Good Story, To Good Not To Share. Stuck Up Rich Gi free porn video

Kristen had whined the entire week before they left. She had whined and sulked during the plane flight, and was now whining, sulking, pouting, and occasionally snarling. Going on an African safari, far from chili dogs, pizza, MTV, and her friends, was not her idea of a holiday.

For once, though, her parents had held firm. They intended that this would be a good old fashioned family holiday, and were determined to enjoy it if it killed them, and her. No amount of whining, cajoling and beg- ging had managed to sway them.

Thus she was now standing on the runway in a baking heat, watching her father wave forlornly at bag- gage handlers who zipped by as if he were invisible. It was little wonder, what with the enormous amount of lug- gage sitting beside him.

Kristen herself was very far from invisible to the baggage handlers, as well as all the other bemused, astonished and wondering Africans within sight. If she noticed the stares, she gave not sign. She was, after all, used to be stared at, though not in quite the same way.

She was, as she well knew, a lovely, even stunning young woman. Her development had started early. Even when she was eleven years old, her physical maturity was such that she was taken for a girl several years older. She'd learned quickly that the men who looked at her so closely could be manipulated in a variety of ways to her benefit.

At eleven, that merely meant cooing and blinking her eyes. By twelve she was wearing tight or revealing clothes and positioning her body in such a way that older boys and even grown men would groan and flash carnal visual images in their minds.

By the time she'd turned thirteen, she was an expert at manipulation, at controlling and maneuvering men, using their weakness for her nubile teenage body to make soft jelly of their hearts and minds, and hard steel of their prongs.

She'd lost her cherry before entering high school, to a handsome teacher who'd responded by changing her F to an A. Usually she didn't have to actually sleep with them of course. A little cooing and sultry whispers, combined with a kiss or two sometimes did it.

For more difficult cases, she'd casually rub her- self against them, or let them cop a feel of her boobs, or crotch, and sometimes even jerked them off.

She'd gotten great grades in High School without having a particularly nimble mind, or studying hard. Others wondered about that, but as a leader of her peer group in school, few openly questioned her methods for academic achievement.

It was the same in college. She'd started just this year, and had found the college professors even more willing to come under her sway. The high school teachers had the added worry, first of arrest, and even after she passed the age of consent, of firing, if caught with her.

College teachers didn't really have to worry about that. Affairs between students and teachers weren't unusual. They could freely make use of what she offered in exchange for good grades, and not worry about consequences.

Now, as she stood on the runway, clad in her tight short shorts and her purple tank top that was cut off just below the breasts, she was the near perfection of a sexual creature. She didn't even have to try and pose anymore. Any position she took could automatically bring males organs to erection.

Her body was that of a goddess, perfect in it's Ivory Whiteness, gleaming with health. There was not a pimple, mole, or freckle anywhere on it. She was tall and effortlessly graceful, her movements that of a ballet dancer.

Her breasts were large enough to cause double takes, but not large enough to detract from the perfect symmetry of her shape. They were high and perfectly round and of a firmness few young women ever achieved, even during arousal. Her nipples were tiny pink nubs in the exact center of each breast, which, when hard, lengthened to an almost unnatural length, standing out hard and ultra sensitive.

Her legs were the kind that made men run into poles, so transfixed were they by the long gleaming contours of her perfect thighs, shapely calves and sweet and lovely knees.

Her ass would have won awards if such were given, and if she had ever deigned to enter any contest. It was the perfection other women longed for, had opera- tions for. Not an ounce of fat, not a hint of imper- fection marred her sweet and sumptuous buttocks. They were more perfect in their shape when she slouched in her sneakers than most women achieved in six inch heels and tightly shaping pants and jeans.

Her face was the profile of delicate loveliness. Her eyes were wide and bright, bright blue. When she wanted, they were the eyes of an appealing c***d. Within an instant they could turn sultry and wanton.

Her nose was a mere button, a little snub thing that made the women sigh and smile. Her mouth was nar- row and luscious, her lips full and sensuous, her teeth, brilliant white perfection. Taken as a whole, her face was enough to make grown men and women weep, the men with regret, that they would never know her intimate acquaintance, the women with amazed jealousy.

Her hair was the perfect frame for such a won- drously sculpted visage. It was chest long and as feathery soft and fleecy as the finest silk. At the same time, it was luxuriously thick, cascading around her head and splashing over her shoulders and down her chest and back like a lustrous waterfall halted in mid- fall.

All of these taken together drew lustful and en- vious stares and gasps wherever she went, and contri- buted to what was, admittedly, more than a hint of arrogance, haughtiness and vanity. Being rich always tended to draw people into immodesty. Being rich as well as stunningly, dazzlingly, ravishingly, gorgeous, gave her an ego hard to reign in, even on those odd occasions when she tried.

Of course, her luscious silhouette and mouth watering face were not the only reason she was drawing stares at the moment. The main point of attraction for the Africans was her hair, which was a bright, but not unattractive shade of pink.

If she had been aware of the amusement, or con- fusion her hair color was causing, she would have simply sniffed about the crudeness and lack of sophistication of the watchers, utterly certain that wherever in the world she happened to be, whatever she happened to be wearing was THE height of fashion, and that included hair coloring and style.

She was not aware of the bewildering looks though, since all her attention was focused on herself, and the unhappiness and uncomfortableness she was presently feeling. These were not things Kristen was normally forced to contend with.

Seldom in her short life had she been refused any pleasure, comfort or want, however fleeting or tran- sitory. Everywhere she went she was granted boons favors and generosity. At home, her slightest wish was her parents most important demand. Nothing was denied her.

Of course this went a long way to explaining her self indulgent nature, her selfishness and vain outlook on life. Kristen was about as spoiled as any human being that walked the face of the earth, and as shallow as a dried river bed.

Though she was far from stupid, an original thought had never crossed her pretty little mind. She followed the dictates of her social group to the letter, her every move governed by whatever happened to be "IN."

Now here she was sweating, SWEATING! In a sauna that was permissible, but out in the open, in her clothes, it was utterly intolerable.

"Dadddeeeeeeeeee," she whined. "Can't we go in- doors where it's air-conditioned?"

"The building isn't air-conditioned sweetheart. It's hotter than out here," he replied.

"Not air-conditioned?" She was truly amazed. In her experience all buildings were air-conditioned. What kind of a place was this?

"Ahhh, here comes our driver I think," her father sighed with relief.

Kristen turned to see a boxy looking car racing towards them in a cloud of dust. She squinted her eyes against the sun, then put her hand over her mouth as the thing drew up in front of them, hurling small pebbles and dirt all around.

