At one point .. amid the wild thrashing of his body busting to break free of these bonds that held him down .. his head spinning .. his guts on fire .. even through the agonising torments that had him writhing .. that fuelled the sharp cries of torture blasting from his throat .. even then Korak had a moment of hope.
The pressure that was pushing up his backside .. the weight of the shaman’s hand keeping his torture tool rammed up Korak’s arse .. the pressure lessened. It was pulling back. That monstrous cock was being dragged out of his arse.
Had the goo done its trick? It had turned Korak’s proud young-man’s muscle into a squirming morass of helplessness. Was the job over? It had conquered that muscled back. It had squarely defeated the power of Korak’s shredded shoulders. The fight had been crushed out of him. It was being withdrawn. Thank-the-fuck! That fucking horror had been pulled out.
Inside he burned still. Someone had thrown petrol on the flames. Tears of pain streaked off his face and splattered heavy on to the stone. Korak was on fire. So hot, tears ran, he couldn’t see. The heat so intense, hard to breathe, it was like choking on smoke. His guts had had searing torches jammed up into them.
But the shame of a coarsely carved wooden cock was being taken out of his arse. In time, he could see, the burning would lessen. With the goo gone, wouldn’t that searing pain in his guts diminish?
Like swallowing a hot chilli .. eventually the time came when the throat no longer burned. It had gone. That fucking goo-tool had been pulled out.
But he should have known better. It had been re-charged. That fucker of a shaman … he had just taken it out to dip it back in the bowl. Just as Korak’s guts were daring a secret whoop of joy, a hand supported itself on his backside. He felt something hard touch his arsehole. And before his head could overcome his false yell of joy, that evil monster was being forced up him again. Rammed hard into him. Scraping its evil way over the flesh inside that had been scorched red-raw.
He yelled. Shock. Disappointment. Searing pain. It hit him .. too late. He should have known. Fresh stinging goo was coating his tortured arse-flesh inside. The heat of panic flooded his insides. His back channel .. scraped raw by red-hot goo .. it was getting a second coat! THAT FUCKER!
His cry of dismay coincided with the first blast of heat. His gasp of distress was expelled with a fresh whoosh of scorching energy blasting through his guts. Cries of disappointment accelerated into shrieks of torture ricocheting inside his body. He was on fire. His guts aflame. Tortured by fire .. burning from the inside out. He screamed. He let go a chilling howl of agony and despair.
Curses broke like wildfire out of his mouth. His obscenities did not ease the pain .. nowhere near. Searing pain in his chest clashing in his head. Burning energy melted like metal in a fire of agony. It was overwhelming. Korak was screaming like an animal. Writhing like a wounded beast in its death throes. He was screaming. No words. Just sounds that shrieked out in anguish.
It felt like the rock beneath him was swallowing him whole. Gulping him down into a fiery inferno below. Dismay twisted relentless into despair. The rock was sucking the life out of him. The agonies scorching him alive burning every trace of fight out of him. His whole body shook in an agonised moan. A giant sob of dismay for his soul. The fires inside taking a hold on his strength .. squeezing him dry. Draining from him the will to live. A zombie. Like Nguana.
At first these experiences with the tribe had embarrassed him .. forced to undergo punishment in front of the vengeful tribe. Beaten. Raped. What mortified Korak was them seeing him humiliated .. his pride crushed .. his spirit broken.
Humiliated by their power over him. Now all around him voices were cheering his suffering. Observing he could not bear anymore. Jeering at how he cried out. How he could not bear their pain. His agonies turned into an object of their ridicule, laughter, jokes. Rejoicing in his horror. Cruel!
Tortured. Fearing that his manly spirit was plummeting downwards. To hit smashed on the earth. Splattered on the hard truth of reality. Each second he asked if he could go on with it. Could he bear any more of their callousness? But the crushing answer was always the same. No option. This would go on. On and on. Until they stopped it. The son of Tarzan, the violator .. dishonoured. Disgraced.
The world transformed into an inferno as the fiery flood of agony closed over him. His senses smothering as he sank beneath the scorching flames. He had let the first scream escape his throat. The rest followed relentless on. Sharp-pitched cries painted with his despair. Once the first were released …. he could not stop the others from following. Korak screamed once. He screamed again. He could not stop. No stopping their agonies. Again and again.
Korak’s despair heard nothing but his terrors. His head was full of the din of torture. His ears blocked by the pressure of his own screams. Oblivious to the slow chant that surrounded him. In unison, the tribe spoke out their litany of hate. Quiet. Hate-filled but a joint hatred for this violator who had dared. A slow menacing chant offered to their gods.
Pain. Shame. Regrets