Jungle Virgins - The Barrister's Trial

by Lubrican

PLEASE NOTE: This is a preview of this short story. It is available for purchase in its entirety, along with
its prequel How Jane Met Tarzan via

Author's Note: When I posted 'Jungle Virgins - How Jane Met Tarzan', a reader named Steve sent me the following "feedback":

An English barrister came to the jungle to find Jane to execute Jane's father's will.

The barrister had heard that she was with the ape man. After much difficulty, the barrister found him and convinced him to talk.

"My good man, what is your name?", asked the barrister.

The ape man said, "Me Tarzan.".

"I am looking for a young English woman. Have you seen her?"

"Me Tarzan. She Jane."

"What's her whole name?"


Now that joke is designed to be TOLD, not read, so if you didn't get it, say it out loud to somebody who can't see the words and, despite the fact that it's a truly horrible joke, they'll explain it to you.


It DID give me an idea for a sequel to the story of how Jane met Tarzan.

What follows is that story.

Chapter 1: A Penny For Your Thoughts

J.P. Milton, of Hoffington, Burke, Jeffries and Bedletter, one of the most prestigious houses of law in London, got the nod for the mission that no one wanted, but which would make whoever did it a LOT of money.

It was probable that J.P. Milton got the job because this particular barrister, of all the barristers of Hoffington, Burke, Jeffries and Bedletter, was one of the most feared and hated lawyers in the whole of Great Britain.

And so, to the high muckety-mucks of Hoffington, Burke... you know the rest... it seemed like the ideal mission to send J.P. Milton on, because they all sincerely hoped that Milton would be killed in the wilds of deepest, darkest, most dangerous Africa.

After the documents were delivered, of course.

That way they'd all be rid of a dangerous pain in the ass, and the proceeds of any business generated by those documents, which could be enormous, would go to them in their entirety, instead of mostly to Milton.

J.P. Milton was a barrister, and normally eschewed the piddling work of a solicitor. In this case, however, Milton thought it would be a "hoot" as the Americans were known to say, to run off to romantic, mysterious, interesting Africa, most of which, after all had been colonies of European countries for years and years and must surely be safe and civilized by now.

That opinion was re-enforced when the plane landed in a quite scenic and modern looking city, quaintly named Leopoldville, in that part of the continent run by the Belgians, called, Milton believed, the Congo. Milton was not aware that 99.99% of all the wealth in the Belgian Congo was located, in fact, within a circle twelve miles in diameter of the airport the plane landed at.

Milton felt a thrill as negotiations were conducted with a real, live Black African. He didn't look very ferocious, which was perfectly all right with Milton. But he did look at the white barrister with what could only be called a 'fixed stare'.

Milton grandly announced that a guide to the present living quarters of one "Tarzan of the Apes" would be required, as well as someone to carry the luggage, hopefully in a motorized convoy that would not be exposed to rain or dust. Milton would retain control of the thick briefcase in which reposed the Last Will and Testament of Godfried Parker, father of Jane Parker, currently believed to be married to or in the company of this Tarzan person.

The not-so-vicious Black African, when he heard the demand, was heard to say "Pana! Mobuta ataya cissyvera no ataya bunada loquato ataya bunada monkasso."

Now the reader must here forgive the author, who does not speak Congolese, or Bantu, or whatever language was spoken by the man. The author has only heard these words repeated... in the oral tradition sort of way. In fact the spelling of the words is even in question, since the author had to guess at it.

However! The meaning of the words is quite clear, and has been verified many times over by people who DO speak whatever language that was. Those words meant:

"Oh shit, not another fucking rich white person looking for fucking mythical Tarzan of the fucking mythical apes!"

The author firmly believes this is a paraphrase of the actual concept, but the meaning is clear.

Milton had a line of credit, however, which invariably makes negotiations go much better than the phrase might have led one to believe.

