bandits · web viewit was an ingenious idea she had brought. raoul had known his father would not...

River Pirates

Contents

Bandits...................................................................................3

Distraught...............................................................................7

Waterfall...............................................................................10

Daydreams............................................................................13

Raft.......................................................................................16

Ignored.................................................................................19

Expanding.............................................................................22

Men’s games.........................................................................25

Gift.......................................................................................28

Seduction..............................................................................32

Plans.....................................................................................36

Warnings..............................................................................39

Resolution............................................................................42

Tempted...............................................................................45

end.......................................................................................48

Modelled by:

Raoul Alexander KarpovTarzan Thanos Alibakis

A rendsz’ world story 2 2020

River Pirates

Bandits

It was an ingenious idea she had brought. Raoul had known his father would not like it. But that was the old man all over nowadays, he was getting past it. Raoul, on the other hand, was intrigued. Or maybe he had been intrigued by the


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appearance of the woman making the offer. Sexy as fuck.She had certainly made an entrance back then, a week ago. Looking like that, she couldn’t fail to get his attention. Whatever …. both her offer and her appearance held some promise. As the reaction at the tops of his legs promised.

That offer had been made a week ago. And now she was back again, returned from her “quest”. She was stood in the centre of their compound. Accompanied by about ten of her men, all hard, tough, fought like demons. As Raoul and his father’s own gang had found out often enough.

Interestingly, she stood there bare to the waist just like her other warriors. The warrior leader. As muscular as them if more rounded. And Raoul was not missing the way her breasts were so muscled they were holding themselves up. Pert as shit. This past week, his dreams had had his hands all over them. But then .. why else did she strut around bare to the waist? She knew what she was doing, no accident. She had Raoul fancying getting his hands in there .. to test out that muscle-strength. And dressed like that, he couldn’t be surprised if every member of Raoul's own gang wasn’t thinking the same.

"I said I’d seal our merger with a gift," she’d offered.She addressed Raoul. He too was surrounded by his gang of well-built men. These two groups had come to blows regularly enough. His gang members had slogged it out with her men often enough and even now both sides looked ready if anyone tried anything on. Though that would be disappointing. That tingling down below told him what gift Raoul would settle for."An expression of good faith uniting our two business interests."

It was a week since she'd turned up with her surprise offer. Then she’d left them to think over the offer. Off on her quest for that gift she’d promised Raoul. After a week Raoul had thought she’d changed her mind. That joining their two business operations might not be such an attractive idea, had she had second thoughts? Certainly Raoul’s father hadn’t encouraged her offer. But here she was again. What was the gift she planned to seal their merger with?

Last week when he’d asked about her promised gift, curious, she had winked seductively at him. “Something no man could ever bring you,” she answered mysteriously. Back then Raoul had known what he’d settle for.


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Their two warring operations should bury the hatchet .. that was the merger idea she’d brought. They should stop wasting energy fighting each other. They should unite, work together. On the same side. And make the jungle serve both their interests. "Together, who’s going to stand up to us?" she'd asked.Raoul's father was old-school, he didn't like the idea of cooperating with others, much less a bitter enemy. He’d built up his piracy business from scratch, for years they dominated the river. Traders plying the river paid handsomely to pass. Or they lost all their stock. Sometimes awkward ones forfeited both.

And then this tribe of natives had started treading on his father’s toes. Some locals barging in and stealing away business. Holding traders to ransom. That had led to blows, many times. Unite with these infiltrators? Raoul’s father wouldn’t hear of it. This was his turf. He didn't share.His father was pig-headed. But Raoul had seen the value of the idea. Her tribe had grabbed control of the hinterland. Materials mined, foodstuffs produced. Traders no longer got to the river without her tribe’s say-so. And for that people paid handsomely. Turf wars breaking out between the two gangs had been inevitable. Costing lives, losing money.

Raoul had warmed to her offer. Uniting made sense. And it couldn’t do any harm to get to know this woman better. He nodded in agreement. He just had his father to deal with. He’d spent the last week persuading the old man."United, we dominate the whole jungle. No one passes without our say-so. Every tribe, every trader will be subject to us. And paying.” Stern-faced, his father, still the gang-boss, had frowned. Raoul explained, "All the riches of the jungle will be ours. It’s easy money, it makes sense."His father had snorted."Half. Shared with that lot. Who we've been fighting for years."

All week, her offer had kept Raoul wondering.“I’ll give you time to think it over. When I return ... if you agree to our merger … I’ll seal it with the best gift you could ever have.”One look over her standing there like that, tits out … Raoul had known what he’d settle for. And now she had returned, stripped to the waist for action again … Raoul was intrigued. A gift no man could ever offer, she’d said. Diamonds, gold? For starters, he might settle for some hours with her in his hut.

Now that she'd returned .. supposedly with the quest fulfilled .. bare-breasted as ever, full of her status as the warrior-leader of a hard band of native thugs .. stood proud and undaunted as any male .. the sight she offered … Raoul had no problems of seeing her taking it under him. But there'd never be any notion


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of committing himself. This was a merger, a business operation. He was not shackling himself to one female like his father might have in mind. There'd be plenty of others before. There’d be plenty more still.

But he was getting ahead of himself. Had she fulfilled her task? Raoul's eyes rushed over her greedily. "You set yourself a condition on this merger,” Raoul taunted. “A gift no man could ever bring?"In the week, Raoul had gradually won his father over. In return, the old man had lecherously suggested the two of them should get it together. He’d spotted Raoul’s lecherous looks. About time Raoul settled down, made him an heir. Fuck that!

The old guy was getting senile, he had to be joking when he talked about handing the business over to him and playing with his grandchild, didn’t he? Though Raoul had often had thoughts that the old man was getting past-it, this turnaround had taken the biscuit.. Once the old man had got around to accepting the merger idea, he started on other stupid thoughts .. a merger of other sorts. Raoul wasn't thrilled about getting tied to one woman. But he'd go wild over creating that heir with her. "You have returned. Have you given up? There is no shame in failing. It was a daunting task you set yourself."Still thinking that he was dead-sure what exactly she could offer him as a suitable compensation prize.

"What no man could bring you, I promised."She smiled. But it was a mocking smile. The woman WAS sure of herself. Down in that cock-region, Raoul felt a rush. Taking this wildcat in bed would not be easy, Raoul realised. But he was more than up for the challenge. Hell-of-a-ride.

She swerved and gestured to the forest behind. Raoul didn't not bother to divert his eyes from the controlled sway of her firm muscular breasts."What no male could bring you, a woman has."Her hand gestured into the jungle. Now Raoul could see more of her warriors had appeared half-hidden in the trees.

"I bring you what I promised. I give you the best."Her hand gestured her men forward."I give you Tarzan."


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Distraught


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It took Tarzan some time to calm her down. She'd broken down at the foot of his treehouse and his attention had been alerted by her sobbing. He’d climbed down to her."They're hiding away in a cave."Through her distraught weeping Tarzan had grasped that her tribe had been attacked. Some women had escaped with children while the men were being taken away. Forced labour .. enslaved .. she didn’t know."The women in hiding … they have no food,” she sobbed. “But they're terrified to forage in case they lead the attackers back. They'll starve to death."

Tarzan had never heard of this Mnango tribe who’d over-run her friends."I've paddled three days here by river. A man said Tarzan would help."She was exhausted, bedraggled, her clothes filthy. But under her soiled shift Tarzan detected a strong frame. Despite her exhaustion and her sobbing, he sensed a strong character. What she’d put herself through to come for his help …. no wonder she was played out. But doggedly, for the sake of others, she’d battled exhaustion and the river to find him. Women that strong were rare. And that attracted him. "Our women work hard," she later explained, "but I've never had to work so hard .. paddling here alone. Terrified."

Against her protests that they had to go now .. the women were desperate, they needed his help …. Tarzan insisted they wait till morning."You are too tired," he insisted. "You'll slow us down."Early next morning, Tarzan found her bathing in the river. Before showing himself, he'd watched, interested. Fully dressed but through the clinging dress, he felt a physical urge at the shapeliness obvious through the wet shift. Long legs, firm breasts, cheeky pert nipples poking at the cloth, alluring buttocks. In other circumstances … if they hadn't been rushing to rescue her friends ….. Maybe, on the journey ….?

