Was it twenty years? Since he’d been in these cellars? When she’d kept a younger him locked in a hole underground, for days. Never seeing the light of day. Because Tarzan had disappointed. He’d dropped out the idea that it was time to move on.
La thought otherwise. Had him imprisoned. She was not letting him go. Any idea of him leaving earned Tarzan punishment, deservedly. Tortured. For even daring to think about leaving her in the lurch. For wanting life. For wishing his freedom.
Tarzan was young. He’d chanced on Opar. He’d fallen in with La. She’d lured him into his bed. Tarzan was not inexperienced, far from it. But La had driven him out of his mind. They’d coupled, they’d gone at it hammer-and-tongs. For mad passionate weeks.
But even the fires of raging passion ebbed. There was a whole world out there. Tarzan had never known such a lust for life as between La’s thighs. But his whole life was not going to be fulfilled down there. He was man enough to know .. it had been glorious, mind-blowing. But the horizons out there spread further than the limits of La’s loins. He had tired. He had lusted to go on his way.
Mistake. Fatal mistake. He had confessed his ideas. He had told La his thoughts. She had had other ideas.
La had decided Tarzan was not leaving. Not on those terms. More precisely, he’d never have his freedom again. He was to be her slave, her plaything. A toy that she’d use whenever the black side of her nature wanted to come out to play. And to Tarzan, her prisoner, that had seemed to be frequently. Too often.
He’d no idea how many days or weeks she’d toyed with him, he’d never seen the light of day. All the time fearing .. when she’d tired of him .. he’d end up her blood sacrifice.
First chance he’d got, he fled. And Tarzan had never looked back. He’d never wanted to meet the black side of La again.
The very idea ……! Leaving her. That wouldn’t be. When they came for him, hauling him out of the pit …. it was three of them against him. Three full-grown-men. Tarzan knew them from her temple guards, fiercely loyal to her. Obeyed her every whim, no hesitation, in every detail. His youthful physique didn’t stand a chance against three muscled guards. But that didn’t stop him from putting up a fight.
She kept him deep under the temple, locked in an underground hole. When the muscular guards came for him, Tarzan had known it was not to send him on his way. Her counter-move for Tarzan suggesting he’d be moving on was about to begin.
Was there still a chance? Could Tarzan still persuade her it was just a joke? But the sight of her disabled his intentions. As she knew it would. La awaited him in the torture room. Dressed in the skimpiest covering, to arouse his senses, her top sheer, see-through. Deliberately. Revealing her all. Her appearance mocking him. He wanted to leave THIS? A vision of sexual lust that looked like this good! She looked breath-taking. But there was not a chance Tarzan would benefit from those attributes in anyway. He’d declared his intentions. She was flaunting hers. Taunting him with the delights he’d planned on turning his back on.
He struggled, he fought. But three full grown men had his back thrown down on a large flat carved stone. For a second Tarzan thought of La’s ceremonies. The blood sacrifices. Pinned down on a stone of sacrifice, he redoubled his struggles. A fist slammed down into his guts. So hard it felt like it could drive his backbone through into the stone. Young Tarzan yelled out. Pain in his belly emptied his chest of all its wind.
When he’d got his breath back, he was already secured .. on his back, arms secured, his knees spread, feet pinned down either side of the stone. His legs open, that groin he’d thought of denying her .. vulnerable. La had watched his futile struggling from the side. Indifferent, no emotion showing on her face. Fearful of what she intended, Tarzan turned his head to her. With some panic in his eyes, fearing this position like her sacrifice, he pleaded.
“La. A misunderstanding. I only suggested. Perhaps it was time to travel, to look around ….. See more of your land. I’d have come back.”
He was lying. And she knew it. She just stared coldly into his face.
Tarzan was distracted. A guard had grabbed hold of Tarzan’s cock. He gasped, he looked over his pinned-down chest. He hadn’t realized he was naked. In the struggles someone had also pulled away the skimpy loincloth La liked to see him in. The guard had discarded it. The brute had a pot of pig grease and with the other he was greasing up Tarzan’s cock. Vigorously, none of the gentle moments Tarzan had known from La’s hand.
A man’s hand on him. Rough movements. Not the prelude to a passionate night of one-to-one sex alone with La.
“Please ….” Tarzan feared the coldness of La’s features. “Remember ….”
He was cut short.
“Shut his mouth.”
When Tarzan resisted that his own loincloth being stuffed in his mouth, another thump of a determined fist emptied his muscled guts of wind. He was gagged with his own covering, cord around the back of his neck tying it in place. And through all the time of his struggles .. indifferent to the punching beating up his insides .. without any hesitation, the guard’s hand carried on smothering his cock with pig grease. Roughly stroking it up and down his shaft. Young Tarzan got easily hard.