The negotiations went well and, within hours, Milton and all of Milton's baggage, consisting of four suitcases and one trunk, were loaded in the back of an old Land Rover, being driven, more or less, by an ancient wizened man who was much more chocolate colored than black, to Milton's dismay. How would it look in the memoirs if the mission hinged on some sort of mixed blood driver? Moreover, this chauffeur did not speak English, and so Milton was unable to learn much of anything. Grumbling about how things weren't off to an auspicious start, effort was expended in an attempt to watch where they were going.

Everything looked exactly the same.

What is known after this point is a topic for discussion, both philosophical and legal. Since a barrister is involved, any discussion would necessarily involve legal issues, even if it were a discussion about whether or not you would pass me a Kleenex, so I might blow my nose.

There ARE a few indisputable facts.

One is that, after four days, the elderly chauffeur returned. It is known that the Land Rover came back empty, of both Milton and the luggage. Another agreed upon fact is that, several months later, a search party duly put together and enfranchised by Hoffington, Burke, blah blah blah, found clothing positively identified as being Milton's in what could only be described as "deepest, darkest, most dangerous Africa." That clothing was torn to shreds and scattered in the jungle.

No body was found.

No trace of what might have been a body was found.

The elders of the firm would have been ecstatic, except that Milton's briefcase, containing the Last Will and Testament of Lord Parker, also was not found. All those facts are indisputable, as is the fact that Milton was not seen nor heard from for seven months after the disappearance.

It is also quite plain that, when Milton turned back up, all hell broke loose.

Your humble servant, the author, just happens to be a cousin to J.P. Milton, and it was for this reason that I was able to interview my cousin and record the story of some of what happened during those mysterious seven months. Of course there were participants in the story who could NOT be interviewed, so there is some small license taken by the author, merely in the interests of providing a story that is readable. But most of it came from my cousin.

And so, without further ado, this... is her story.

Julia Penelope Milton (Penny to those she deemed friends), age twenty-six, and third in her law class at Oxford, had a pretty good idea that she was out of her element. What had seemed to start well had deteriorated with every mile the old bouncing vehicle plowed through the jungle.

She had a hard time communicating with the ancient geezer who was driving the land rover, but through a series of pantomimes that she was extremely glad no one else saw, she was able to get across the idea that the bouncing and jarring of the rutted road had dribbled her bladder around like a basketball, and that she had to pee.

He obligingly stopped in the middle of nowhere and she climbed out of the vehicle. the glittering black eyes of the driver were on her, which didn't surprise her. She was relatively sure, by now, that she was the first white woman the man had ever seen. By virtue of having seen a number of native women walking along what was laughingly called a road in this part of the seriously uncivilized world, she also knew she looked completely different from them.

The native women came in two basic types. One consisted of young, slim young women, girls really, with either tight high riding breasts, or hanging, droopy dugs that went along with the baby(s) the girl might be carrying. The other were older women, thick with fat and perhaps muscle, all of which had the sad looking sagging breasts that gave testimony that they had suckled many babies before they got old. All these breasts were naked, the women of that region being dressed only in long wrap around skirts, if they wore anything at all.

This made Penny a little nervous, in that she was probably the only woman in three hundred miles who had big soft breasts that DIDN'T sag, and which bulged outward in her smart and formerly pressed safari shirt in a manner that probably made it look like she had given birth to a calf, which was currently somewhere bawling for it's supper. That supper, it was plain to see, was in the wilds of Africa riding around inside her shirt.

That Penny stood out among women wasn't a new thing. While she normally kept her waist length blond hair in a series of braids that were then woven into a bun, all that hair still made men look and think about what it would look like, draped all over her naked body. Her eyes were that piercing blue that looked like the colored contact lenses of today, but wasn't. She had what people might have called an aquiline nose which, despite her diminutive 5' 6" height she could look down at one from (and did quite regularly).

In short, she was sex, packaged up in bright paper and bows, in a box that was just the right size to be every man's fantasy fuck mate.