As they quickly breakfasted, when she handed him some fruit with a smile, Tarzan could not help noticing the change that a night's sleep and a good wash had made. She was beautiful, exceptionally. Her eyes sparkled. Surprisingly muscular legs. And when her sleeve slipped back, her arms were more muscled than most women. And that only made Tarzan more intrigued. And interested him to have more of her revealed.


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All day on the river, thoughts of lying with her kept creeping into his thinking. They paddled upstream. All day. Hard work. She was strong, she worked tirelessly against the current. Little time for idle talk but plenty of opportunity for Tarzan behind her to harbour thoughts of his own.

When she begged that they stop and rest, Tarzan didn't object that they should press on. He didn't offer that she could rest and he could paddle the canoe alone. The thought of being on land with her and making use of any opportunity that might arise saw Tarzan willingly paddling to a small bay where a freshwater stream emptied into the river.

Coyly she'd disappeared to relieve herself. Then she returned with a sparkle in her eyes. She'd found somewhere where a waterfall dropped into the stream, she said. It looked magical. It lightened her spirit, she said. She was going to bathe."Come, join me."She extended a hand. Tarzan took that as a good sign.

He'd light the fire first, he explained, then he'd join her. Surmising that she'd undress fully if he wasn't there. She'd be naked in the water when he arrived. He watched her buttocks sway seductively as she turned and went back to the waterfall. Tarzan was sure she had now overcome her earlier sense of feeling distraught, now that she had found him, now that he was coming to help. He felt a lurch in his groin. What a change from the woman he'd found sobbing at his house yesterday.

Taking her last night at his home, that would have been taking advantage of her, distraught. Not that he hadn’t sometimes in the past, comforting an overwrought woman …... But inviting him to bathe with her …..? Wasn’t she signalling interest? He was congratulating himself on his little subterfuge .. letting her go forward alone. Letting her undress for him. By now he was convinced. She’d be eagerly welcoming him when he did slide into the water joining her.


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Waterfall

She’d been right. The spray from the waterfall caught the light in a magical way. The jungle was transformed, the air glistening .. silver, white. More important,


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Tarzan saw too his suspicions were correct, she was just as interested as he was. She had undressed, she was submerged in the crystal-clear water. But his eyes feasted on what they ached to see.

The sight of her was beguiling. Before sliding into the foaming waters to join her, Tarzan felt mesmerised by her beauty. By the magic of her alluring looks captured in this bewitching scene. He felt himself robbed of any resistance. The power of her in this enticing setting rushed inflamed to his groin. Had she spent the day thinking about his body like he had about hers? The stream was not deep. But the waterfall had gouged out greater depth. She stood nearly up to her shoulders in water, the spray from the waterfall sparkling around her head like twinkling jewels. She had used the right word, magical .. the sparkles around her, silver,gold, they made her look magical. And irresistible.

She turned to face him, with half a smile. Tarzan slid into the cooling waters, he'd decided not to undress, he’d let her show herself interested. He reckoned he'd let her do all the running. In just the way he’d been fantasising about her all day …. She could come to him, she could free him from his loincloth, making her message unmistakable. If he wasn’t already, he’d be fully hard by then. Tarzan played it cool, she could surrender her body to his. She could remove his clothing herself. He suspected he wasn’t the one wanting this foreplay to last too long.

He rested his back against a big boulder on the bank, stretching his arms out wide to the side. A kind of come-and-get-me sign. I'm yours for the taking.

With one long look at him, she moved .. rising up out of the stream. Tarzan had wondered about seeing her without clothes, but this was his first real sight. Nothing disappointed. The light sparkled about her enticing. Her breasts were full but firm as he'd suspected when he was watching her wash. Lean and strong, Tarzan noticed her nipples firm and aroused from the chill out the stream. His loincloth, under the water, was filling out.

There was almost something masculine about her body, lean, taut, strong shoulders, muscled. But as she rose and approached there was nothing male about her charms. Tarzan's gaze dropped over her flat belly to the tops of her legs .. glistening, water sparkling like jewels in her bush. He didn’t pretend to be looking anywhere else as she got closer.


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Tarzan felt a rush of blood to his head. A powerful lurch rose in his loins. She was every bit as seductive as he'd imagined her all day. If she didn’t offer herself, he doubted he could let this go, his blood was rising. She strode fully revealed the five paces towards him. His eyes wandered over every inch of her body. She approached him confident and self-assured. This was a woman who knew her powers over men. A woman who was almost man-like in the way she was flaunting herself. But she was certainly all female. She was beguiling. And she was seducing him, there was nothing coy about her. With every step closer .. the sparkles of the waterfall sprinkling gold seductively on her hair, enticingly dusting silver about her skin. Her intention was clear. With every step she took towards him, she was in total control. Of herself. And the power she knew she was growing in his loincloth.

Tarzan still didn't move. He didn’t have to, she was offering herself, fully in control of her desires. He just leaned back against rock, arms out-spread, his lower body in the water. She crouched down on him, a knee on either side of his legs,. She shuffled forwards on his thighs. Until her sex made contact with his hardness. Her hips rocked a few light touches on him there. While her hands took his head between them and their lips touched. A long slow kiss. Under the water, Tarzan’s passions burst free. He could feel her breasts flat and hard against his chest. Soft female and also male-hard with muscle at the same time. The nipples, hard to the touch on Tarzan's muscle-packed chest, pressed firm against him.

He opened his mouth a little, her tongue prised open the door. She was tonguing him, she was seductively arousing him, it was determined, her body would accept nothing else. Her tongue persistent and passionate, deep inside. When she came up for breath, straight away her mouth was searching for his throat, pushing his head back against the stone, kissing and nipping at his skin.Tarzan pushed up with his hips. Under the water, he was massaging himself against her heat .. giving her strong signals that it was time. Playtime was over.

She backed up off him a little .. still holding Tarzan's head between her hands. A long look full of her want."I … err … need to do something first."Her smile was almost embarrassed. Apologising for having to wee. But Tarzan planned to make a long night of it. Best she was ready for that."Come to me. At the camp."She rose up off him. Her skin glistened, her body sparkled. She gave him gave another apologetic smile .. for making his passions wait."A few minutes …"


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Daydreams


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Tarzan's eyes had been lecherously all over her backside as she waded out of the stream. He lay back against the rock and lost himself in lustful thoughts. She'd come into his life because of a crisis. But there was every sign that she recovered fast. Both were seemingly intent in making the best of it tonight. When he got to her people, hidden away in a cave, Tarzan had no idea what he'd find. Or how he'd manage to save her tribe. It was just him against the marauders. But tonight they would be in another world. This encounter at the waterfall foretold a hot night of extreme passion. He could see them needing to return regularly to the waterfall to cool down. So far, travelling here, his imagination had been fanciful about how he'd take her. Those thoughts were about to find come .. between those glorious-looking strong legs. Sight of her bare backside striding away awoke visions of him taking her from behind. He could almost feel his hand in her bush as he felt himself pushing up her inside.

And these minutes in the stream had told him she'd been making demands herself. Not a woman who'd lie back and just take, he was convinced. He was now sure she too had been fantasising as they'd been paddling in silence all day. He smiled to himself. How had she been seeing having HIM? Tarzan liked a strong woman, there weren't nearly enough around. And she was strong. A strong lean hard body .. honed by hard work, she said. An interesting mixture of near-male muscled strength and a riveting allure of feminine softness. Plenty of stamina in her, he guessed. Tarzan was promising himself a long memorable night.

A scream. Down the stream. Tarzan was already in his feet. It was her screaming. Who else could it be? The cries were coming from the river. From their camp. An animal? A wild cat? What else could it be? Tarzan was already racing back through the trees. He reached for his knife to attack the cat. Not there. He'd left it back when making the fire. But he didn't hesitate. Another full-throated scream.