"You Charles Taylor?" a voice demanded.

"I am."

"Righto."

A figure jumped out of the box and moved around to stand in front of them. Kristen looked up in disgust. The man was in his early thirties, tall, with coarse dark hair and weathery tanned skin, he wore a cheap brown short sleeved shirt and dark green pants tucked into boots, not even designer boots.

He was sort of handsome, in a rugged, cowboy type way, with a thick, barrel chest and enormous, biceps. His hands were big and rough from work, and his chest hair curled out through the half open shirt. Kristen wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"Pleased ta meet yah." The man said, holding out his big hand at Taylor. "I'm Joe Steel."

"How do you do?" Charles said, shaking hands. "This is my wife Lucy..."

"Charmed." Lucy said, waving her hand back and forth in front of her face to stir a little breeze.

"And my daughter Kristen."

"Hi there Kris." he grinned, his eyes sliding quickly and appreciatively up and down her body.

"Kristen." she said, stiffly, glaring in reproach.

It didn't do to let the help become to chummy to begin with, and nobody dared call her Kris.

With no further delay Joe had begun hefting their bags one and two at a time, and tossing them into the rear of the "Rover" as he called it. He showed not even a hint of effort at the heavy bags and was quickly done, whereupon he jumped into the drivers seat to await them.

Charles held open the rear door and Lucy and Kristen carefully stepped in.

"Don't you have air-conditioning?" she complained.

"You're joking?" He laughed. "Air-conditioning! What a laugh!" He then proceeded to laugh, long and hard, before stomping on the gas pedal. The three pas- sengers were thrown back against the weakly padded seats as the Rover bumped and bounced across the dirt field and out through the airport gate.

In a short length of time, they were driving through an incredibly dirty and tacky looking excuse for a city, with hordes of Black people wandering around aimlessly and shrieking in some ugly foreign language that Kristen knew wasn't French or Italian, the only two acceptable languages other than English.

"How far is the hotel?" She grumbled.

"Hotel? We ain't goin' to no hotel, gorgeous. We're heading right for the jungle. We'll pick up the rest of the gear in Bankoland, then head inland."

"You mean we'll be traveling in this?!" she de- manded in astonishment.

"That's it beautiful."

"But... but... but... we CAN'T travel in this!" she exclaimed.

He looked back at her in irritation. "And just what's wrong with this? This is a helluva fine machine, girl. It'll take you through damn near anything without stalling."

"How long do we have to be riding around in this thing?" She demanded.

"This is your ride for the duration, Princess." he grinned.

"Daddeeeeeeee!"

"Now look, precious, we could hardly travel in a Rolls in the middle of the jungle," he tried to placate her.

"Couldn't you get something that was at least air- conditioned!?"

"You'll never get acclimatized with air-condition- ing pinky." Joe grinned.

"What?"

"He means you won't get used to the heat, darling."

"I don't want to get used to the heat!" she stamp- ed her foot on the floor.

"You ain't got no choice there, pinky."

"Don't call me that!" she demanded, furiously.

He laughed, which did nothing to cool her temper. She folded her arms tightly, despite the heat, and sank back in her corner of the seat, determined to sulk un- til she was back home again. The Rover continued to bounce along until they reached a small village outside town.

There they stopped. There was six other four wheel drive vehicles there waiting. Joe looked at them in disbelief. "What in hell?" He jumped out and went to the waiting native drivers, chatting furiously.

"You told me to find everything on the list and bring it here with drivers." The man in charge said, shrugging.

"What in hell was on the friggin list?!" Joe de- manded. He poked his nose inside the rovers and jeeps, his face growing more and more incredulous.

Finally he came over to stand in front of Charles.

"Are you nuts?" he demanded.

"Excuse me?"

"What in hell is all this junk? You got furniture here, fer chrissake!"

"Yes, a few tables and chairs, and cots."

"Tables and chairs!"

"I suppose you've never sat in a chair or at a table." Kristen sniffed, disdainfully. Joe glared at her, then turned back to Taylor. "You have any idea what this is costing you?"

"Of course I know." Charles said with dignity.

"How about how long it's gonna take us to pack up and set down?"

"I'm sure they'll manage."

Joe closed his eyes and counted to ten.

"It's your funeral," he said before finally, stomping over to the other drivers.

"Really." Lucy said. "Couldn't you have found a better guide, Charles?"

"He is supposed to be the best, my dear."

"He smells badly." Kristen sulked.

"I dare say we'll all smell badly soon." Her father said, altogether too happily. Both women looked at him in disgust.

They bounced down dirt roads for several more hours, with the other cars riding along behind. They left the road then, going through the jungle on even more bouncy trails. Just when she was certain she couldn't take another minute, they stopped in a small clearing by a river.

"All right. We're here." Joe said in obvious re- lief. He almost dove out of the rover, moving as far away from Kristen as he could get. Never had he had to bear such a constant unending barrage of whining com- plaints, and snotty comments.

If she had known the fantasies he'd used to try and block her out for most of the afternoon, Kristen would have been outraged. In truth, they weren't all that different from most men's fantasies about her, except for being considerably more violent.

The dozen natives proceeded to set up the camp, which included two large tents, each ten feet by twelve feet and tall enough for a tall man to stand. Inside each they carried a large round plastic bathtub, which they set up in a curtained corner, along with the portable toilets.

They attached round curtain rods to the tubs, then put on the curtains. A pipe with a shower nozzle on the top was put into place, and a generator to power the pumps, along with other gear, was started up. One large vehicle was entirely filled with big drums of water, which were rolled over and attached to the pumps.

Joe sat on the front bumper of his Rover and watched in stunned amazement as the tubs, along with tables, chairs, benches and cots were all unloaded and brought into the tents. Each time Kristen saw him, she turned up her nose and sniffed in disdain. Joe imagined what a good sturdy leather belt would do to her round little behind.

The Taylors wandered around, enjoying the scenery, what there was of it no further than a dozen yards from the camp at least. Kristen accompanied her parents, shrugging and sniffing at everything they pointed out.

He's got a big campfire going, for the atmosphere, Charles had said, since of course they'd brought por- table propane stoves and lanterns for heat and light. The fire drew the only appreciative statement from Kristen Joe had heard all day. She'd allowed that it was "OK."

Soon after things were installed, the Taylors all retired to their tents and the pumps started up. Joe's mind filled with the image of the pink haired girl having a shower and despite his irritation at her, found his loins stirring.