And, she was completely aware of the effect she had on men. Every single partner in her firm had tried to get into what they glibly referred to as "her knickers" when she was hired on as a junior researcher. Penny, though, came from a hard driving, dog eat dog legal program at a university that took only the best to begin with. She knew the value of the hymen that was still firmly intact between her glorious soft thighs. She also knew how to use that to get what she wanted. She let each man get within almost literally an inch of picking that cherry before she burst into tears, pushing them away, moaning about how this was so unfair to Melody, or Margaret, or whatever the wife's name was, and how she just knew they couldn't possibly respect each other if she 'forced' her attentions on the poor man. She then made it a point to say, as she got dressed, that she didn't think it was necessary that Melody or Margaret or whoever be told about the almost incident, "even though you did suck my nipples most hotly".

She managed to run through all four partners within the astonishing space of three and a half weeks, at which point she had all four partners by the balls, both literally, during those three and a half weeks, and figuratively thereafter. Her career skyrocketed, naturally, as she got whatever she wanted in exchange for keeping her beautiful mouth shut.

It was also the reason she was sent to the Belgian Congo to hopefully expire in the most heroic of circumstances.

At any rate, some of this went through her mind as she stepped out of the land rover, briefcase firmly clutched in her hand, and endured the lustful eyes of the geezer, who she viewed as completely harmless. He probably hadn't had a servicable erection in thirty years. Nonetheless, she stepped deeper into the bush until she was hidden so she could squat and do her business without him peeking.

Which is why, when the thieving old bastard pulled a U turn in the clearing and drove back the way he'd come, WITH her luggage, she couldn't do anything except scream profanities at him as he disappeared into the jungle.

Penny had never thought about how quiet the jungle might be until she stopped screaming, and then stopped sobbing from the fear that seized her. When she finally did those two things, and what was, to the ears of a city dweller, the eerie silence of the deep Jungle washed over her, she discovered a new level of heart-stopping terror that she had never known before. It literally paralyzed her. Eventually, though, sanity forced its way to the surface of her mind and she began trying to decide what to do. The most obvious choice was to simply walk back down the track, following that horrible old man who had abandoned her.

She suddenly felt the weight of the briefcase in her hand and looked down to stare at it. Now her mind kicked up into survival mode.

Not survival in the jungle - oh no - Penny began to think about survival in her firm.

If she didn't complete her mission, those lecherous old men would grumble on about how she couldn't complete such a simple job and demote her back into the research department. And her veiled threats about exposing their nasty little attempts at deflowering her wouldn't mean much, because she'd be a failure, and nobody listens to a failure.

In the end it was simple politics that caused Penny to make the most momentous decision of her life. She decided to go deeper into the jungle and find this Tarzan person and the woman who, in Penny's mind, was probably his live-in slut.

The jungle's a big place.

And, if you get more than, say two or three hundred meters from anything man-made, it pretty much all looks the same. Penny had already noticed that, but she failed to remember it at that particular point.

And, with the top and middle canopies of leaves filtering the sunlight, not only is it pretty dark on the forest floor, you can't really see the sun or tell where it is.

Which means you have no real sense of direction.

Penny got lost within the first hour of her sojourn deeper into the jungle. She did, over the next three or four hours, manage to get deeper into the jungle than most of the native population ever did, and undeniably deeper than all but a very few white people. But by the time she got there she was a wreck, both physically and emotionally. She had always characterized herself as a "tough cookie" and prided herself on being able to stare down a mugger, which she had actually done once, though, admittedly she was holding a canister of mace at the time.

