When Tarzan had seen the look of astonishment on the chief’s face .. he was ready for retaliation. Everything he’d endured at these bastards’ hands .. he should have known. These were not men you messed with. That stern-faced ambitious chief .. he knew what he wanted, he took it by force.
Snarling defiance. All he’d known of them, seen, suffered .. he expected the chief to lash out. In frustration. Angered at Tarzan’s hardiness. Frustrated that their precious Mzanka had turned their back on them. Furious that for all straining efforts, they were getting nowhere.
And this damned seed-slave was stood laughing in their faces. Days of trying to attract their Mzanka back had got them nowhere. Thanks to Tarzan’s obstinacy. His toughness. His pig-headedness. Tarzan should have expected the chief to lash out. The chief’s way of proving to himself that Tarzan had got them all wrong.
The chief’s astonishment had turned into a scowl, anger. But then the chief broke into a grin. Tarzan saw him stab his elbow into the priest’s ribs.
Tarzan heard the chief laugh at the priest.
Tarzan bristled through his exhaustion. Seeing the chief’s look of satisfaction.
“What better to offer Mzanka?”
The chief nodded for Tarzan to be cut down.
“King of the jungle. Never gives up fighting back. PERFECT!”
He hadn’t expected food. He was desperate for water. But Tarzan wouldn’t have expected anything. The Untula warriors cut him down. They leant his back up against the stake and gave him a bowl of water. Suspecting it might be a trick .. sceptically wondering if it was drugged .. Tarzan still grabbed at it. Gulped it down .. much spilling down his front. But another bowl was there. Tarzan knocked back three bowlfuls without registering. When a bowl of stew was handed him .. surprised he laid the water bowl to his side and dug into the meal. Rich in meat .. full of herby flavour. Maybe too rich for his tortured body .. but mindless Tarzan wolfed it down.
Tarzan registered. The Untula did not want him dead. At least not yet. But food would build up his strength. Water would clear his head.
Wright? What had happened to Wright? In days, battling against their weakening torture, Tarzan had had little chance to even contemplate the criminal he had hunted down? The fool who had led Tarzan into this mess. Not laid an eye on him in hours and days. He had been made to watch when the Untula had drained him dry of his man-seed .. to be mixed into a brew to fortify the Untula’s warrior strength. Tarzan had not spotted him since.
Were they still working on him? Was that his fate? Was he to be used forever like that?
Did Tarzan care? With every tug Wright’s red-sore cock .. wincing, hissing out in pain. Did he give a toss whether Wright lived out the rest of his life being pumped dry? Wright suffering a lifetime of men carelessly yanking on him till, crying out at the soreness, they emptied another load into some gourd.
Did Tarzan care? He had more to worry about. Whatever the Untula chose to do by Wright .. it was less than the bastard deserved. Jungle justice. Just what Wright had coming to him.
Tarzan knew he and the Untula had more pressing concerns. He wasn’t stupid. They hadn’t fed him for the good of his health. The plentiful bowls of revitalising water was to keep his body functioning. They were going for more …..