Tarzan burst through the trees into the camp. She was on her knees, Tarzan's knife was her throat. Tarzan stumbled to a halt in shock. On her knees, a man had her head twisted back, her throat exposed. Next to her, two natives with guns raised .. aimed at Tarzan.


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"On your knees."Tarzan hesitated assessing his chances. None."Do it or she gets it, apeman."The man with the knife to her throat looked like he meant it. The look on her terrified tear-streaked face betrayed she believed it too.Tarzan did as told. He had no weapon. By the time he'd leapt over the fire at them, she'd be dead. He dropped to his knees looking angry.

"Hands above your head."Before Tarzan could comply, two more men appeared near him, pistols in hand too. Five against him.He didn't resist when one man came close, grabbed a wrist and started looping thin cord around it. Tarzan flexed to increase muscle bulk but the men knew the trick and tugged the cord bitingly tight. The other wrist was bound to it, similarly tight. Then Tarzan's hand was thrown back into his lap.

"Move and she gets it, apeman."Rope was being inserted through the crook in Tarzan's elbow and threaded across his back. The other elbow got threaded up, the rope ends pulled tight till his elbows nearly met. Apeman. He called Tarzan Apeman. They knew who he was. Had they been following him? It was him they'd come for. Tarzan's arms were now pinned to his sides. His hands tight against the muscle of his belly. It was him they wanted.

"Let her go. It's me you want. She's nothing to you."The man with the knife took his eyes from Tarzan. He removed the knife from her throat. Tarzan sighed in relief. The knife-man looked down at the woman beneath him on her knees. He grinned. He laughed. She laughed too. She looked across at Tarzan. Her whole body shook with laughter. Her breasts shook. Full-bodied laughter.

Tarzan did not understand. He made to get up. Why was she laughing at him? He had one knee up. What this some kind of joke?A blow smacked Tarzan in the back of his neck. He was pitching forward .. no hands to stop himself. A second pistol-whip hit him before he hit the floor. Tarzan was out-cold before his face crashed to the earth.


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Raft


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His head throbbed. A deep painful throbbing at the core of his brain. A throbbing that kept Tarzan's head wrapped in confusion and pain. Movement. His body was aware of movement. And noise. A strong pulsating forward motion that jarred with the throbbing that had a crushing grip on his brain. Movement accompanied by a discordant sound. Of an engine. Tarzan lay powerless. Unable to move much. Unwilling to move.


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Mechanical noise, high pitched. A rush of air. Incongruently mixed with the aching in his head. A feeling of being rushed smoothly forwards. And still there was that pounding from a club at the core of his brain.

Water splashed in Tarzan's face. Surprised, Tarzan shook it away. His head exploded. He froze. Paralysed by the throbbing coalescing into a massive spasm of pain. Water splashed on his chest. Cold. A spray of cold water from underneath.

Underneath? Surprise prised his clenched eyes. Beneath his face .. he saw water. A cold splash of water .. spraying up onto his chest. The river. Tarzan was lying on his front .. hovering a foot above the river. Confused he lifted his head. It moved, but only so far. Around his neck was some restraint. Pinning his head down.

He tried again. He struggled to lift his head. He wriggled to free himself. He could .. but only so far, swishing with his head was burning something coarse against his neck. He shifted again, his feet were tied down. That tie across the back of his neck kept him pinned him down. Against the throbbing in his confused brain, Tarzan examined his body. He was lying on some kind of frame. His hands were tied .. pinned to the muscle of his body. He was tied on a wooden frame of sorts, his feet tied down at one end, his neck at the other.

That damned woman. It started to come back to him. That scene by the camp fire. The thug with the knife at her throat. And then the laughter. Belly laughter that shook her bare breasts and mocked his stupidity. She'd tricked him. She had been in this with these thugs who held him captive. Tarzan's pounding head recalled the laughter when she saw the shock on his face. She'd played him. She'd captured him. That story of a desperate woman coming for his help .... those promises of a night of animal passion under the stars … she’d played him for a fool. Some elaborate game she'd played to take him captive.

He raised his head as best as he could. It was hanging down free off the end of the frame, the water from the river splashed up into his face. He could barely lift his head, a rope noose around his neck kept him restrained. Left and right, he glimpsed a pair of canoes. He saw a man .. a muscular man holding a tiller .. the sound of an outboard motor behind him.


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Earlier she’d arrived in a crude dug-out canoe. These thugs had come with the technology. The two canoes bound together with Tarzan’s frame. Rapidly eating up the miles up the river .. the outboard motor screeching behind. Tarzan was pinned down on a raft of poles stretched between these two cut-out canoes, one the canoe he’d naively paddled with that bitch. The other had an outboard motor at the back, powering them up the river. Tarzan wriggled. He jerked. Only secured at the neck and the feet. He lifted his hips up, he tried to crash them down. He shook his torso, he tugged at the restraints. But there was no give. His arms were secured, Tarzan could feel coarse thick rope pinning his feet and neck helpless to the raft.

Anger flooded Tarzan’s blood. At their effrontery. At his stupidity."Who are you?"There was no reply."What do you want with Tarzan?"No one bothered to answer.

Tarzan tried his best to disrupt them. With what movement he had, he rocked his body from side to side. He pounded his hips up and down. He tried to annoy them, he tried to disrupt the smoothness of their journey.

He changed nothing. They said nothing. Anyway, where was the bitch who’d seduced him? Was she even here? Had she done what she was paid for and gone off to spend the blood-money she’d earned?His captors showed no sign of annoyance at his efforts to make things hard. They ignored him. The lord of the jungle was captured. He couldn't get away. It was humiliating how they were ignoring his efforts to disrupt their flow, Tarzan couldn’t even get them riled. They knew they were in charge, the lord of the jungle was no threat.. These were a disciplined band. But what did they want?


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Ignored

They’d arrived, it seemed, the canoes were finally beached. Pulled up out of the river and without any instructions, the men set about dismantling the frame Tarzan had been stretched


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out on. He remembered there'd still been hours of daylight left when they'd captured him. They knocked him out, re-positioned him on this raft between the two canoes and they'd set off. They were wasting no time. For what? Frustratingly he’d not managed to provoke these men into betraying who’d ordered him hunted down. Or reveal who wanted him.With darkness, they'd had to spend the night on land but Tarzan hadn't been released. He'd been trapped like this for a day. And no wiser about what they wanted with him. He'd given up trying to ask. They simply ignored him. At the night camp, food had been spooned to him as he was, water drunk with difficulty even with the neck strap removed. But then he had been secured again and had spent an uncomfortable night on the frame. Plagued by insects he couldn't swat. Left with his blank angry thoughts.

When they’d been feeding him and he'd been able to raise his head, he'd glimpsed the woman again. She WAS still with the men. She hadn’t simply been paid to lure Tarzan into letting his guard down. Clear as light, she was one of them. And really. Gone now was the modest shift. She was dressed in the same leather kilts as the men. Nothing more, bare to the waist .. dressed just like this gang of well-built locals .. one of the gang herself. The kilt seemed to consist of many overlapping strips of leather hanging off a waist band. Tarzan had glimpsed bare buttocks when the man feeding him had moved. Tarzan assumed she too wore nothing underneath. That had only reawakened the thoughts that he'd had the previous day paddling behind her. This fresh sight of her .. dressed like the men, stripped to the waist … Tarzan could rationalise his reactions and thoughts about her. And how she’d tempted him into her spider’s web. Here was a woman who understood the power of her body. She used it against men like a weapon. She knew the power of her sex. She’d used it deftly against him.

Yet Tarzan did not detect, among the men, any giving in to the kinds of lascivious thoughts he’d harboured for the day. No one looked her over with the greed Tarzan had felt at the sight of her. Bare-breasted like the others, they seemed perfectly at ease with her displaying her charms among them. Odd. What man could fail to be drawn in by the sight of her? How was it possible for a male to ignore those charms?. Or had Tarzan got it wrong? She exuded naturally a woman's sexual allure. But Tarzan got the feeling that none of these men would dare try anything on. They were bringing her the food, a reversal of life in the jungle, they jumped to refill her water bowl. Not simply men in thrall to a seductive woman.