But now, every sound caused terror to grip her heart. Often she stopped and whirled around in a circle looking for the Tiger she knew was stalking her, or the Gorilla she knew was going to kidnap her, or the giant snake that was going to swallow her whole. The good news was that she didn't hear very many sounds. That's because she was making so much noise herself, it was unlikely she'd actually hear a charging Elephant, much less a more quiet denizen of the jungle. And, though she'll never admit it in her memoirs, to be published at a later date, she was making so much noise that a good many of the denizens of the jungle were running the other way. In the end, she was reduced to plodding, one foot stubbornly in front of the other, pushing huge leafy plants out her way and breathing like she'd just run a marathon at full speed.

So, when one of the denizens of the jungle DID strike, she had no warning whatsoever.

Malatiku had been following the strange woman for perhaps thirty minutes. He was far from his home territory, and nervous about that because he was in a forbidden section of the jungle. He had taken the risk, though, because the little pieces of heavy yellow metal that all the National Geographic people seemed to love so much came from this region, and those people who came to his village with their strange customs had many wonderful things they would trade for the worthless yellow stuff.

Malatiku knew that he risked his life to be in this part of the jungle, because this was Tarzan's range and Tarzan killed Malatiku's people on sight. This was because, when Tarzan had told the elders that eating the slaves they took captive in raids was wrong, and that they would have to stop, they had declared war on Tarzan, and had tried to kill him.

The tribe almost didn't survive.

Now, Tarzan's territory was forbidden to the men of his tribe. But that's where the yellow metal was. And the animals there were easier to hunt and kill too. They didn't seem to be afraid of men.

In fact, he had just killed a fat hog and had cut himself out a nice piece of raw flesh on which to dine, when he heard what had to be some strange new animal charging through the forest. He abandoned his kill and leapt into a tree where he sought refuge in the mid level canopy.

What he saw plunging through the jungle was Penny.

He followed her for a while, studying her. He knew she was female from her shape. The only female with skin this color was Tarzan's mate, but this female didn't act like she knew how to live in the jungle. Malatiku finally arrived at the conclusion that this one was a new one, and that quite possibly no one knew she was here.

She looked soft and tender, like she might taste very very good indeed.

So he bounded ahead of her and waited. When she approached his hidden position he stepped out behind her and bashed her head with his war club.

Penny regained consciousness like a seal, slowly drifting toward the surface of the water, seeing the destination, and knowing it was where she wanted to be, but in no hurry to get there. That may have been because part of her mind knew that when she woke up it was going to hurt like hell where the club had not quite fractured her skull.

Malatiku had pulled his blow at the last second, not because he wanted to avoid breaking the skull - that made it so much easier to get to the delicious gray flesh inside - but because he wanted his captive alive, for the present. You could always crush the skull later.

But there was something Malatiku had never done, and he wanted to try it. He had never had sex with a white woman. And, if by some wild chance, this was the infamous Tarzan's mate, his fortunes would be made when he brought her head back to his people, triumphant, with her heart and liver in his belly. He'd be the most famous of his people EVER! Girls would flock to him to have him bestow his heroic seed in them.

Thus it was that Penny regained consciousness with a splitting headache, as Malatiku was cutting the last remaining garments from her staked-out body.

Penny was a pragmatic girl, for the most part, and, other than an overactive imagination, she rarely looked at the world through anything other than glasses that she believed showed her only stark reality. Currently her 'glasses' were off, thanks to double vision which was blurred to boot.

But she knew she was in trouble. Bad trouble. What she believed to be a man was cutting the clothing from her body.

It was her theory that sometimes, in an abnormal situation, if one acted normally enough, one might be able to effect enough influence on the situation to knock it back to something closer to normal.

"What are you doing?" she said in a calm, normal voice. Her vision tunneled, but sharpened up a little.

"Ugh!" said Malatiku as he lovingly drew the flat of the tip of his knife from her throat to her navel, where he planned later to open her up and feast.

Perhaps it was the sign language he displayed with the knife. Or maybe it was his individually sharpened teeth, filed to points and rotten from a diet of raw meat and a lack of proper oral hygiene. Maybe it was his unhealthy pallor and the glint of insanity in his eyes, also probably a result of his diet.