Normally he wouldn't have dreamed of it, but the little bitch had been such a snotty little thing that he almost felt she owed him one, a look that is.

With nobody in sight, he unzipped the tent and poked his head inside, then walked in, poking his head out to be sure nobody had seen him. He moved across the room to the little curtained alcove, then looked inside.

The curtain that ran around the tub was in place and water pattered off it weakly. The pumps were only as good as the power source which had to be small enough to cart around. Still, a good spray of water enveloped the girl as she stood under it.

The plastic curtain was solid, and only her shadow showed through. Not a man to hesitate, Joe wandered across the few feet that separated it from him and pulled it aside slightly.

Her back was to him, and what a back! Despite his many experiences with women he had to swallow a sigh of appreciation. He shook his head as his eyes beheld her beautifully proportioned body, the lovely round swells of her buttocks and magnificent legs.

She turned and he let the curtains fall. Then opened them a crack. Her head was tilted back and her hands were rubbing shampoo through her long hair. He closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again. No, he hadn't been imagining.

"Good Christ!" he murmured, his voice easily covered by the sound of splashing water. What a body! His eyes lingered over her upturned breasts, looking even more golden and perfect as she u*********sly thrust her chest up and out.

Her belly was smooth and flat and looked like the softest thing on earth. Her damp pubic hair, she was a blonde, he saw, barely covered her dark little slit as she stood with legs slightly apart.

The water trickled off her gleaming wet skin, giving her a slick, oily look that set his heart pound- ing and his cock pulsing. It was all he could do to keep from jumping in and screwing her right then and there.

Luckily, he was a strong man mentally as well as physically. He backed away and stumbled out of the tent his eyes wide and dazed. No matter her personality flaws, he was going to have the little bitch if it was the last thing he did!

He set out to please her as soon as she returned from her shower. His attempts to curry favor and amuse her failed dismally however. She was used to men trying to charm and please her and was in no mood for it. Be- sides, he was as far from her type as it was possible to get without actually being ugly.

His smile became strained over the course of the evening, as his most gallant, courteous and congenial attempts to strike up friendship, or even a conversa- tion, failed dismally, shot down by snotty remarks, arrogant condescension and rude and brusque dismissals.

He was in a foul mood when he went to sleep that night. It didn't get any better the next day, as she repeated her whining and complaining to such an extent he was reduced to angry growls and snarls himself. When she haughtily summoned him to her tent that evening, he was in no mood to be pleasant.

Her constant sniveling had driven him to tear into his stash of brandy far sooner than normal, and he was ready to bite somebody's head off. None would be better than hers.

Kristen was wearing a light white designer shirt, that, because of the heat, she'd completely unbuttoned and then tied together below her braless breasts.

That her magnificent orbs were thus encased in two tight sacks that became translucent as she sweated, did not apparently occur to her, and if it had, she wouldn't have cared. Tormenting men, even ones she dis- liked was commonplace to her.

Her shorts were the kind of baggy, multi colored things currently in vogue in California, and looked preposterous here, but again, that didn't occur to her.

"What is it?" He almost snarled after pushing through her tent flap.

"This thing doesn't work." she complained, point- ing at the shower.

"So what do you want me to do about it?" She look- ed at him like he was exceedingly stupid.

"Fix it." She said, pronouncing each word careful- ly as she stared at him.

"It ain't my shower." He glared.

"You were hired by my father..."

"To guide you through the jungle. You want a plumber go and find one."

"How dare you!?" she glared in outrage.

"Oh stuff a sock in it." he snapped.

"When I tell my Daddy..."

"You can tell Daddy whatever the bleeding hell you want you silly little cunt. I'm tired of listening to your whining and bitching and complaining!" He moved right in front of her, staring down angrily from inches away. She backed up in consternation, but he kept mov- ing forward until she was backed against a table.

He jammed his face right up against hers. "Your shit don't stink! Do it?"

Kristen's eyes and mouth opened in amazement. No- body, but nobody had ever talked to her like this before.

"I... I... I..."

"Oh can it! I'm sick of listening to your whining voice!" He shoved his face even closer, forcing her to bend backwards across the table.

"You are the snottiest little ice maiden I've ever seen in my life! You and your Goddam bathtubs and God- dam CD player and your Goddam pink hair! What kind of a crazy wears pink hair anyway!?

"It... it's the latest s... style." she stuttered.

"Style! Ha! " He backed up slightly, his eyes glaring as he looked her up and down. "And your clothes. You wave your little ass around and show off your fat titties and then look down your nose at anyone that takes notice!"

He poked his nose in her face again, forcing her back. "What you really need is a hard belt across your dainty little rear end! Or better yet a good hard cock up your tight, cold little hole!"

Kristen gasped in shock, her skin flushing red in embarrassment and outrage.

"I bet for all your showin' off your still a stinking virgin!" he snarled.

"I... I am not!" she whined.

"Bullshit! I can't imagine you letting any man between those legs of yours!" He reached his hand down and cupped her left breast through the sweaty blouse. "The only one that's ever touched these are you!" He sneered, again putting his face right up against hers.

Kristen was now terrified. She was in a situation she'd never faced in her life. Someone didn't like her! Someone was being mean to her, yelling at her and call- ing her names. She didn't know how to deal with it and gaped at him in shock, not even trying to slap his hand away from her hot, sweaty breast.

"What about it, little Miss Ice Queen?" he smirked.

"Or are you a lesbo? That wouldn't surprise me. A man hating little homo!"

"A... am not!" she whimpered.

"Yeah?" He curled his lip into a sneer, then abruptly, jammed his big hand down the front of her shorts. The button tore off, popping across the tent as his hand forced into the thin garment. Kristen gasped again, her eyes staring down in shock.

Joe's hand slid right under her panties and cupped her bare flesh, squeezing up against her pussy mound. His eyes continued to stare into hers and as she looked up, she felt held there, her own eyes unable to pull away as his fingers began to rub up and down over her cunt.

Her breathing came faster and faster and her body experienced a different kind of heat. Joe's fingers slid into her body, pumping slowly as his big rough thumb rubbed back and forth across her clit. Kristen whined in protest, but held unmoving, her fearful eyes staring up into Joe's hard angry ones.

At first, she wasn't even aware of her awakened arousal. For despite her many sexual encounters, Kristen had had an orgasm only once. That was with a woman high school teacher when she was f******n. The woman had put her mouth down there and a feeling of such overwhelming pleasure had come over Kristen that it had frightened her.

