The fucker had it coming. The way he’d glared back at Whitney .. standing up to him. The smell he gave off .. a warning sign .. not a fucker to buckle-under. Whitney ran a tight ship here. The guys knew not to tolerate indiscipline. Any sign of a slave getting out of line ….. they got it in the arse.
This fucker, the white-savage …. Whitney could tell. He was going to be a bundle of trouble. No point in fucking around. The prick would get the message from the get-go. Fuck Whitney around …. and the fucker paid the price. Zinging on his muscled hide.
It’d take more than once …. Whitney didn’t fool himself. He was that kind of pig-headed prick. And they’d have to lay it on good-and-thick. Beat the shit out of him. Give the fucker hell till he collapsed. He’d fight. He’d try to hold it in. The guys would have to keep at him till he buckled .. passed out.
Wouldn’t do any harm either …… These farmer-slaves ….. they probably thought they had their saviour in their midst. He had made a name for himself. Those black savages were secretly thanking their lucky stars .. the jungle legend was here with them. Here to save the day. Rescue their stinking black hides.
It couldn’t do any harm to watch. And see how wrong they were.
“Don’t want you scumbags getting the wrong ideas ….”
Whitney’s swishing with the heavy rubber strap went on unabated. From his position of vulnerability, facing the line of men .. they were still tucking into their bowls of stew .. Tarzan saw every man’s eyes were on that menace of the waggling strap. And looking beyond the strap at its helpless victim behind. Seeing Tarzan, knowing he was going to get it. Knowing some time in the future it could be them. But content for now it wasn’t. Tarzan was up for it, not them .. thank God!
“Some of you were warriors in your tribe, champions, looked up to.”
Whitney gave the strap a hard shake. It swung ponderously up and down in the air. Testimony to its density. He made sure it waggled in the direction of the big black brute.
“Forget it. Here … You’re all scum.”
Tarzan spotted Wanaga scowl.
“Some might have held a special place …..”
He heard Whitney carry on. Clearly talking to the slave-catcher. Tarzan saw Wanaga’s face seethe. Whitney’s strap had singled him out. One-time these slavers’ partner. He’d delivered these men seated here into slavery for this mob. But then he’d got too big for his boots.
“Others might have been looked up to. Men who’d made a name for themselves ……”
The rubber cosh-like strap pointed out Tarzan.
Whitney’s eyes turned on Tarzan. His eyes drilled the message into Tarzan’s face.
“Here ….. just scum like the rest of them …..”
Tarzan glanced away from Whitney .. as if to ignore his warning. His eyes alighted Wanaga. The slave-catcher exuded fury. Helpless. But when he saw Tarzan looking at him, his face changed. He grinned. He winked. Reminding Tarzan it wasn’t Wanaga secured under this frame.
Things would change. If the situation arose, Tarzan would make sure these fresh slaves would take Wanaga apart. Out of revenge. Payback for condemning them to this. And would Whitney beat them off? Would Whitney step in? Who could tell?
But for now, the slave-catcher could afford to grin. His old rival was about to be made an example of. And it would be no picnic.
“And … ‘ case you get the idea that college-boys don’t have to pull their weight …..?”
Whitney’s strap turned on Cody. Tarzan was pleased to see Cody too tightened his jaw. Showing he was not intimidated.
“ …. ‘case you think schooling can protect your arse ….. that this strap’s only meant for ignorant black savages ……? My advice ….. don’t be a fuckhead.”
Cody glared. Tarzan was pleased to see his friend’s backbone. They’d both need that if they were to get away.
Whitney strode to Tarzan, hands tied helpless out of the way above his head, bound and vulnerable under their punishment frame.
“Just to prove it …. No one’s different here. Everyone’s equal … no special privileges …..”
The cosh passed the length of Tarzan’s chest. Sliding down the ridge between plates of chest muscle elongated by his raised arms.
“Everyone’s scum ….. Black savages. College-boys. Slave-catchers ……”
Whitney winked at Cody.
“We make no differences. White-men even ……“
The cosh tapped lightly at the defined muscle in Tarzan’s caved in belly.
“Our white savage here has been volunteered to make the point.”
No special privileges. Only special treatment. Getting singled out.