Thrives on suffering
“Hear. Mighty Mzanka. This suffering cries out to you.”
That damned droning started again. This time the priest was stood right before Tarzan’s head. His droning-on a further provocation. Making an already angry Tarzan incensed.
“Come, Mzanka. Great spirit. See the sacrifice we proffer.”
Tarzan froze. The thing he had dreaded. Back at his back passage, that pressure again. The club was being pushed back in. It took only seconds to have his most dread thoughts confirmed. The sensitive skin at his entrance began to burn. From the touch of the club. From the flames of the evil goo.
The chief was himself supervising the assault. Mounted over his captive .. on the great wheel. Having Tarzan raped. His men assaulting him afresh with the club. His back passage well-greased. The menace of the club now coated with fiery goo. Slicking easily back into his slick back passage. Burning as it penetrated. Resistance impossible. Suffering unspeakable.
The club slid in easily. Fiery heat tore through any fight. The heat battling his defiance back. The fires of agony destroying every defence. Slowly. Incinerating to cinders every resistance. Every inch gained pouring oil on the fires. Burning through stubbornness.
Ragged cries of dismay called out to Mzanka. Drawn to anguish. Thriving on suffering. Did a slave’s misery ever call out in such distress?
“Mzanka. God of war. Inspiration of fighting men. We call on you. See. This mighty offering. King of the jungle.”
Tarzan’s mind burst into flames. Panic flooded his veins. Alarm at the thought. His innards had been well-greased. The muscles there had been stretched. Open to easy assault from an evil pepper-coated club.
“Feed on this. Take to yourself this might fighting spirit. Beyond compare among earthly men.”
That damned droning irritated. This flattery a sham. The damned priest’s words mocking Tarzan’s desperate fight.
“Deign to accept this offering we bring. Offered to you. Offered to serve.”
The club end had penetrated his first inches. The heat in his innards were growing. The dread in his pounding heart was already fanning those first flames.
“Come. Show us this sacrifice pleases. King of the jungle. Is anything more worthy? See. Hear. The King of the jungle offered to serve. Fill him with your fiery rod. Fuel your spirit with his cries.”
As if in harmony, the priest heard a first hissing cry above his head. This Tarzan was feeling the heat.
Above his head the priest heard struggles of desperation. He sensed the growing dismay as the fires inside attacked the slave’s stubborn will. He saw the head writhing as heat filled out his inner guts. Fuelled by the moans, the priest increased his pleas to their god.
“Mzanka. Giver of victory in war. Bless this loyal tribe with your fiery spirit once more.”
He heard a long groan. Broken by hisses. Punctuated by sharp grunts. A groan that grew into a sustained cry. A call of despair. The sacrifice fired up by the pepper in his guts. When accepted .. once sacrificed .. Mzanka would probe those innards with a fearsome rod of a fiery god. Doing formidable violence on his innards. Scorched by the massive cock of an awesome god. Days without end .. in the spirit world. Serving as body-slave of a ferocious god. Tarzan’s suffering would be endless. Without end. Body-servant to Mzanka .. destined to serve a god’s every carnal need. Forever-and-a-day.
The torso above the priest’s head seemed rigid with pain. Yet the head thrashed madly from side-to-side. His mind fighting a battle he could not hope to win.
“Attend our sacrifice, we implore you. Attend the day of sacrifice. When the last living breath is choked out of him. This body .. immaculate, strong, tough .. offered to honour you. King of the jungle. Mzanka, great god. Attend his day of sacrifice.”
Above his head, the priest saw the powerful muscles freeze. Then a pained cry flooded over his head. Like he was being washed in agonised air.
“Great Mzanka. Great god. This King offered to serve. This body offered for you. King of the jungle. To use as you will.”