She'd never allowed another woman's hands on her since then, for fear that she was in fact a homosexual, which, according to societies dictates, would have made her something less than perfect. Her trysts with men had been a cold sort of thing.

Mostly she just laid there and let them do as they wanted, a necessary evil for her to achieve something or other. She had moaned and groaned at the appropriate times, but seldom felt even an inkling of excitement herself. Her body was a tool to be used and admired, nothing else.

Most of her encounters in fact, had ended before actual intercourse. Kristen was skilled in overexciting me and then bringing them off either by hand or, if absolutely necessary, but mouth. She had only "gone all the way" half a dozen times, none of which had lasted more than a few minutes.

Now, the unaccustomed feelings coming from her crotch, combined with her flustered and fearful con- fusion towards Joe's confrontation and rudeness, left her in a floundering mental daze.

She half leaned, half sat back against the table, her legs slightly spread and her body bent back. Joe's hand continued to work away at her groin, which was responding with a tremendous wave of hot, tingling pleasure.

"Like that. Don't you baby?" he hissed, his lips pulled back into a snide, ugly smile.

He thrust his fingers harder and faster inside her now moist hot little pussy chamber. His thumb pressed down hard on her clitty, rasping across it with intense pressure.

Kristen was trembling and shaking, her body grip- ped by confusion and a sensual passion she did not know how to deal with. All she could do was continue to stare at Joe's face as his hand rubbed and pumped and squeezed down inside her shorts.

Then he growled, his left hand going behind her head and gripping a thick chunk of pink hair tightly. He jerked her head to one side, making her cry out, the cry, a low bird like chirp of confusion and fear. His mouth came down on hers, which was open anyway.

His tongue shot inside, rasping and whirling with- in her oral cavity. He held her tight against him, his hand rubbing roughly away at her crotch, his body pressing hers back against the table. The kiss was long, endless, when he withdrew, Kristen gasped, her chest heaving as she sought to draw breath.

Her eyes were wide and staring still as he pulled his hands free, grabbed the center of her tied blouse and tore it open, letting her hard swollen breasts drop out. His hands immediately captured them, cupping them from beneath, holding them up as his fingers kneaded the gleaming moist flesh.

His mouth descended, his lips sliding across her left nipple, then seizing, locking onto it. He chewed the nub as he sucked it into his mouth. Kristen moaned, a high pitched sound of bewilderment and negation. Joe drew his lips out, sucking the firm pink flesh.

Her nipple lengthened and expanded as it hardened, his lips enfolded the long stiff little bud as he ground them softly from side to side. He pulled away, then turned his attention to her right breast, her nip- ple, already hard and elongated, seemed to burn as his mouth enfolded it, and Kristen gave a shuddering moan.

"Oh!" she gasped. "Ohhhhhhhh! Ohhhhhhhh!"

Joe buried his face between her fat meaty mounds, squashing them in together from either side. His face rubbed up and down, then slid up along her throat, chewing and sucking until his lips locked on hers again. He held her tightly, his crotch grinding into hers.

His hand once again found her hair, twisting her head up and back for his lips. His right hand moved down and unzipped her shorts, then shoved, letting them fall to her ankles. Clad only in her thin silky bikini panties, Kristen found her legs u*********sly spreading.

Joe's hand slid inside, his fingers penetrating her sopping pussy, his thumb rubbing ruthlessly up and down on her hard clit. Kristen's groin humped against him as her body responded against her will. Her breath- ing was coming in short, harsh straining gasps.

She felt her body burning with a fiery heat. It was centered at her crotch and getting worse and worse. She was losing control of her muscles as her legs be- came weak and wobbly and her body trembled and shook alarmingly.

Then a roaring blast of hot blistering pleasure roared through her body, like an inferno it seemed to consume her very flesh as she convulsed in quivering, shuddering climax. Her hips humped out and down against Joe's sticky wet thrusting fingers and her legs parted widely, her body sitting back further on the table and her chest shoving out and up as her back arched.

Joe held tightly to her hair, fighting her body's jerking, humping, shaking contortions as he stared down at her gaping sightless face with deep satisfaction.

As her orgasm ended and her shaking subsided, he grabbed the panties and tore them right off, hurling them into a far corner. He shoved the girl back against the table until she lost her balance and fell back on it. His hands gripped her calves, shoving her legs wide, wide apart until her thighs ached with pain, the tendons strained alarmingly.

"Now you look good." he leered. "Now you're in the proper position." He abandoned her legs, his hands go- ing to his own shorts. "I'm gonna give you that ride you been asking for, sweetheart." he grunted, taking his raging erection out and pointing it at her gleaming wet cunt crack.

Kristen laid exhausted, her chest heaving. She stared up at him, her mouth gaping, her eyes wide. She didn't know what was happening to her, or even why. She watched as if in slow motion as Joe's big cock moved closer and closer to her crotch.

Then she felt it, felt it wet and rubbery and yet still hard as iron as it pierced her oily cuntlips and pushed into her sodden cunt tunnel. Almost instantly it reignited her arousal. She felt her cunt expand to take in the intruder, then clamp down hard, drawing it fur- ther inside.

It was bigger than most of the cocks she'd known, but her pussy had little difficulty accommodating it. Joe's hands came down on her legs, holding them wide, almost parallel to the table edge as he stuffed his hot fuck tool, balls deep into the twitching, shivering little pink haired teenager.

He jammed it in hard, then tore it back out and slammed it in again. A good hard ride he had promised and a good hard ride she would get. He used full steady strokes, but sent them hammering down into her body with bruising impact.

His hips slammed into her spread thighs and but- tocks with a meaty slap and a protesting creak from the table legs. His cock was a blurring piston as it rutted into the bewildered girl. Wave after wave of intense sexual fever washed over her, rendering her helpless and stunned.

When Joe let go of her legs to fasten his iron fingered hands around her meat swollen tit mounds, the force of his grip sent shock waves hurtling through her chest. It was as if her tits were bags of bubbling hot boiling sexual water and his hands had squeezed them flat, sending the liquid shooting into her body where it burned with maddening and agonized fervor.

Her body quaked, then rocked, her ass bounced up off the table without her willing it, then did it a second time. Her hands, resting on the table above her head, flopped and jerked and trembled, then her back arched with terrible force and she cried out in ecstatic release.

A loud groan of orgasmic satisfaction drifted out of the tent, causing the native porters to give each other knowing looks, but fortunately not reaching as far as the girl's parents, who were listening to a Brahms' symphony.

Kristen's head thrashed from side to side and her teeth gnashed as her body was gripped by an electric current that refused to let go. She shook furiously, her ass bouncing wildly on the table as Joe's hard boner continued to pound into her sizzling cunt chute.