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From Tarzan’s own foolish experience, he knew ….she could use them, she could take them when it suited. She’d use her allure to mount one of them if she desired … but on her terms. That wasn’t what was happening. If there'd been any sign of one of these virile male coming on to her, Tarzan had spotted no signs. In fact, if anything the men never even looked at her with lust. As if they wouldn’t dare? Each seemed to defer to her. Was she the one here in control? A kind of warrior queen? Tarzan would have dared to make a move on her. He had thought himself in control. He'd meant to let her come to him. And look where that had got him.

Now that she had him captive she was seemingly indifferent to Tarzan. She didn’t glance in his direction. Which oddly humiliated him. For all her blatant seduction at the waterfall ….. He'd put a lot of emotion behind the thoughts of lying with her. Her allure was self-evident. And she used it on him. She'd turned Tarzan's reactions against him. And he'd let her. She'd ensnared Tarzan. She'd used her female magnetism on him and he'd blithely fallen into her trap. And now she didn’t give a shit for him. He was a commodity. Someone had ordered her to take him captive .. job done .. now he didn’t count. No, he wasn't humiliated. That was not the right way to respond.. He was angry. With her indifference. Her coldness. And angry with himself. He'd been stupid enough to throw all caution to the wind .. his head full of one objective only. And look where it had got him. She'd played at the waterfall. She'd lured him there, it was planned, she had her men in readiness there to capture him. All play acting, deceit. And Tarzan had been stupid enough to let himself be fooled.

He'd been an idiot. He ought to hang his head in shame. Tarzan had encountered enough women as power-hungry as men. He should have known better than to let his lusts get the better of him. Back at the waterfall, he had thought he was playing HER! Now on land, she hadn't turned her head once in his direction. Job done. She'd come to get him. Captured, she wasn't bothered about him one bit. Now he was an object. Some asset. That trick with Tarzan's lusts at the waterfall had got her what she wanted. She had not the slightest interest in Tarzan any more.


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Expanding


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She'd told that young conceited pirate punk she was bringing a gift. But she'd never said he could keep it. She had her own designs on Tarzan, she could use him to further her business expansion plans. These pirates had had the run of the river for too long. Time to move over and let the locals in. The father who earlier had muscled his way into dominance on the river was now past it. And that punk of a son was not up to it, too full of himself. Too much muscle, where did he keep his brain? Already her tribe had started to push back, expanding their turf, growing their territory. The two gangs had come to blows, they’d had their run-ins. But .. even in the shadow of these pirates flexing their muscle, claiming the right to run the show .. she and her band now controlled all but the river banks. And soon that too would be under her thumb. Stand aside. The locals were moving in.

A merger, she'd proposed. But first she had to get the old man out of the way .. she'd get the punk to put his old man out to pasture. Easy for a woman like her to appeal to his vain ambition, he’d lived under his old man’s thumb long enough. Where was his backbone? Then once the young punk thought it was him in control, she'd have no problem leading him around by his dick. A few lusty sessions in his hut and she’d have him eating out of her hand. He was no battler, he’d had it too easy. And that piece of meat in his leather loincloth was where he kept his brain.First she'd become the senior partner. Then a malicious takeover would settle the matter. If he thought he could stand up to her …. well, deny his cock the satisfaction a few times and he’d come slavering. And if not ….. a ripped physique always commanded a good price on the male-meat market.

Tarzan was HER asset, whatever the punk might think. Anyway, did he have the imagination to make best use of the apeman for profit? She was expanding her business into protection. Offering every village the protection they needed against the violent forces around. Some chiefs had asked what violence, they’d protested they needed no protection. Until her men had put them right. Proved them otherwise.

Tarzan was to be her totem. She'd approach a village with Tarzan in chains. He didn't need to do anything. His captured body spoke eloquently enough on her behalf. The strongman of the jungle .. her captive, her slave. If she could overpower that virile symbol of free men .. if she had the muscular lord of the jungle traipsing behind her in leg irons .. who was there to stand up for them? Who were they going to turn to for protection? The answer was obvious. With her power to enslave the mighty jungle lord, what chance did others stand?


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Of course, she would have to use force on him. Tarzan wasn't going to take easily to his enforced change of lifestyle. Her men might have to teach him a few sharp lessons. Blows to the gut. Clubbed, a rifle but thudded in there. How long did he plan to take punishment like that?He might get uppity in a village and encourage them to defy. But her men were as committed as she was to this growth in the business, they'd be getting rich by it too. She'd have no problems finding the determination to silence the apeman's mouth. And treat the villages to a show of strength at the same time.

And she knew exactly where her first expedition with the apeman in tow would be headed. That cocky young chief, he'd derided her insistence on protection money. He'd scoffed at a woman making demands of him like that. As soon as she had the shackles and chains ready for the apeman, she'd go visiting. Let him mock her when she had that symbol of her strength mincing in her wake in leg irons.

And she’d not be unhappy if the haughty young chief thought he still could scoff. This time her men would arrive armed to the teeth to prevent trouble, she'd soon have the loud-mouth seized. She'd have Tarzan displayed arms raised to an overhead branch. The tribe would watch their chief tied Tarzan's front, arms embracing that powerful chest.She'd strip their chief naked before his people. She'd have him thrashed on the back. His bare arse caned till he screamed. Tarzan would be stood helpless, unable to help .. her whipping post. Helpless while the impudent chief screamed himself hoarse .. till he passed out.

That image would flash like wildfire down the river. The story would expand with every telling. How Tarzan had stood helpless by. Lending her his muscular torso as whipping post. Unable to rescue as a chief was being agonisingly persuaded of the error of his ways. It would be embarrassing for Tarzan, humiliated like that. But her men would handle any awkwardness on his part. Embarrassment didn’t come into it. The apeman was her asset, an object, feelings did not come into it. The strongman of the jungle emasculated. Impotent. He’d stood by and let the brutality happen, the story would go. The days when the river tribes thought they could depend on the apeman for protection were past. If anyone wished to stand up to her .. if a tribe decided it could not afford to pay for her protection .. well, they had been warned. Tarzan had shown them what they deserved.


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Men’s games

Just now again Tarzan had let his emotions get the better of him. Bitter that he hadn't got what he'd planned .. and he had no doubt it would have been a memorable night. He was


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letting himself feel humiliated she hadn't felt about him the way he'd been drawn to her. She’d ensnared him, turned her sex against him, she didn’t give a shit about lying with him. She’d turned his own feelings of lust against him. Used them as a weapon against him. Made a stupid fool out of him.Ashamed! Why should he feel ashamed? The conniving bitch, she’d played him. And as soon as he got himself free, he'd pay her back. Woman or not, she was mixing with warriors. Dressed like them, behaving like them. She wanted to play with fire. Then she’d get her fingers burned .. woman or not … Tarzan would not let his emotions get in the way.This cold-hearted woman who had her prize … he wasn't worth a second glance. And that made him feel bad too. She hadn't even sauntered over to gloat as many of Tarzan's captors in the past had. Making themselves feel good by laughing at his helplessness. Triumphing over the capture of the jungle lord. She didn't even rate Tarzan worth that much.

Tarzan was angry at himself that her ignoring him got him annoyed. Despite everything, she still held a power over him. That made his blood boil. Cold, duplicitous. Yeah, she was going to pay the price. In full. She wanted to play at men's games, Tarzan would treat her like a man. She'd see the end of his fist just like any man would. What was she? What was this gang of hard-looking thugs? What was this about? Were they slavers? Was she taking him to a slaver? Had they been sent to round him up, the jungle lord who’d fetch a good price. They knew who he was, they'd come for him specifically. Or were they some tribe in the search of a sacrifice for their god? What better prize could they offer? The jungle hard-man, offered in sacrifice to some god of war. Before, Tarzan might have to countenanced being captured by this sex-crazy jungle queen. Manacled to her bed to service this bitch every night. But now he'd see this seductive female dead first.