Whatever it was, Penny recognized that her situation was no longer merely abnormal, it was dire, and acting normally wasn't going to do the trick.

So she took in the largest breath she could and screamed as long and loudly as she could.

Which, when you stop and think about it, is probably the MOST normal thing to do in a situation like that.

Ironic, huh?

Ironic because that piercing scream was heard by another denizen of the forest, who was curious enough to investigate. What he saw was so interesting that he just HAD to tell somebody, and off through the jungle he went.

Chapter 2: An Intruder Is Dealt With

Boy was intently watching the game of life... and death... in the huge laboratory that was his home. The bird he was watching appeared to be completely unaware that it was about to become the meal of the almost invisible green snake that was wound around a branch only a foot above its victim. Boy watched interestedly as the snake's head went through a series of subtle, but complicated movements as it evaluated the prey. It was, in Boy's estimation, only a few seconds away from striking when Cheetah came swinging... and screaming... through the canopy.

The bird flew off just as the snake dropped his head to strike. Boy looked up disgustedly at his father's companion and frowned.

"Why do you have to be so noisy?" he said in a language that, to this day, has not been recorded or fully analyzed, but which is known to have been understood by a variety of animals in that part of the jungle.

His disgust flashed to ashes, however, as Cheetah yipped, signed and squealed about the interesting man-thing he'd seen only moments before. Boy understood that this was a "new" man thing, that looked like Boy, or maybe like his mother, he couldn't tell for sure. With a forced breath that came out as a low toned honk, Boy told Cheetah to lead him to the place he had seen this.

Later, when his mother wanted to know exactly where things had taken place, Boy took her to the place he started from, and then to where he found Penny. Jane estimated, in her own mind, that it was a distance of some two Kilometers or so from where Cheetah found him. Boy covered it in less than ten minutes, which would have been astonishing, had he been running. But there were a whole bunch of trees in the way, as well as a fair sized river, and it was faster to go as Cheetah did, from branch to branch, using vines, like his father had taught him.

He heard the new person before he saw her. Cheetah was sitting on a tree branch up ahead - Cheetah always won their races - and was staring intently down into a clearing and pointing his long, hairy arm. Boy's first thought was that Cheetah had been imagining things. Cheetah had said the man thing was in trouble, and was making the "I need much help quickly" noise.

But what Boy heard was a female voice moaning, loudly, admittedly, but NOT as if she were in horrible pain. It WAS an interesting sound, however, because it DID have pain in it, thought not TERRIBLE pain. There was also... pleasure.

"How odd." Thought Tarzan's son of seventeen years.

But when he got to a place where he could see what was going on in the clearing, he quit thinking about things philosophically and sprang into action.

He was careful. His foe had a blow gun and the poison in those darts would affect even an animal as big as he was. He opted for using a vine to swing down and appear from above, as it were. If his feet were positioned just right, he would probably break the ribs of the cannibal who was in the process of eating what appeared to be a white woman, like his mother.

And he was eating her alive!

Penny knew she was done for. When her eyes cleared and she was able to see the... thing... that had captured her, she realized he was some sort of aboriginal native. THIS man met her full expectations of the dangerous black Africans she had in her stereotype-muddled brain when she accepted this assignment. She knew immediately that she had, in fact, arrived in deepest, darkest, and surely... most dangerous Africa.

He was dressed, if you could call it that, in bird feathers, primarily, with bits of fur and bleached bones held to various parts of his body with vines of some sort. More than one of these bones were... human, based on her university biology classes. His appearance was picture post card perfect for that of a cannibal, and she came to the dreadful conclusion that this man was going to kill her.

Her mind stopped there, lest she sink into that deep place in her mind that was only blackness, a place where many people who are institutionalized live, on a daily basis. She refused to let herself think of what might happen to her body after she died.