"Yeah! Yeah! Go for it, baby!" Joe groaned, his cock flaring and steaming along it's entire length. His hands gripped her waist, almost completely encircling her tiny waist. He hauled her back and forth on the table like a rag doll, jerking her against his savage thrusts.

Then the girl's cum finally subsided. Her body's shaking eased into light trembling and twitching. He bent forward across her, his cock screaming in excite- ment as he kept pumping it to her. Then he came, his cock like a firehouse as it jetted boiling white scum down into her exhausted, languorous body.

He laid atop her panting, sweat covered body as they both recovered. Neither spoke. His cock softened within her and he slid it slowly out, watching her glistening cuntlips slowly close together once more. He reeled back a pace, his shaking hands pulling his spent cock back inside his pants and fastening them together.

He shook his head, then looked down at the girl, lying there in a semi-conscious daze, and staggered out of the tent. Kristen laid atop the table for long minutes, her legs still spread wide as the furnace be- tween them slowly cooled.

She raised her head wearily and looked around, then blinked slowly and with a groan, pulled her legs together and sat up. She shoved herself to a sitting position on the table, then eased off, almost falling as her rubbery legs failed to support her properly.

She was in a state of shock, her body and mind still staggered by the events they'd just experienced. It had been the first orgasm she'd experienced except by her own hand since f******n. It was certainly by far the most powerful.

As her mind cleared it turned more and more to how it had happened. How had she let that... that... that a****l turn her body into his own personal plaything? The kind of man that attracted her was smaller, hand- somer, well... prettier, she thought. She'd never liked the rough tough jock type.

How was it then that her body had responded to him as it had? She blushed as she remembered how she'd cum with his hand down her panties, rubbing her off like that. How humiliating! How could she!? She wobbled across the canvas floor to her bed and practically fell in.

She was mortified! How could she possibly face the man in the morning? It must have been the heat, she decided. The heat and boredom and some kind of weird a****l reflex on account of her being in the jungle like this. It wasn't her fault at all.

The next morning, Joe expected a change in per- sonality. He was surprised and angered when it didn't turn out. His pleasant greeting was greeted by a turned up nose and a sniff of disdain. Kristen was intent on pretending last night had never happened.

"sleep well?" he asked, slightly chastened.

"That is certainly none of your business, MISTER Steel," she said, contempt lacing every word.

"What's with you?"

"If I want to converse with you, which I doubt, I'll let you know." She sniffed, walking away. He glared after her in confusion.

Kristen tromped off into the bushes, her hands deep in the pockets of her knee length pink pants. Her bikini top was slightly too small for her perfect breasts, but then, all her tops were slightly too small. She glared around her, still upset by last night, and still not able to understand it.

She heard water and shifted direction towards it. A minute later, she came out on the bank of a swiftly moving river. She sat down on a stone and took off her shoes, dangling her feet in the water as she pondered the weakness her body had displayed.

Perhaps it wasn't her body at all, she thought. A man like that probably haunted whore houses and such. He must be greatly experienced in such things, though she would have thought he'd have been little better than a boorish slam-bam-thank-you-ma'am type.

She heard a strange sound and turned. Her eyes opened wide and she gasped in surprise and fear. A fat, round Black face stared back at her from a foot away. His eyes were equally wide as he beheld the strange looking beauty.

She screamed. He scrunched up his face and then put his hand over her mouth to stop it. His strong hands easily fended off her weak shoves and slaps and a quirky smile appeared on his face, then he scooped her up and carried her several yards upstream to his canoe.

He shoved the squirming girl down into the canoe, and with the speed and precision of a rodeo cowboy, had her hands behind her and bound tightly to her ankles within seconds. That done, he shoved the canoe out into the fast flowing water and paddled out into the center of the river.

The canoe raced downstream as Kristen squirmed around onto her side and gazed up at him. He was a nightmare come true. He wore only a loincloth, and his dark Black skin gleamed in the sun. A bracelet of some kind was around his upper arm, and another around his ankles. He wore no shoes and his feet were enormous.

Kristen wondered if she were to be eaten. He look- ed like the old pictures in the National Geographic she'd had to look at in Geography class. What was worse, sitting beside him in the handmade canoe, was a small ax and a bow. A knife was stuck into the side of his loincloth's belt.

Kristen quivered in fear, praying someone would rescue her before this savage cooked her for dinner or chopped off her head.

For his part, Mbinga, a member of the Bantu tribe, was more amused than anything. He'd never heard of a race that had pink hair before. In fact, he'd never even heard of the color pink.

Downstream was the rest of his hunting party and he was anticipating their own amusement and astonish- ment when he presented this strange looking female.

Joe was the first to arrive at the riverbank. He couldn't see any sign of Kristen, and first feared the idiot girl had fallen into the fast moving water and been carried away, then his eyes scanned the bank and saw the outline left by the canoe. He hastened over and examined the big footprints.

He took off his hat and wiped the sweat off his brows as the jungle resounded to the trampling sounds of the Taylors and some of the drivers. They were gonna love this, he thought with resignation. He turned and looked downstream. Well, that little girl is sure gonna get a lot of fucking now, whether she liked it or not.

He was more remorseful that it wouldn't be him do- ing it than that she'd get her little hole plugged. He had little fear for her life. The Bantu who inhabited this area might not be exactly civilized but they wouldn't kill anything as harmless as the pink haired teenager.

"What's going on!? Where's my daughter?" Charles cried as he burst through the bushes. Joe through out an arm and caught the man just before he fell into the river, dragging him back out from the waist deep water at once.

"Don't wanna be goin' in there, Mister Taylor. There's some pretty nasty types live in this water."

"Where's Kristen?" Lucy cried, arriving in front of several of the Black drivers.

"I'm afraid Kristen has gone for a little ride." He sighed. And I'm the one who's gonna have to go and fetch her back, he cursed inwardly. Silly little twat!

* *

Kristen's wrists were pinched tightly by the thin vines. Her shoulders ached from having her arms pulled so tightly back, and her hands were starting to go numb. Her ankles were in no better condition. The savage had tied her very tightly and efficiently.

Her clothes were soon soaked with river water, for the canoe, though well made for it's type, was not waterproof and an inch or so of water was always in the bottom.

Twenty minutes of paddling through the fast cur- rent landed the canoe in a small lake. The far bank held half a dozen canoes and Mbinga paddled across to them, calling out in the shrill sing-song greeting of the Bantu. There were answering calls from the eight men on the bank who were drying fish and skinning a boar.