Tarzan had been thrown down on his front on the riverbank. A knee pressed into his neck. He heard some working to the side but with the pressure on his neck he couldn't glance that way. He noted the men worked without instructions, there was little talk. This was an organised disciplined bunch.

Tarzan felt the rope on his elbows cut through. He tensed. This would be his first chance. Though he'd glanced the strength of his captors, well built, muscular and they worked efficiently as a team. He was in the hands of fit-looking fighters. Fighting himself free .. he'd need a lot of luck. He’d wait till they released the bonds on his hands and feet. Then he’d spring a surprise. His arms were slumped on his back, but hands still tied. Tarzan tensed for any chance. The pressure was back on his neck, this time a foot, a man's bodyweight pinning him down. But he’d have to move.


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His feet were raised, something long was being threaded between his ankles. Something very long, wooden. One of the poles from the frame he'd been laid out on. His hands were grabbed and lifted high up his back. Till his shoulder joints resisted. The pole was being threaded through between his wrists.Suddenly Tarzan saw himself through his mind's eye. He saw what they were doing to him. He panicked, he wriggled, he fought against the foot pressing down on his neck. That pole stretched the length of his body. One end passed through the wrists bound against his back, the other through his ankles. A chicken skewered on a stick.

The warrior wasn't concerned about Tarzan's struggles, he let the muscle body writhe to break free a bit.. It was too late for Tarzan to do anything With grunts, Tarzan was lifted up in the air. Suspended face-down off the pole. Arms still tied in his back, thigh muscles back-pulled back to the ties on his ankles. This was going to be agony. In an instant the strains on his arms made themselves felt. His shoulder joints were pulled back against nature, taking his whole bodyweight. The first signs of pain across his upper chest were revealing themselves. Thigh muscles were being pulled back like being racked on a wheel. And his back was bent backwards as he hung downwards of the pole.

He felt the impending agony, hands and feet caught over a pole, his racked torso hanging down between. Already every second was promising torture. With every step the men took Tarzan swayed. Pain sizzled through the muscles of his back-bent arms. His backbone groaned in protest with every swing.

Tarzan dug deep. His face creased into the pains of the growing strains. He was biting on his lower lip .. mainly because of his nerves .. in anticipation of the greater torments to come. This stress position could only get worse. Much worse. This was torture, they’d done this to torture him. This was deliberately planned for weakening. Worryingly, when they released him, Tarzan wouldn't be at his fighting best. This tortured agony would grind deep into every fibre and muscle of his powerful body. Slowing his fighting strength down. When his arms were free, what chance did he stand?

Clever. Ingenious. The bitch! This was her work. He cussed. He was sure. This was the kind of thing a demon like her would have thought out. Sly as a fucking cat. And just as evil. The damned she-cat. This female was a formidable enemy. She thought she behaved like a man. But there was something of the demon in her mind, Tarzan still didn't know what they wanted with him. He didn't know where they were taking him. Or what for. But skewered like this, weakening pains stretched out of every muscle … to stand any chance of standing up for himself when they released him, Tarzan had to hope they got him there soon.


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Gift

Raoul had noticed a discernible difference in tone from the woman, not friendly, far from showing him any respect, Something different about her now she’d returned. Putting his irritation aside, he gestured at the captive.


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"May I?"She folded her arms across her bare breasts and shrugged her shoulders."Be my guest. It's what I offered to fetch.”That irritated even further. Raoul felt his hackles go up. He didn’t like this off-hand manner she’d acquired since that last visit a week ago. “This is what I promised," she explained.And she thought, That'll teach you to belittle me. Think you could have managed this, punk? Maybe next time, it'll be me calling you out. Or maybe I’ll just seize you as my pet.Raoul chose not to show offence at her tone. He’d just spent a fucking-week persuading the old man to see sense in the merger. And now she was back, looking down her nose at him, hardly treating him with the respect her business partner warranted. Raoul chose to hold his tongue, he didn’t show his annoyance. But that arrogant bitch would be taught. That was not the way to talk to him.

Raoul approached Tarzan. He'd been secured under a tree, hands roped harmlessly away. He'd put up some resistance when they'd released him from the pole. But for all the apeman's fierce reputation as a formidable fighter, that time dangling off the pole had weakened him. Raoul had to give it to the sexy female with her tits out .. she knew her stuff. Hauling Tarzan like that from the river bank, keeping this heavy-muscled body in this agonising stress position while she sought Raoul out …. even the jungle’s hard-man was having a hard time of it. Pain-stiffened arms did not move so rapidly, any punches he had thrown at her men when he was released were slow, ineffective. And besides, her men had phased his release cleverly. First they had secured Tarzan stood the tree, hands tied to the branch above his head .. and only then did they released the cords on his ankles. Raoul recognised the training, she had her band well-disciplined. A smooth-working team of operators.

"Mine! You’re mine!"Raoul stretched out his hand possessively at Tarzan. A flash of anger scored across Tarzan's face."Tarzan is no man's!"Tarzan lunged at Raoul. Raoul had to sidestep out of the way as a foot kicked out at his knee.


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Laughing, Raoul shook his head at this spirit."We’ll have to see about that."Good-naturedly, he gestured at his own men to secure Tarzan's feet.

Mine? She scoffed at the punk’s claim. Yes, we WOULD see about that. But nothing showed on her face. She’d noticed how the punk had reacted when she’d turned up in her warrior-gear. Eyes all over her tits. His mind groping under her kilt. It was going to be kid’s play getting him in line. No hard backbone, just an uncontrollable dick. But there was nothing of that disdain on her features when he turned enquiringly towards her."So how did you set about it? Getting what no man could bring."Tarzan now had his legs spread, a bar tied behind each ankle. Raoul had moved to stand at Tarzan's side. A hand stroked mockingly across the back of his shoulders. A possessive squeeze on firm bulging muscle.

The punk guffawed."Oh, I get it."Raoul was ignoring the glare he was getting from his captive. Taunting, his finger stroked down the backbone, slick in the sweat of the apeman's anger. He was looking back at the woman who’d brought the jungle lord in as captive."Get me what no MAN could bring."

Raoul nodded to her appreciatively. “Clever!”Clever fucking-little bitch, he thought. Too fucking-clever for your own good. You need taking down a peg or two. And Raoul here is the man for the job. “It took a WOMAN to capture Tarzan?”Raoul cupped Tarzan's chin in his hand. “Fell for her womanly charms, did you? Apeman?”Angrily Tarzan whipped his head away. Raoul had been ready for him. A stinging slap across his face brought a red welt across Tarzan's face. And an angry glare to his face.Raoul ignored him. He'd have reacted the same way himself. He turned his head towards her. He giggled appreciatively."You cunning little she-cat."

Raoul did not manage to see if she liked the compliment. Tarzan lunged at him. Arm flaring out to elbow-punch Raoul's head. Raoul swerved away in time. With his feet secured, there was little his captive could do. Raoul stared back into his captive's angry face. They exchanged looks of strength. Then Raoul threw all his bodyweight behind a punch into Tarzan's belly. Bodies crashed together, Tarzan was thrown ungainly backwards. Raoul pushed himself upright, again unbalancing his prisoner, pushing his hands onto Tarzan's chest. His prisoner


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was still struggling to right himself on his outspread legs when Raoul emphasised his point. A chop with the side of his hand exploded across Tarzan's throat. His captive broke in a burst of spluttering and gasps, twisting off his overhead bonds.

Raoul looked over his captive one final time. Before turning back to the bare-breasted sight of Tarzan's captor."So tell me. How did you do it?"Raoul's head gestured dismissively at his "pet"."I want to have all the sordid details. How many times did you fuck the lord of the jungle to bring him down?"