All this flitted through her mind as she took in deep rasping breaths and screamed her lungs out in mindless terror. She jerked on her arms and legs wildly, at the vines that restrained her, spread eagled on the ground. They dug into her soft flesh and she bled.

Another thing that went through her mind was how, when she'd originally been hired into the firm as a Solicitor, she'd ached to get into court, where the REAL action was. And, after she'd worked her wiles on the partners, she'd gotten her way. As a Barrister she was ferocious and tenacious, actually quite good at defending the rich clients her firm represented. Many a prosecutor thought long and hard about settling, rather than face her in court. As such, she had come to think of herself as indestructible and free to pursue her plans at her whim.

Until now.

Suddenly and violently, she faced one of the people she would happily have defended in court for just such an incident as this, had he enough money to hire her.

But she was dealing with him as a victim... she was on the wrong side of the table. And she wasn't going anywhere soon.

Her captor moved from where he had been squatting, watching her writhe and scream. She wished she couldn't see now. Her horrified eyes saw him stand up and saw his hand stroke his very erect knobby and bent phallus. He stepped between her legs and she struggled against her restraints again, causing only more pain and bleeding.

But when he kneeled, he didn't ravish her with that awful club, as she expected.

Instead he lowered his mouth to her sex and began to lick and suck at her vulva.

Malatiku was puzzled. He'd seen the older men of the tribe having sex many times, and he had taken slaves himself. He expected this woman who looked so different to BE different. But she tasted like any woman, which surprised him. He lifted his face and examined her milk bags. They were bigger, rounder than the girls in his village had. Maybe they were full of tasty milk. He planned on cutting them off and eating them. He hoped they'd be sweet.

He sucked hard at each of the strange pink nipples to see if they were sweet.


The screaming stopped, though, and she moaned. Now there were just wracking sobs. All the slaves sobbed and cried when this was done to them. Maybe she was just like any other woman, except she was albino. He wanted to taste her juices. If he worked on her long enough they would come. Then he could put his seed in her. Then he could feast.

Penny collapsed, exhausted from her screaming and the sobs that had jerked her body violently. The animal meant to have sex with her, that much was plain. She was so disgusted by the thought that her cherished virginity would be lost to this piece of human shit that she thought she'd rather just die and get it over with.


He moved to her nipples and she moaned in dismay. Her nipples had always been her weak spot. They were so sensitive she could have an orgasm just by squeezing and mauling them. Her moan was filled with self loathing as the sparks she loved so much shot from her nipples to her pussy. Then he stopped and went back to that pussy, which was now beginning to produce moisture, against her will. A tiny place in her mind took the time to be astonished that her body would betray her in these circumstances. She had once gotten a man free from a rape charge by getting his victim to admit she had had an orgasm during the act. That had proved, to her mind, and that of the jury, that it hadn't really been rape.

As his nose dug between her virgin folds, her body betrayed her as it reacted naturally to physical stimulus and began to prepare her for the penis it expected to enter her. Penny felt shame, on a number of levels.

She was beside herself. Rage battled with lust and shame as, despite her strongest attempts to stop them, her hips lifted off the ground, or tried to. Because she was stretched so tightly she couldn't move them and the agony of unfulfilled passion was added to the mix of conflicting emotions washing over her.

Then he lifted his painted face and moved up, over her. Now was the time. She lifted her head and cried out "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" as she saw his rigid penis only inches away from her pink vulva.

The head of his penis nudged between her nether lips and, with a cry of dismay she let her head flop back on the leafy forest floor. There was pain as her cherished maidenhead was stretched...

And then... nothing!

Except the whoosh and thud that were somehow involved with the magical disappearance of her rapist. She raised her head again, staring wildly around, but he was gone!

Was it some demented dream? She tried to rub her eyes.

She was still staked out tightly.

A sound to her right caused her to crane her head. She could barely see. There were TWO men now, her attacker and another man... a WHITE man! They were grappling!

