst like dynamite in his head. Tarzan cried out .. crumpling together .. squinting away from the blistering light .. looking down. Then seeing the cause of that menace he’d felt. A broad muscular back, a warrior down on his knees .. Tarzan felt his hands around his own balls. Not that Mzanka was going for him. Just one of these sadistic bastards. Doing something down between his legs. The feral ape within him made to fend off the grip. But his legs did not move. He remembered the bonds tied around his ankles now .. his legs spread out, tied, stretched out.
The warrior rose to his feet. He turned his eyes to the priest. Seeing him droning on .. communicating .. inducing Mzanka to grace their presence .. inviting him to come accept the tribe’s magnificent offering.
The warrior did not dare to interrupt. He waited, dutifully. Instead, casting a glance down at the offering. Appraising for himself the good job he had done, waiting on the priest’s praise. After tying cord tight around the offering’s ballsack. Looping the ends up and around the base of his cock .. binding it in tight blood-trapping loops. A job well-done. The offering was already stood erect and hard.
Tarzan was suddenly aware of a change. Weakness had had him in its grip for a while .. losing focus, drifting off .. his senses rushing back into a welcome reprieve from these tensions. But into that stay from threat a fresh presence had now broken through. His eyes ripped open. The priest was now staring into his face. Tarzan felt something different about this. A powerful mystical presence rushed through Tarzan’s senses .. a power that was not human. An glare that spoke of unnatural happenings boring into his face. For a moment Tarzan sensed a quiver of fear.
The priest’s gaze travelled down off his face. Down over his chest .. blotched with the salt of dried-on sweat .. after hours of struggling to breath against his overpowering heat. Before it hit its target, Tarzan knew. He felt it in his body. He sensed the fresh threat on him before he could see. They had tampered with his manhood .. somehow. Tarzan was stood erect. Forced on him while he was weak and out-of-himself. A fist-clenching tightness all around the tops of his legs.
He saw the priest’s glance had travelled down that far .. briefly lingering over the power in his belly .. appreciably, Tarzan felt, assessing the worthiness of the victim they were offering up to their Mzanka. But the priest’s unnatural look was headed elsewhere. When the priest’s eyes hit the erection forced on him, Tarzan saw him nod. That was what he had been searching for. This was how he wanted Tarzan presented. Still inducing their damned Mzanka to come and take a look.
Against his better judgement, Tarzan felt an anxiety tremble down his legs. At the way he had been tied up. At the way he felt. A weakness like he had never known. Strung out for an endless night .. stretched into body-breaking weakness over that drum. And since, the never-ending torture in this heat. Sapping every bit of strength out of his body .. crushing his fighting spirit .. breaking his will. For a moment Tarzan sensed panic. Fear. Anxiety that they WERE getting to him.
The priest nodded to the warrior. Tarzan saw the powerfully-built man bend down and pick up a bag .. holding it up by the cord.
Before he went down on his knees before him, Tarzan already sensed what was going to happen. A shiver of fear broke down his backbone. More torture, more to contend with. And his spirit was sorely crushed already. More and more, pain-upon-pain. All to get their damned Mzanka to come.
Doggedly he made himself get a grip. Stubborn Tarzan dug deep seeking out inner strength. That bag of rocks was being tied on to him. He wriggled, he squirmed .. to see if he could stop that from happening. But they had him firmly secured. He could feel the touch of strong hands between the tops of his legs. Tying a bag of rocks onto the cord biting into his ballsack. Determined Tarzan steeled himself. The priest knew he had not broken Tarzan’s spirit yet. Their Mzanka had failed appear. The priest was upping Tarzan’s ordeal. They’d do everything to persuade Mzanka to return.
Endless hours on that wheel .. stretched into near-joint-breaking agonies. Not enough. It had not done the job. Squeezed pitilessly by this heat .. helplessly strung-out .. merciless .. struggling to breathe .. agonisingly exposed to will-breaking heat .. mercilessly whipped by the rays of a heartless sun. Drained of sweat, drained of strength.
Still that had not been enough. That damned Mzanka was playing hard to get. This damned priest was upping his game.
Tarzan let go a grunt. A sound retched out of the depths of his tortured guts. The warrior had let go of the bag. The rocks swung off Tarzan’s nuts. He grimaced. His jaw clenched tight .. biting on his back teeth .. biting on the pain. Feeling the maddening swing of ponderous weight down between his legs. And the drag was only going to get worse. A tear of pain seeped out.
Tarzan gritted his teeth. Forcing a resolve into his guts. Swearing to himself. Cursing this damned priest. For all his chanting .. for all his efforts .. for all this torture .. Tarzan swore to himself that the scheming bastard would fail.
No way would he give. No way would he give in. Let them draw in their damned Mzanka. Let that damned Mzanka come and gloat over Tarzan. He’d give it that bastard! NO. He’d not give in.
Tarzan swore. And he meant it. Every word. Every fucking-cocksucking-motherfucking word.