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Seduction


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The young guy watching her maul Tarzan over … Tarzan could see he was visibly worked up. Her fingers were tracking back up Tarzan's midriff. Slowly circling through the furrows between pronounced hillocks of muscle in his belly. They'd already been lower down .. a light-fingered exploration over the top of his animal skin to check he was reacting. But then she knew he would be. She understood men, she understood how to make her touch irresistible.Did the young guy wish it was him? Her fingers touching that boner he was pushing out? To his cost Tarzan was finding out that this woman was a wonder with her hands. He was getting what a day ago he had been yearning to discover. But now she disgusted him. When this play-acting at seducing had first started, he'd tried to throw her off. He'd cursed her for the she-devil she was. Wriggling away, squirming, shaking her hands off him. But that had only egged her on. She didn't intend him to enjoy this. She was out to prove he couldn't resist her, she could wind his cock around her little finger. He didn't have the strength to resist for all his muscular build .. that was her message to him. His body was male. And in practised evil hands like hers, it was her who controlled, she dominated.

Tarzan’s skin was slick with his sweat .. in part the heat of the day, in part the heat of his body as it rose to the temptations of her touch. Her hand was on his chest. Her oiled thumb flicking lightly over the hub, aroused to firmness like he was getting down below.

She stood behind, her arms were around his chest, her skin felt silky against the coarse muscle of his back. Her nipples aroused, firm and clearly detectable on his flesh .. like fires inflaming his lusts. Tarzan was trying to resist, he was struggling to fight her back. He feared, though, his body would not win against this she-devil. It couldn't because it did not want to. Tarzan was being made a fool of. All her men had seated around in a circle .. eagerly watching his body losing this fight. That young muscled warrior who claimed to own Tarzan now .. he stood learning against a tree, seemingly bemused. Arms folded bulging across his chest. Awestruck, following the play of her hands. And visibly aroused himself as he watched. Did he wish it was him? Tarzan would swap places any time.

His body was losing this war of light ticklish touching. Tarzan's will was keeping up the struggle, though. He wasn't going to be displayed as a theatre show. It


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offended to have his manly willingness for sex put up for mockery. He was no freak show.

"Show us how you captured the lord of the jungle. How many times did you make a fool of his dick?"That was how the young warrior had invited her to put Tarzan through his paces. Though the obvious bulge in Tarzan’s loincloth showed the young guy could understand exactly how she’d lured him into her web of intrigue. Tarzan had as good as captured himself."Easy. Effortless," she'd said. "He's the male of the species."Tarzan resented the mockery in her tone. Goading him for his natural manly spirit, deriding that as weakness. But he had to confess the truth. He had let his guard down, he'd practically sacrificed himself to be bound to her. Before the waterfall, she'd done nothing explicit to arouse him. But her presence was so seductive. He'd walked eyes-open into her trap.

His torso shivered. Her tongue glided slowly up the side of his neck. The thumb on his nub tingled to her touch. Only hours ago, at the waterfall, he’d been inviting her to make all the running. Be careful what you wish for. Tarzan willed himself to resist. Yet his body insisted on trembling to her touch. The sizzles quivered through every pronounced muscle in his male body. Aiming for the tip of his cock.

He gasped in relief when her body slipped away from him. Her front came away from his back with a slurp of hot lusts from his sweat. She'd left him and there was sense of relief. Which was instantly confused by a shiver of regret. Her touch had left him, abandoned him. His body willed her back.

Tarzan needn't have worried. She was slipping under his raised arm, coming round the front, her finger tracking her move around his side. Her touch so seductively light, almost ticklish. Yet it warmed like a small welcoming fire. His eyes chased to track her magnificent body, bare to the waist. Strong, lean. Muscular shoulders, almost like a young male. Despite himself, Tarzan's eyes licked at those firm breasts, her nubs aroused too, strong and firm from stroking him. Definitely not male. Unthinking, he licked a lip.

Her finger traced lightly down his side, slicking through the deep furrow lining his stomach muscle. And down it went. She knelt. Her hand quickly had the cord undone. The animal skin fell away by itself as if it wanted Tarzan free for her.

He looked down at himself. Half-ready for her. His will screamed, No. His cock gave a willing lurch. She’d dropped to her knees. She leaned forward, the tip of her tongue tingled against the tip of him. NO! Tarzan knew this was his last


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chance. His movements were restricted by his bonds but he swung himself away. Feet trapped by that leg restraint, he could only twist half away. But with a relief he felt they lost contact.

She did nothing. She did not grab him back. She did not use her hands on his splayed-out legs to trap him. It was like she knew his body would return to her. That it could not resist the touch of her lips on him.

She was right. Tarzan’s body swung itself slowly, reluctantly, back around again. Slowly, like she was reprimanding him, telling him off for running away from her … slowly, expertly, her tongue washed the sweat from his cockhead. Tarzan shivered. Over the bristling tip, onto the glowing dome. He clamped his eyes shut. And his mind saw in close-up her every movement. The tip of her tongue caressed that pleasure spot underneath. Sparks of electricity shivered down his legs. Again, underneath. Lightly flicking at his love spot under there. Till his body could not hold back. His hips pushed forward. As if knowing exactly the moment of Tarzan’s failure, her lips parted. She took him inside. Tarzan's body thrust again. Tarzan slid further in. Her tongue welcomed him .. tickling him down at the root.

Impassioned, Tarzan's body sizzled. In one rush of blood, it filled him out. Fully aroused, the male thrust powerfully forward. The tip made contact with her throat. The tightness sent shivers up his backbone to burst in fiery sparkles in his brain.

He thrust. The animal in him growled. He withdraw a little. He thrust. Tarzan gasped. Nothing. No touch. No wet tongue firing off sparks to his balls. No mouth taking him down into that tightness. Gone.

Shocked, wide-eyed, he looked down. She was sat back on her haunches. She was looking up at him. A sneer on her face. Not even a smile, not even enjoying that she’d tricked him. A sneer of derision. That he’d let himself be bewitched. So easily. She’d tricked him, she’d toyed with him. And won again. Her body gave a slight twitch. A snort. A gesture of ridicule.

Tarzan saw her glance over at the young male warrior. He too seemed to glow with arousal from her show."How did I best the lord of the jungle!"She repeated his earlier question. Again that snort of derision shook her torso. Her eyes met Tarzan’s. He saw those irresistible breasts quiver with contempt for him."Easy."


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She turned back towards Tarzan’s arousal. Her finger gestured. Her fingertip stopped a hair's breadth from Tarzan’s dome .. fully erect, fully primed, eager yet helpless. Frustrated."I captured that."


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Plans


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Raoul really ought to take lessons from her .. the way she was treating the apeman. Raoul realised then he didn't even know her name. What they had been doing the whole of an energetic night hadn’t needed a name. But if they were going to be joined together .. as business allies, as lovers maybe .. then he ought to know.

Was this the way her band of men treated all captives? Or did they reserved it just for one who they thought might be tricky and needed some calming down? Certainly Tarzan looked tired out. Forced into this kneeling portion all night. His ankles trapped between two sturdy poles, made to kneel. Then each wrist bound to a short thick stake hammered into the earth under his backside. Tarzan couldn't sit back on the earth. The stake would stick up his arsehole. He couldn't lie down forward onto his front, the wrist bonds were too short. Was this her men’s planning? Somehow .. having got to know her throughout a marathon of a night …. he detected her hand in this. Her men had had Tarzan kneeling up all night. No rest, no food. He didn't look like the same man who cursed and railed at Raoul only a few hours before. Before Raoul and What's-her-name had spent the night at it.

He ached, under this loincloth the old guy had certainly had a workout. Was that why Raoul fancied goading his new pet? A bit of payback. Or heightened by the blood she’d kept at fever pitch for hours? After all, why be master of the lord of the jungle if you couldn't have some fun?"She told me you never had it off."Tarzan glared at him."She knew you wanted to. You'd been gagging for it all day."Raoul smirked."She said she could smell the lust on you."

Raoul hunkered down face-to-face with his pet.“I don't blame you. I've just had her. Countless times. You don't know what you been missing."Raoul paused. His head had filled with a scene from his night-time exertions. He felt a warm burning down there between his outstretched knees."She took quite some keeping up with."Raoul winked into his pet's glowering face.

"You wouldn't believe her stamina!"He grinned.


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"Took all I had to match her a few times."Again he paused, musing. The rush of blood down below was a response to one particular surprise move she’d made on him .. that still had him gasping. Raoul paused and let his body relish the memory."But then you've seen the body on her. She's as strong as many men. And .. you know what …. she knows her way around a man. Where did she learn such things?"Raoul laughed at the thought as his stiff hardness gave a lurch. She was quite something.