Mbinga brought the canoe up against the bank, then jumped out and pulled it up after him. "Come see. Come see." he called excitedly. The others walked over to him as he lifted Kristen from the canoe and tossed her carelessly on the wet sand.

"What is this?" Contaw demanded, frowning.

"I found this strange looking female sitting alone by the river."

"Alone? A female?"

"She must have been banished from her tribe." Mbinga said.

"With hair like that, it is no wonder." Verwinti sniffed.

"What color is that, anyway?" Niyou asked.

"I do not know. I have never seen it's like."

"Perhaps she is marked by the Gods."

"Or the devil." another suggested.

"All females are marked by the devil."

There were knowing nods from most of the men at that. Counta's woman had cheated on him and bore him another's son.

"What do we do with it?" Niyou wondered.

"Are you sure it's female?"

"Of course it's female. Look at it's mammary's there," he responded, indignantly..

Counta pulled out his knife and carefully slit the vines binding the woman's wrists and legs together. He slid a hand under her right arm and hauled her erect, where she stood trembling and staring at them.

"What if she is a witch?" Niyou hissed. There were murmurs of worry and several made a warding sign against the devil. They stepped back from the girl, who's head kept whipping from side to side, staring at them all.

"Red is the color of witches," someone said!

"She is not red she is White."

"Her hair. Her hair is red!"

"That is not red."

"What is it if not red?"

"If she were a witch she would not allow Mbinga to capture her."

"Perhaps she wants us to bring her back to the village so she can ensorcel us all."

There were more warding gestures.

"I am sure she is not a witch," Mbinga said in- dignantly.

"We should leave her."

"But if she is a cast out female she will die."

"Let her."

"That is not an honorable thing to say."

"We can not take the chance."

"There is no chance in it." Mbinga said. "I will prove that she is no witch right here."

"How? You mean..."

"I will make use of her the way a man uses a woman. No witch can stand that for she would lose her powers."

"She will not let you." Banga said, making more warding signs.

"I tell you she is not witch." Mbinga said. He moved against the girl and before she could react, tore her bra top in half. Kristen squealed and closed her arms over her breasts, trying to back away.

"Watch out Mbinga." someone warned.

Mbinga twisted the female around and held her arm firmly, his hand reached for the strange garments she wore on her hips and pulled downwards.

They easily slid down over her well rounded hips. Mbinga paused a moment to admire the perfect tone of her White buttocks, then grabbed the shorts and pulled, causing the female to fall on her back as he jerked them up and off.

"She is calling out a spell!"

The others moved further back, except Randow who was braver than most.

"At least bind her so we might survive." Banga cried.

Kristen screamed and begged them to let her go, but they either ignored her or seemed to not under- stand. One of the natives stripped her naked and tossed her onto the ground. They were in a low clearing with dirt and a slight stubble of grass beneath her.

The two natives who hadn't backed off pulled her wrists to the ground. One of them held her right hand down while another picked up a rock and a foot long stick. Kristen screamed again, fearing they were about to drive it through her hand.

Instead the stake was driven deep into the ground. The second native tied a vine tightly around her wrist, then tied it to the vine. This was repeated with her other wrist, and her ankles, until Kristen was spread- eagled and tied securely, hardly able to move a limb.

"Look. Her hair is a different color between her legs!"

"Surely that means she is a devil."

"I am not worried." Mbinga said, for he had once lived in the city and did not believe in witches any longer. He pulled off his loincloth and pulled on his long flaccid penis, watching the female struggling use- lessly against the bindings.

She was not particularly attractive, though her hips were decently round and her breasts could feed many sons. He considered her too skinny though. The most attractive thing about her was her smooth un- blemished flesh. For despite varying skin tones, he had never seen anyone with such pure and flawless skin.

He skinned his fist up and down on his organ, squeezing his fingers tightly. His eyes slid up and down the female's body, admiring the perfection of the ivory skin. He knelt beside her, still rubbing on his organ. His other hand moved to her groin and squeezed. It certainly felt like a true woman's.

Kristen's arms and legs pulled frantically at the tight vines, despite the pain it caused her bare wrists and ankles. Her eyes were wild and terrified as the savage knelt beside her and then began pawing at her crotch.

She let out a sob of defeat as his hand squeezed her crotch, then slid slowly up and down her body, caressing her smooth flat belly, then the skin of her chest above and between her breasts. Finally his hand rolled up and down over her upthrust breasts, pausing atop each little hillock to fondle her nipples.

Her eyes kept flicking from his hand on her skin, his skin rougher even than that pig from last night, and his prick, which was rapidly hardening under his flicking fingers. Then he let go of it and positioned himself between her legs, falling forward on top of the hapless girl.

She groaned in disgust and revulsion, feeling his hard, sun baked flesh atop hers. His skin was coarse and rough as it pressed down on her firm rounded breasts, irritating them and rasping across her twin nipples. His cock was a hard bone like thing pressed against her belly.

Then the man jerked up on one elbow and grabbed his cock. He pressed the uncircumcised head against her cunt. Kristen was terrified of it. She had never seen or heard of an uncircumcised cock before and thought it must be some kind of mutant thing, as if the man wasn't even human.

It pushed against her cuntlips like a normal cock though, and she felt her lips yield under it's unre- lenting pressure. It moved inside her body as she jerked against the vines once more, helpless and sob- bing in misery and fear.

The cock pushed down deeper and deeper despite her tight squeezing of her pussy muscles. It rasped hard against her tight dry cunt as it moved in, bringing pain to her shaking body.

The man grunted and threw his hips forward, jam- ming another several inches of cock meat up into her belly. Kristen gave up resisting, she wept and let her head fall back, staring up at the sky as the man drove his cock fully into her body, his balls pressing against the underside of her buttocks as he sighed and rested atop her.

He pulled back almost immediately, then began a quick, forceful rutting against her crotch. Kristen grunted in pain as his long cock slid back and forth inside her pussy tunnel. The sky above gradually began to blot out as the other natives moved forward, some- what reassured now that she was no danger, now that Mbinga had deflowered her.

They watched intently, making sure it could not be some trick. Their eyes followed Mbinga's organ as it moved back and forth, sliding in and out of the female's love hole.

Kristen's breath was harsh and uneven as she slowed her sobbing. Her eyes were watery with tears and saw everything blurry. Her ankles ached as the native r****g her threw his hips against her crotch with a flurry of very hard thrusts, slamming her small, light body upwards against the bindings on her ankles.