Suddenly she felt something at her thighs. She looked and screamed at the hairy monster that was now between her legs, its face inches from her wide open pussy. It sniffed, and then ran its tongue from her anus to her clitoris. Then it screeched and shook its head wildly, its evil teeth grinning as it hopped up and down, its arms flapping in the air.

Penny's over stimulated brain gave up and she slid, almost gratefully, into darkness.

Her respite didn't last long. All too soon she regained consciousness. She felt something at her left wrist and turned her head. The chimpanzee - she recognized it now - was fiddling with the vines, like it was trying to free her. The sounds of a scuffle caused her to roll her head the other way. Now she could see them better. They had moved into her line of sight. They were about the same height and she realized the white man was young.

"Help" she croaked inanely. As if he didn't have enough on his plate already.

The native had a knife, the knife he had cut her clothes off with, and had run down her body in a way that made it crystal clear what he planned to do in the near future.

The youth had nothing.

They broke apart and the savage grinned, baring his pointed teeth. He spoke, some gibberish, and the boy answered him in the same tongue. The cannibal rushed, swinging the knife wildly. The boy stepped sideways, stuck out his foot and her assailant went sprawling. With a cry of rage he bounded to his feet and charged again, only to be thrown in what looked for all the world like a Judo movement.

This time the native came at him more slowly, carefully, the knife weaving a line up, sideways, down. He slashed and the boy kicked him in the face with the bottom of his foot. The native went flying.

But the boy howled and held his foot up, looking at the bottom of it where the native's sharpened teeth had penetrated the skin. He didn't seem to see her assailant leap to his feet and charge, the knife held low.

She screamed again and the boy's eyes darted to her. The pragmatic part of her mind realized she had just distracted him further from the danger behind him.

"BEHIND YOU" she screamed.

He dove into a roll toward her and came up with his heel touching her ribs, facing the charging rapist.

What happened then was too fast for her to see, but the grappling pair ended up wrestling right above her. At one point she was afraid they would step on her and she strained frantically at her bonds.

Suddenly, without warning, there was a rush of hot red liquid that splattered across her stomach and breasts, so hot she gasped. The pair above her froze and there was a horrible groan and the rattle of a man's last breath leaving his body. More blood splashed on her torso and she began screaming again and closed her eyes, afraid to see which man's blood had drenched her. That scream took everything she had and she subsided into quiet, about to begin sobbing.

It was silent until there was a thud on the ground next to her, the thud of a body flopping tonelessly.

She cracked one eye open.

Standing above her, his chest and groin stained bright red, legs spread and head turning, listening, evaluating for danger, was the white boy.

Penny sobbed with relief and began babbling. He leaned over and pressed one finger against her lips, silencing her. She couldn't stifle her sobs, but she quit yammering and tried to get her breathing under control. She stared up at the naked youth. She found her eyes drawn magnetically to his hanging phallus, long and slim... and dripping thick red drops of blood... onto her.

Finally he relaxed a little. He stepped away from her and leaned over to examine her attacker's body, as if there were any possibility he might be alive. Then he looked at the knife, now in HIS hand. He examined it carefully and sniffed, as if not impressed with it, but he didn't toss it away. His eyes fixed on her clothing, cut and torn and scattered about and he went to poke through it.

Penny had calmed down considerably, and the fact that this jungle man hadn't yet released her from her bonds pushed its way to the surface of her mind.

"YOU!" she called "YOUNG MAN!"

He ignored her as if she hadn't spoken.

"BOY!" she yelled again. His head turned toward her. Better. Now she could get him to act. "COME - HERE BOY! she said in exaggeratedly slow and well-pronounced English. "YOU - MUST - RE - LEASE - ME... LET - ME - UP!" She pulled at the vines still restraining her to show him what she wanted.

His head turned away. He saw the briefcase and went to it.