Getting back to the present …. Raoul looked his pet over. His eyes lingered on that powerful chest."I thought I’d have a pair of bull-rings fashioned for you. Couple of heavy duty ones …"Raoul made a part-circle with finger and thumb to show the size. "Gonna have lead disks welded to them. Marked with my insignia. So everything knows who owns Tarzan. Me."

Raoul's finger indicated Tarzan's chest."I'll have them threaded through there … through your nipples when ready."He let the thought sink in."So you'll know it too. With every step you take. That thought …. Tarzan is owned.”He shook his head gently at the thought his mind’s eye conjured up. The lord of the jungle … pierced through the nipples .. his pet. What would people say! That also sent of rush of excitement to Raoul’s cockhead. Domination. Fame.“My insignia banging against your skin. Every step reminding you. Owned by me."


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Warnings


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Raoul felt the defiance burning back into his face. Tarzan wasn’t one to take to being owned. He'd have to be tamed. And what did you do with a wilful dog? Kept beating the cur till the penny dropped.

"I'm wondering about a collar. What do you think?"Raoul saw the anger bristling on the skin of this exhausted Tarzan. He rubbed Tarzan's nose further in the shit."I heard once of a nice thick leather slave collar. Adorned with thick studs."Raoul grinned."Only the studs were on the inside. Worn tight, every time a slave breathed he felt the studs. A reminder. One-time lord of the jungle. Owned. Owned by me."He gave the hardness in his loincloth a squeeze. He liked this idea. Tarzan in a slave collar, constantly reminded, with every breath, Raoul owned his hide.

Tarzan might be tired. But …."No man owns Tarzan."Raoul shrugged. It was an understandable reply. Spoken strongly. Spoken with determination. Tarzan meant it too. Raoul could see there was still plenty of fire in the dog. He'd enjoy laying a cane across his arse to persuade his pet” otherwise. On his bare arse. Repeatedly. Until Raoul had him screaming. It would take more than a few sessions before Tarzan saw the light and toed the line. And where would be the fun in that! Raoul had all the time in the world. He owned the prick, the JUNGLE LORD. He was warming to the idea. This pet of his wasn’t going anywhere.

Raoul stood up. He didn't bother to suppress a yawn. It was a deliberate indication to his “pet” that he too had had a long night. But infinitely more adventurous than Tarzan's squatting on that punishment stake up his arse. Maybe Raoul should hang on to that trick with a stick? He rather thought he would.

He turned away. Then he turned back."Nearly forgot …."He grinned at Tarzan."She asked me ….. Because you're now mine ….."Raoul did like the sound of that. MINE. And the glower he could get out of Tarzan every time he mentioned it."Could she have a few hours with you …..?"


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Raoul saw the head lift."You see …?"He spread his hands out towards the muscular body pinned down on his knees."You were lusting after her. She was fancying a time with you too."Raoul grinned."And why not?”Raoul’s hand gestured at Tarzan’s open groin.“It’s not like plenty before haven’t had their hands on that she-cat. I bet."She had to have learned her sex-tricks in multiple fuckings. She was mind-blowing .. the way she’d known her way around his body. Bewitching.

Raoul had risen to his feet. Forcing Tarzan to look up at him. Raoul quite liked the feel of that. The jungle lord looking up to him.“So .. lucky bastard that you are, apeman ….. you’re gonna get what you were lusting after, after all ….”Raoul winked. A man-to-man wink."Could she enjoy a few hours alone with you?"Raoul was nodding."Of course, I said Yes."

He winked at Tarzan."You're gonna get what you were eager for, after all."Raoul paused. Then a smirk illuminated his face as he gloated into Tarzan's eyes."Only … I suspect …. It won't be the way YOU were imagining …."He shrugged."Not the way you'd be hoping ……"He sniggered. He shook his head in amusement.“Not at all.”


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Resolution


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He’d blown it. That was it, she’d had done with the punk. There was hardly a brain cell in his head. He had no idea. Quite obvious what did the thinking for him. A business partner? She’d be crazy. There wasn’t an ounce of business sense in his whole body. All muscle. No sense.He was thick. Or too vain. He just didn’t see it. Tarzan wasn’t his pet! He didn’t own him. Tarzan was an asset, he belonged jointly to the business. He had a job to do, he was going to bring in business. Not some pet with rings through his tits for the punk to show off how important he was. How mighty he was to have the famed apeman for his pet.He insisted on hanging on to Tarzan, did he? He claimed him for his own! The prick! Obviously, while she’d been away, doing the hard work, securing for the business this essential asset …. the punk had got the wrong idea. Her “gift” was for the business, an asset to their merged interests. Now that the brainless punk knew what the prize was that she’d promised, he was claiming Tarzan for himself. Over her dead body!

OK, he was good in the bed. Youthful, athletic too, he’d responded to her overtures. It took some persuading him at first. He thought a guy took the lead. He kept thinking he should be making all the running. She soon showed him she could put up a fight. And he was just as susceptible as Tarzan had been. A few seductive moves, gestures in the right place …. and the horny punk had keeled over. He saw the benefit in letting her call the shots.

But not on that Tarzan thing. He’d stayed stubborn. Clearly he liked what it did for his reputation. The man who had Tarzan as his pet. What an ego. What a prick! He struggled with the strategy she’d tried to lay out to him. She’d just given him a blow-job that had exploded his mind. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t think straight.Tarzan himself wasn’t the gift, she’d explained. It was the ABSENCE of the jungle strong-man that was so valuable. She had removed the obstacle to expansion along the whole of the river. Who were tribes going to turn to now? Whom did a chief run to, tail between his legs, when they insisted on doubling a tribute from the tribe? If they wanted to trade, there was a tax to cough up … Who was there to say No?

With Tarzan out of the way, the jungle was theirs for the taking. The future was golden. He couldn’t see it. He kept going on about slave ornaments, rings through Tarzan’s tits, he’d have get himself a lion cage to keep his “pet” in. It was when she was indulging him taking her from behind that she made the


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decision. She’d had it with him. He was a good fuck. But not a good as he thought himself. To think her plans through, she’d had to faze out all the huffing and puffing behind, the moans of ecstasy. Guys she’d had plenty .. and she’d had better. So while that brain in his hard-on was fully occupied humping into her, she took the chance to think things through.No point in even laying out her strategy of taking Tarzan with her to “persuade” chiefs to buy into her protection programme. He couldn’t see it if she explained it in words on one syllable.

She faked it beautifully for him .. putting in a few well-placed moans .. while her mind laid out the steps. She’d induce him into getting rid of his old man. When he agreed with her that it was best to have him permanently removed and if he wasn’t up to it himself, one of her men would arrange an accident. Something that wouldn’t upset the pirate gang. Then she’d have him disappear too. Again nothing to raise suspicions from his men. Who would think of looking for him at the slave market down by the estuary? He’d fetch her a good price, a white-guy was rare, a good body on him.

Then his pirate gang would be looking for work. She was expanding the business. She’d be happy to take them on, she’d say. Taking Tarzan around promoting her protection business, she might meet with some resistance. The more armed men she had with her, the better.

Yes, the punk had to go. If Tarzan was any person’s “pet”, she knew who could best pull his strings. She was just made to have that mighty muscular frame dancing to her tune. Doing her bidding. Not exactly what he’d been planning at that waterfall. But life came full of surprises.