Then he grunted in pleasure and came inside her. Kristen was as horrified as most women would have been if a dog or pig had cum inside her. She imagined the foul wet stuff burning away inside her belly, like some terrible acid.

"You see. I told you." Mbinga sighed.

"I will try and see." Niyou said.

"You do not think she could still be a witch." Mbinga accused.

"No." Niyou grinned. "But if you are going to sell her, I should find out how she rides first."

There were several laughs, though several men still looked worriedly.

Niyou knelt between the female's legs, his own organ already hard.

Kristen groaned in dismay as the second native climbed on top of her. She watched dully as his fat cock pushed against her pussy and then drove inside. This one was much more eager than the first. His hands roved across her body, squeezing and caressing her skin.

His hands folded atop her breasts as he held him- self fully inside her, and he began to fondle them roughly, then his mouth bent and he kissed her on the lips. Kristen almost threw up in disgust. She closed her teeth and lips tightly and turned her head away.

The native grabbed her pink hair, a move that brought ooohs of worry from some of the men watching. He held her head tightly and kissed her again, preven- ting her from shifting aside. Still, her lips and teeth remained tightly closed.

He cursed and backhanded her, knocking her head to one side. The Bantu did not tolerate defiance in women and certainly not in captured slaves, which was what Kristen was for the moment. He slapped her in the other direction, then backhanded her again.

She surrendered with a woeful sob and her mouth opened. Niyou's lips closed against hers and his tongue shot into her mouth. His hands slipped under her and clutched her round buttocks his nails sliding deeply into the tender, malleable flesh.

He resumed his wild pumping, his cock pounding in and out of her cunt tube so hard that her body was half lifted with each stroke. Kristen felt strange tastes in her mouth and wondered what manner of awful thing the savage ate.

Her cunt ached from the ferocious assault of his hammering cock tool. Her ass flesh was being squeezed and kneaded as he hauled her up against his downward thrusts. He humped against her fiercely, now raising up his chest and howling in glee. His body was arching backwards as his cock slammed deep into Kristen's body and spewed out it's load of hot white semen.

"Her love tunnel feels almost unused." he gasped to the others. "It is amazingly tight on my manhood."

Most of the women in the Bantu were heavy and their pussies were consequently larger than the com- paratively skinny girl now staked out on the grass.

The next native tore off his loincloth and dropped between her legs. Again, a hot male organ was driven deep into Kristen's body and the humping renewed. She closed her eyes, tears spilling down the sides of her face as she was ****d for the third time.

The sun blazed down overhead on the lewd and carnal scene, as one after the other, each of the nine men present got on top of the skinny White girl and used her body for their own pleasures. Mbinga then used her for a second time, to restate his ownership of her.

Finally, all were satisfied. They were satisfied not just in their lusts, but that the female was no threat. No witch could have any power after being rid- den so hard by so many Bantu men.

Kristen's arms and wrists were cut loose and the weary, miserable girl was hauled to her wobbly feet. Her hands were bound behind her once more, but her feet remained free as the natives put her aboard one of the canoes and set off down the river again.

Joe knelt and stared at the tracks in front of him. It had taken more than two days to get a motorboat and then find where the Bantu had come out of the river, and now all it showed was that they'd gone back in again soon after. He glared at the tracks in frus- tration.

Actually, the signs told more than just that. The stakes were still in the ground, and part of the vines were still attached. It didn't take a great deal of imagination to guess what had been tied down like that and why.

He let out a cold smile. He kind of wished he'd been there to see it. He was willing to bet the little bitch had gone nuts. He sighed again and walked back to the boat, waving the pilot to start up again. He hadn't brought a lot of men. He knew he wouldn't have to take Kristen back by force.

The Bantu sold their captives and he had more than enough to outbid anyone else for her, at least, anyone among the tribe. The motorboat eased back into the river and then shot forward.

He cursed again, how was he even supposed to find the proper village anyway? There were scores of Bantu villages around here. He just hoped he got her before she was pregnant. If that happened and the Bantu became aware of it they wouldn't part with her until the brat was dropped.

-=*=-

After two more hours on the river, the canoes slowly pulled ashore. There were a number of other canoes there and the natives pulled out all their canoes and rested them alongside the others. None of the vessels belonged to any one village, they were shared by those who happened to want them at a par- ticular time on a first-come-first-served basis.

After overturning the canoes, they set out down a narrow trail that became almost imperceptible after a hundred paces. Kristen was dragged along behind them, still completely naked and her wrists still tied behind her.

Mbinga tied a long vine around her throat and led her behind him exactly as if she were a goat. A goat however, would have been much more sure footed.

Kristen had difficulty almost from the start. The natives set off on a natural pace that ate up the miles rapidly. For her it was almost impossible to keep up. Another problem was her bare feet. The natives had no need of shoes. Their soles were hardened from years of walking.

Kristen kept stepping on rocks and pebbles and sharp twigs. She hopped and whined and cried out in soreness. Mbinga kept tugging on the rope to encourage her onward but she kept falling in pain. Finally the column stopped and Mbinga went back in exasperation to examine her feet.

One examination told him that her feet were like the soft city people. He could not understand this since she hadn't been wearing any footwear when he'd captured her. Nevertheless, he hauled out a long strip of hide and bound it around her right foot, doing the same with the other.

They set off again, her feet now somewhat protect- ed. Still, Kristen kept falling back. She was panting exhausted within a few minutes and dragging back on the vine. Mbinga glared back in irritation, then handed the line to Cowqe.

Cowqe pulled the female on while Mbinga drifted back behind her. He picked up a light stick a foot long from the bush and began smacking it down on her round ass cheeks whenever it looked like she was lagging be- hind. Each whack produced a satisfying burst of speed, as well as a yelp of pain. The stick would not damage her perfect skin, for he knew that would be the main selling point of this girl, that and her tight love hole. The girl fell back again and he whipped the cane across her ass again, making her cry out and run faster.

Kristen would have wept in misery but she had no breath for it. Her chest burned and ached as she trot- ted along behind the natives. Every time she slowed the one behind slashed his hard stick against her behind. She yelped again as the stick descended.

She was getting dizzy and lightheaded as her pain numbed body neared the end of it's resources. No mat- ter what Mbinga did she would have to slow down.

Mbinga slapped at her behind again, then again and again, and again, soon making the entire area red with pain and soreness. The girl kept yelping, yet did not increase speed significantly and then not at all. In fact she was slowing down further. Mbinga growled and whipped her harder.

