Chapter 1

Melissa was terrified at the sight of the knife in the hands of a naked tribeswoman, but it was only used it to hack through Melissa’s belt, and her jeans were immediately hauled down. Another woman tore away her shirt and flimsy panties, leaving her openly naked to their amazed eyes. Howls of delight from the forty or so tribesmen surrounding her, indicated that her height, her firm pink tipped breasts and particularly, her blonde bush were something they had never seen before. Exposed to their hungry lustful gaze, Melissa could see no escape from multi-rape.

Melissa Freer, thirty-three years old, and an experienced anthropologist, had been cursing her own stupidity ever since the plane had crashed. She had been warned, but already knew, the dangers of this kind of expedition without full back-up. Yes, maybe she had been crazy to get excited over the rantings of an aged Indian, who had staggered out of the jungle, in what seemed a drunken state, displaying a massive erection, which only shrank when he died from exposure.

Before then, he had gabbled madly about short dark-skinned tribesmen, with, behind long loincloths, cocks that were bigger than expected in such little people. The women, even shorter, had round faces, tiny bare breasts and no pubic hair. The old Indian told of a tribe with strange sexual practices. That’s what had really intrigued Melissa, because the study of tribal sexual rituals was one of her specialisms.

She was fascinated by the idea of discovering, and writing about this, virtually unknown, tribe who knew nothing of the 21st century, and had never seen a white person. The added fact of their sexual habits, was just too tempting. So, for the first time, apart from her guide, Jose, she was doing it on her own. Little did she know that her decision was going to involve her in this tribe’s sexual practices more than she could ever imagine.

What might have happened if the pilot hadn’t had a heart attack she would never know. Jose had managed to cut the engine and reduce the rate of fall just before a tree sliced one wing away and the plane had spun to the ground. Melissa had regained consciousness to find Jose skewered on a long bar that had snapped from overhead and plunged down into his chest.

Even more frightening was the ring of ten, spear wielding warriors, all scowling, none more than four and a half feet tall. While trying to control her nerves, Melissa guessed she had found the tribe, by their naked dark skins with only a knee length piece of animal skin covering their genitals. So fascinating. More exactly, they had found her. Their black hair was shaved around the sides but was spiked on top.

Without having any hands laid upon her, but eyes that played on her corn-colored hair and the cleavage that showed at the low neck of her shirt, and no sign of friendship which she had known with other tribes, Melissa had been led, at spear-point, through the jungle to this village clearing. The whole tribe, men and women had surrounded her, pointing at her long golden hair, and the way her shirt jutted out. Many of the eyes were filled with pure lust, and the leader had signaled three tribeswomen, totally naked, small breasted, with hairless pubes, to strip her.

Vaguely she recalled the pilot having said that the plane had a continual tracking device which gave its location at any time. Could someone already be searching for the her? Standing there with all her goods on display, Melissa could only see this as a forlorn hope.

As she desperately tried to cover her mound, the tribesman she thought of as leader, came and knocked her hands aside, where they were grabbed by two tribeswomen. This leader stood in front of her, his head level with her breasts, which he ogled hungrily. Then his wild eyes set in a monkey-like face, feasted over the rest of her naked body, before he dropped to his knees, gazing in some wonder at her golden bush.

He waved a hand to it and called out something to the other tribesman, who grunted lustfully. When his fingers made to stroke into her bush, Melissa tried to back away, but was immediately held by two of the women. Rough fingers ploughed through her bush, he growled something, before burying his face in her bright triangle of curly hair, and Melissa felt his tongue licking through the hairs.

Oh, God, was this it? The start of her violation. Was his tongue about to dip into her slit? But she was surprised when he stood up, and grabbed his spear. He held it high with a gesture of triumph, and pointed it towards a hut at the far side of the clearing, and cried loudly “Kanga!” A word that Melissa would come to know only too well.

The clearing was dotted with wood and leaf huts. Most were roofed by green palm fronds, virtually unnoticeable from the air, but the one indicated was bigger and was decorated in animal skins and bright bird feathers. Was this the leader’s domain? Was he indicating where he was going to have her to himself? Melissa shuddered at the thought. Such an ugly, evil smelling little man, who would defile her body.

She also chilled at the reality of her bare body being gloated over by countless pairs of eyes. One bolder tribesman swept his loincloth to one side to reveal what Melissa, in calmer times, would have regarded as an average sized cock, hard and ready as he advanced menacingly towards her. Immediately the leader struck him to the ground with the butt end of his spear and snarled that word once more, “Kunga!”

Then he yelled it again and, with just a slight pause, he added, “Splunt!” And, leering into Melissa’s face, he pointed the tip of his spear at her bush, which set her legs trembling. This brought a roar from the tribesmen as the leader gave a fierce hip thrust, and flicked at the skin covering his groin leaving little doubt what that word meant. For the first time and in some terror, she noticed that the loincloth was jutting. Looking around she saw that it was not the only jutting loin cloth. It seemed to confirm all Melissa’s fears, especially when he called out a babble of instructions.

Immediately, a fourth woman joined the other three and the next second, with a woman clutching each arm, and the other two gripping each leg, Melissa found herself being lifted high above them. As she was carried she found that her legs were being held wide apart, as the women turned full circle giving a display of her pink folds and her open cunt to the whole tribe. There were roars of approval and cries of “Kunga! Kunga! Splunt! Splunt!”