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Tempted

Could she stop herself? Just to see his face! No. FUCK IT! She’d be there. When the punk went under the hammer. She’d be there. She’d worried about


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his crew getting jittery about his absence. Perhaps suspecting foul play. Maybe she couldn’t risk it. Risky being absent when the punk got sold off. But if someone spread the rumour among his pirate gang … he’d been heard talking about some girl in a far village he really fancied …. Who’d doubt the story? She’d bet his cock often had often gone AWOL.And that moment when he spotted her in the crowd …. it was a moment too golden to miss. She saw him .. on the auction block. She imagined him in the scantiest of covering for decency. A thong .. keeping his fullness just about hidden. But backless. Yes, in her imagination, it had to be backless. She recalled her fingers in his crack .. pulling him into her as he self-centredly grunted above. She was faking it, this was nothing arousing for her. But she had the sucker fooled. Energetically hauling his cock inside, right to the root. She had him hooked.Of course, she had to be there. She’d send his crew of pirates off on a wild-goose-chase. Some chief’s daughter he’d set his eye on. They knew he often disappeared on “hunting trips” for days. They’d be tracking him down .. while she was enjoying the pleasure of his hide going under the auctioneer’s hammer.

No way was there going to be a business merger with this dumb-arsed punk. Bump the old man off. Sell the punk down the river. She’d not be sharing anything then. And she wouldn’t have some preening Adonis holding her back. Leaderless, his gang would be looking for work. And what were they loyal to? Their pockets. And she’d soon take care of that.

At his auction she’d work her way to the front of the crowd, he had to see her. It would be a big crowd. Not that many white-men up-for-sale. And few so good-looking and built. He’d be a big draw. Few would be able to raise the fee she’d get for his hide. But there’d be plenty come to gawk. Plenty to shout out and make him squirm. And fume.

She fancied ambushing him only when it was his hide going under the hammer. She was not going to taunt him when the slaves were put out for viewing, She treasured the element of surprise. She saw him stood on the stage displaying as-good-as-his-all, the way he liked to be seen and admired. He’d be seen from the front, hands ordered to his head, the manacle chains dangling down his back. He’d be turned around showing off his bare arse. She grinned to herself. If someone in the crowd didn’t shout it out, “Bend him over, let’s see his arse ….” she would!


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How he’d fume! Knowing she’d put one over on him. And when he spotted her …… What WAS he going to do? Would he try and leap down at her? The slave-minders would be ready for anything. They’d beat him back.Or would they have got a measure of his spirit earlier? She’d bet that the punk would have been giving them a hard time. Forcibly sold into slavery, that would really get his goat. Knowing that SHE had done it .. the BITCH! That she had tricked him. AND she was earning the fee for his hide. He wouldn’t have been taking that well. He’d be giving his slavers a problem. Undoubtedly the minders would have had to discipline him. They wouldn’t want him raving at the viewing. He’d be bringing his price down if he was seen behaving too unruly. He’d have be taught.

How could they discipline him, though? They wouldn’t want those good looks marred. They couldn’t put a cane to his arse. His white-boy arse would be a good selling point. They’d not lay a whip to his back. They couldn’t afford to despoil the pristine beauty of that muscled back.

She could only come up with one idea …. How to discipline the punk without it leaving any marks showing. They’d rape him. RAPE. What was that going to do to his over-vaunted sense of his manly self? Viciously. They’d have to really hurt him, give him something to remember, to fear. They’d hurt him good and hard. Physically. Rape his sense of his over-muscled masculine self as well as his arse. They’d humiliate that preening manly pride, that was how they’d do it. To get him to control himself. And they’d warn him he’d get it over-and-over again if he couldn’t get a grip. A prospective vendor would never know. It would not be seen. But the punk would know. His pride as sore as his arse. What was the betting he’d prefer a bullwhip to his back?Oh yes, she PRAYED they raped the punk.


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Second thoughts

She watched from the porch of the punk's hut as he sauntered over to Tarzan. Probably gloating over his pet. He’d got up from his jizm-soaked mattress and gone out for a piss without a word or look. He'd got what he'd come for.


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She smirked to herself imagining the conversation going on. The punk would be feeling amazing. A night getting his rocks off and now he was towering over the famed jungle strong-man. Lording it over him.

He'd be promising him the ornaments the punk had been musing about. Pierced with bullrings. But, she mused in return, what had the punk done to deserve this asset? She'd done the heavy lifting, it had been her who'd tricked Tarzan, her men had secured him. And this punk thought he could keep what he hadn't caught?

He didn’t know the meaning of getting a job done. Had it too easy. Well, she mused …. She was going to change that for him. She had to smile. If only the punk knew what she had in store for him. It was HIM about to be rattling his chains in fury. He’d be the one in manacles .. furious as eager vendors greedily eyed his shredded physique .. promising themselves the delights they'd squeeze out of those ripped muscles.

Punk out of the way, sold down the river. The pirate boss feeding the crocodiles. Now as she sipped on her coffee, her thoughts turned her attention to what really mattered. Her business expansion. Controlling the river and all its trade. Collecting “taxes” and protection money. And making the most of the effort she'd invested in capturing the jungle strong-man.

Tarzan, captive, unable to intervene …. the river was free from his interference. It was HER river now. But maybe the punk wasn't completely dim. Did he have a point ….? What did it say about HER ….? That she had the jungle strong-man subjugated to her will? That she could freely parade him up and down the river .. using him to do her bidding?

Tarzan would not cooperate willingly, she couldn’t expect that. He’d have to be persuaded. There’d be force involved. But her men were more than up to that. Look how they’d kept that famed muscular power and iron-muscled strength-of-will pinned down on the journey here.

There'd undoubtedly be the need for Tarzan to be disciplined. And to maximise effectiveness, it would be more profitable to make his disciplining public. Turn that inevitable act of persuading Tarzan to cooperate into her propaganda machine.


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Tribes would see him punished. They’d observe their one-time Action-Hero broken. Subjected to her will. THAT was how to demoralise them, to convince them not to resist. Tarzan broken, subject to her will … what hope was left? That was Tarzan's single message to the river tribes. Resistance was futile. She could demand whatever she cared. If she could do that to Tarzan, what chance did they stand?

Kill two birds with one stone. Get rid of his interference. And use him to batter the tribes into financial subjugation.

She recalled her idea with that cocky chief. Using Tarzan as his whipping post. Lashing the chief before his tribe, on his bare arse, embracing Tarzan, till the cocky fool screamed himself unconscious. She smiled at how the rumours would fly down the river. Tarzan, stood there, unable to intervene … a chief shamefully broken to his knees .. watched by his people, watched by a useless Tarzan.


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But why not …..? Take a leather strap to Tarzan’s naked backside at the same time? The pair of them clutched to each other, their bare cocks slammed into each other with the pain. The famed jungle lord going under the lash, nothing he could do about it.

What message did THAT send? The legendary righter-of-wrongs in the jungle … helpless, unable to help. Useless. They couldn’t rely on running off to Tarzan for save them. He was having pain strapped out of his bare arse too. What chief would wish to embrace Tarzan now?

Tied to her cocky chief, Tarzan would start off yelling it out. Yes, he’d start off cursing, mocking, defying. If she thought she could break him …..! But she’d


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not let him off till Tarzan's pain was howling. That was her image the villagers would spread sizzling down the river.

Did any other chief want to defy her? Who wanted to share the apeman's pain? They’d heard of Tarzan screaming with unbearable pain. Did any other fool want to plead they did not need her “protection”? Who wanted to join with Tarzan and have his arse lashed until he passed out?

The punk was still goading Tarzan over there. She was not letting him off the future she'd planned for him .. that plan was just too sweet! But maybe he did have a point? Yes, it would look humiliating, wouldn’t it, she had to concede the idea ...? If Tarzan was displayed with those bullrings adorning his chest …..? The famed jungle lord. Reduced to an animal. Because SHE deemed it so. Reduced to a cow led around by its nose …..? Maybe the punk did have a good idea …..?

Or wait ….. Maybe something even more likely to leave a lasting impression? Why not a collar on his balls? Tarzan, her pet, led around on a lead. The one-time jungle lord … paraded on a leash through the jungle. The legendary Tarzan lead by the leash on his balls. Now THAT was a rumour that would sizzle like wildfire down the river.

Chest pierced by hefty rings? A cock-collar? Pronouncing to the jungle .. No point into running to him to help. Look at him. Tarzan is done-for. Either? Or? Bull-rings or the ball-collar? Did it have to be a choice? What was she telling the jungle if it was both?


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end


bandits · web viewit was an ingenious idea she had brought. raoul had known his father would not...

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