"NO!" she screamed. "LEAVE THAT ALONE! THAT - NOT - FOR - YOU!" she ended up, again exaggerating her pronunciation. Again he glanced at her. "THAT - MINE. - YOU - NO - BOTHER - THAT".

He fiddled with the buckle on the case and it fell open.

"NO!" she yelled again. "STOP THAT. YOU HELP ME... NOW... HERE... HELP Meeee" her voice dropped off into a whine as he upended the satchel and dumped all her papers on the ground. He pawed through them, lifting one and peering at it, then dropping it to lift another. He looked at the backs of the pages and peered at the squiggly lines written on the fronts. It was obvious he wasn't just reading them. It was quite possible he'd never even seen paper. He picked up a fountain pen and played with it. When it came open he played with it until it got ink on his finger.

Then, unaccountably, he stuffed everything back into the satchel, including her clothing and threw it beside her body.

She was crying quietly now as he walked over to stand over her. The blood on his torso had dried somewhat and was now darker. He looked ferocious covered in that dark substance. He stared at her, looking pointedly at her breasts.

His penis, which had been hanging, moved... jumped, and began lengthening. His eyes raked down to her exposed pussy, which was now crusted with her dried juices.

His prick grew longer and began to stand up.

Penny moaned and began crying harder.

"Oh PLEASE don't rape me" she cried. "Oh please just let me go. I can't take this."

She bawled and realized that part of the pain she felt was her bladder, which had been overfull and was now emptying itself without her conscious control, due to her fright. She wept, ashamed that her yellow urine was splashing between her legs, arching up in the air as her muscles eased the strain of keeping it in.

He stepped back, his eyes going wide. His penis was now fully hard.

Without warning he bent over and slashed at the vine holding her left foot. She was so surprised that she didn't even move the leg. When he freed her right foot she reacted, snapping her legs closed and pulling with her arms, moving her body so she could bend them. She began struggling furiously and felt pain in her wrists.

"NO!" said the boy.

She froze at an English word spoken aloud. He bent over and Penny held stock still as he sawed with the knife, releasing one hand, then the other. He stood back, watching, as if to see what she would do.

Penny thought to just sit up, stand up and demand that this savage white boy take her immediately back to Leopoldville, where she could regroup for her search. He obviously wasn't Tarzan, and didn't appear to speak a word of English other than "No".

But she wasn't about to give up and return with her tail between her legs, at which point those lecherous old men would smile and make sympathetic sounds, saying they should have known better than to send a woman to do a man's job.

When she tried to sit up, however, she found she had no real strength left. She had to roll over and push her body off the ground, one part at a time, her joints aflame as they contracted from being cruelly stretched. She would later learn that stretching the joints like that made it much easier to butcher the body with the primitive knives the natives had.

The boy stood and watched the entire time, offering nothing.

"At least you could help me up you horrible boy" she grumbled as she got up on one knee and began to stand.

It took her three tries to stand up and when she did she looked like a walking corpse, covered with leaves, twigs and blood. Her legs were wet with her urine.

Still the boy stood and watched.

Then, standing, she looked down at the ground and saw the briefcase. It was only a meter away, but that meter was down, and it had just taken her SO much work to get UP that she dreaded even TRYING to bend over and pick it up.

She'd had visions of walking strongly and confidently into the city, leading this savage boy... SAVING this savage boy, whose parents obviously were piles of bones rotting in the jungle... Those visions faded as she slowly bent and picked up the case, which before had only weighed five or six pounds, but now was somehow filled with lead.

When she finally made it back up she looked at her 'savior' and said "I - need - help. You (she pointed at him) must - help - me."

It had been a rough morning, so we must forgive her for forgetting to mention Leopoldville as a destination he could take her to. It also never occurred to her to ask to be taken to Tarzan of the Apes. And, she completely missed the fact that he had reacted appropriately to her screamed warning, in addition to saying the word... "No".

Without a word he turned and walked away from her.


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