Kristen gave a final panting gasp and fell forward into the grass. The natives halted and Mbinga came up to stand over her frowning. She would not bring such a good price if she were indeed this weak. He reached down and grabbed her by her long thick hair and jerked her up to her knees, holding her there despite her best efforts to collapse.

"It is no use. We will have to wait for her to rest." He told the others.

"But we have long to go, Mbinga."

"We can not rest this soon, else it will take us days to reach home."

"Then we must carry her." Mbinga shrugged.

"Only if we share in her price."

He frowned angrily, then tugged viciously on the vine, making the sweating girl choke briefly.

"All right then." he agreed, sullenly, all his visions of profits tainted by the weakness of this fe- male.

Niyou and Counta chopped down a tall bamboo and skinned it quickly, as Mbinga and Contaw rebound her wrists and ankles in front of her. The pole, about eight feet long, was then thrust between her arms and legs. Mbinga and Counta took the first shift, lifting her off the ground and setting the pole on their shoulders.

They set out once again, Kristen bouncing beneath the pole, her wrists and ankles burning with pain as her weight hung suspended from them. They ignored her complaints, continuing their unhurried, ground eating pace for long hours.

Kristen gradually lost the feeling in her wrists and ankles and a numbness set in around them. Her head bounced and jerked as she moved through the grasses, her tangled hair sometimes covering her face com- pletely. She fell in and out of consciousness, her body utterly drained by the day's events.

Then the natives cut across a miles wide grass- land. Kristen's body, carried along only a foot or so above the ground, slid through a near continuous wave of tall grasses. They slid like coarse feathers against her upper thighs and buttocks, then downward across her cunt, and down off her as she passed over them.

Her ass felt as if an endless revolving brush was rubbing across her entire nether area. Her cunt, peer- ing out from between her legs, was especially sensitive to the continuous sliding caress of the grasses. It began to tingle at the light massage.

Slowly, with Kristen totally unaware of it, her body became aroused. Her mind, what was left conscious of it, was too caught up in her own misery to even notice. Still, her cunt soon sizzled and burned and itched with need, providing yet another source of pro- found aching in her young body.

The tingling grew greater and greater, the r****g caress of the grasses making her ass jerk and tremble instinctively. She needed something, needed relief, needed something more than these light constant, end- less rubbing stalks.

She moaned, then moaned louder. Her delirious body jerked and jumped on the pole. Her eyes fluttered open and closed and she whined in seeming pain. The two natives carrying her stopped, calling to their com- rades. They set her down and peered at her uncertainly, wondering what was the matter.

Mbinga hurried back, glaring down at the woman and beginning to wish he'd never taken her. "What is the matter with her now?" he sighed. They pulled the pole free from her, leaving her on her back. The girl's eyes were closed and she gave no sign of the source of her pain.

"Perhaps the bindings are too tight." Niyou ven- tured.

Then the girl's bound hands slid downward into her crotch. Instantly her behind humped upward against her hands and her fingers pushed into her love hole. The watching men stared in amazement. "What is she doing?" Rayogh wondered.

Mbinga knelt beside her and pulled her hands away, jamming his own between her crotch. Again, she shot her behind upward, arching her back and moaning loudly. His hand came away sopping wet. He held it up to the others with astonishment and happiness. This sign of her heat would definitely increase her price.

"She needs a man's organ in her hole." he said.

"That is a wondrous thing indeed." Ghougumba said, shaking his head.

"Perhaps it is this way with these people." Niyou said. "Perhaps their females need a man's organ every few hours or else are in pain."

"I envy their men." Counta said, causing laughter.

"Well, I will take care of her." Mbinga said.

"I will help if you like." Niyou said.

"I am sure I can sate her fires." Mbinga replied with dignity.

He turned the girl over onto her belly and hauled her up off the ground so she was kneeling on all fours. Her arms promptly gave way and her head and shoulders sank back to the ground. Mbinga knelt behind her and brought his organ out from his loincloth.

He didn't bother to undo her wrists, but cut away the bindings on her ankles and spread her legs apart. Now her knees started to give way. His hands slid around her waist and held her steady for a moment, then, holding her with one arm, he used his other hand to place his organ against her tight and very wet love hole.

He replaced his grip on the female's waist, then thrust forward hard. The girl yowled like a kicked dog. Her head shot up and her back arched and then she shuddered all over. Before the startled Mbinga could move she began rutting furiously back against his organ, humping her ass with a bizarre desperation.

He began to respond in kind, pounding his groin against her behind with eager desire. Her love hole sucked and slurped at his organ more than any he had ever plumbed. He could not withhold his white love juice from her as his body shook and she sucked out all of his seed.

Counta moved in at once and he sheathed his own organ in her spasming love hole. He humped like a mad dog, shooting off inside her in seconds before being replaced by Niyou. He took her with long, hard thrusts that drove her from her knees.

His big hands kept hauling her back up to meet his strokes and all there saw the White female's body trem- ble all over once again as grunts of pleasure came from her pretty lips.

The tribesmen continued to sheath their sabers in the girl long after her body spent itself and knelt, then laid unmoving. Finally, they lifted her on the poles again and carried her a few more miles before camping for the night by a stream.

-=*=-

Joe had finally found where they'd come out of the river, at the communal fishing point for the long neck bands. That was some help but not much. There were over fifty separate villages on that side of the Reboogie river that made use of this spot.

He was forced to wander inland, instantly losing their trail amongst the scores of others that had wan- dered up and down here in the past two days. There was nothing he could do but visit each of the villages and hope that she was in one of the closer ones.

If she wasn't then he was in trouble. The further villages were much more war like. They had to be for they vied with the Pouta tribes in that area. The Pouta tribes were extremely dangerous, especially to White men.

He moved down the trail, accompanied by his three bearers. He knew though, that they'd abandon him if they came close to the Pouta areas. None wished to be eviscerated by the angry tribes of the north.

-=*=-

It was night. The sound of crickets and other night insects filled the air. The tribesmen knew the insects as their friends, their guards through the night. For if ought approached the insects would cease their song to tell them of danger.

They sat quietly around their small fire, speaking in low voices. Some ate quietly, gulping down tough pieces of dried meat. In a corner, Kristen sat, propped against a tree. She was conscious now, though not greatly alert. Her wrists were bound behind the tree and her head lolled forward.

She shivered with cold for the air had chilled with the loss of light. Her dull eyes gazed bleakly around at the savages sprawled about her and she started to wonder not if, but whether she would ever return home. She wept silently, feeling immensely sorry for herself and cursing everyone and everything that had brought her to this place.

Her dreams were f