To struggle would only inflame the tribesmen, who, she could see, even from this position, had their loin skins rising. Able to put her head back and get an upside-down view of their direction, she was surprised that it was not towards the decorated hut, but rather to where three flat stone slabs were prominent. The leader snapped another instruction, and Melissa’s blood chilled as she saw trails of dried blood down the sides of the stones. At the central stone, Melissa was lowered on to her back. Sacrificed? Was she to be sacrificed? Oh, God, and a pleading whimper escaped her, as other women came with ropes of twisted vine.

One rope was run across her upper belly, and fastened somewhere on either side. A rope was tied to each ankle, and fastened, so that she lay with her legs spread wide, yet her arms were free. The leader stood between her legs, licking his lips as he stared down to her precious pink cavern. Desperately trying to plead for salvation, Melissa could see his groin skin rising further. Now he would— Melissa thought she was right when he pulled his loincloth to one side to reveal a swollen cock. She had seen one or two solid cocks in her time, most of them bigger than this one which was totally out of proportion to his thin, short body, probably reaching beyond his navel. Probably big enough though, and she wondered whether all the tribesmen were that size, and was she going to find out the hard way? Now he gripped that tool with both hands and pointed it at Melissa’s exposed pink layers. He cried out something and the surrounding tribe cheered before he, to Melissa’s relief and surprise, stepped back, and issued further orders.

Now eight of the warriors who had brought her from the aircraft ranged, four on one side of her and four on the other. They had discarded their spears, and Melissa, fearfully, wondered what they were going to do to her. Her breath was shuddering in her throat, but then eight women appeared, and each knelt in front of one of the warriors.

To Melissa’s practiced mind this would have been a very interesting sexual practice, but, Jesus, she was part of it! As her eyes stared from side to side, the women tucked the groin covers of each warrior back to reveal already erect or semi erect cocks. She shuddered at the fact that they were all similar size to the leader’s, all with shiny maroon heads. Would they all get to stuff her insides?

Now the eight women went to work on the men, stroking, licking, clutching and sucking the erect cocks. Melissa was thinking that maybe she had no part in this ceremony, but the whole time, the warriors’ eyes never left her body. And she quickly discovered that she was wrong.

The leader kept issuing little instructions, and as each man called out, the chief gave a nod. On that nod, each woman, without releasing her hold stood up alongside her man until all eight warriors were poised and leaning over Melissa’s bared body with their pricks being directed towards her.

They weren’t going to do that, were they? At a word, each of the erect cocks spewed forth their cream, one from either side across her face, one from either side across her breasts, one from either side across her upper belly and the final shots across her bush and upper thighs. My God, they showed how far they could really spurt. Her skin crawling, Melissa felt the sticky, warm cum streaming across her body. Impulsively she raised her hands to wipe it from her face, but instantly her arms were gripped and held by a woman on either side.

The chief gave a nod and immediately the women moved over Melissa’s body and, to her initial disgust, began licking up the cum on her face, her breasts, belly and bush. The pair licking around her breasts seemed to be getting more out of it than just the cum, as their tongue lingered and pressed around her nipples. There was little doubt that all the women enjoyed this activity. One of the women gathered the male seed on one finger, looked into Melissa’s eyes, and sucked at her coated finger. In response, the woman opposite licked along Melissa’s cheek, and smacked her lips hungrily.

Melissa felt her emotions move from disgust to a vague sense of pleasure as the tongues moved over almost every inch of her. When they finally stepped back, her skin was tingling. During the licking, she realized that, apart from the ruffling through her hair, and the leader’s face being buried in her bush, no hand had really touched her bare skin. Well, maybe that once when she was lifted by the women earlier, but that hardly counted.

The sudden shock of a load of water being thrown over her body momentarily startled her. Fortunately, it was not cold water and must have been ready. Even as she wondered why it was necessary, a second load struck across her and almost instantly women appeared with harsh blankets to rub her dry.

Melissa was trembling. Here she was tied to a stone slab, her legs spread, but her hands free. She had been coated with cum, licked, and had water thrown over her. Her most intimate parts had been displayed, yet there had been no move to touch them, apart from the tongues of the tribeswomen. Her anthropologist brain found this an intriguing state of affairs. But, as she had already observed, too personal for comfort. Something else was going to happen.

In tune with her thinking, the leader was suddenly standing between her spread legs, and with her trembling increasing and her heart thumping, Melissa could see how his groin patch was pushing outwards. So, this was where he was going to rape her, not in his hut.

This leader stood above her, his eyes feasting over her breasts, and down to her pink folds. He made no secret of his lust for her. His tongue jutted out to lick his lips. God, what a tongue, Melissa thought, what would that be like in different circumstances?

Then she thought she was going to find out as, crouching low, the chief poked out his tongue so close to her entry, and without ever touching her, made licking and sucking motions. But within seconds, his eyes aflame with both lust and frustration, the leader stood up. But why wasn’t he taking her if he was so lustful?

If it wasn’t so serious, she might have thought that she might have had more sexual pleasure from his tongue than his dangerous looking cock. But at that moment, the chief, half turning towards the decorated hut, cried out, “Kunga! Kunga! Kunga! Splunt! Splunt! Splunt!” Oh, God, it was to be in his hut, but as she raised her head she saw that the warriors who had shot cum over her body, were now forming two lines like a guard of honour right up to the hut. The one she had been calling leader was kneeling in some form of supplication, facing the hut, as were all the other tribesmen and women.

Melissa held her breath as the covering over the doorway parted, and she gasped when the first person to emerge was a wizened little woman, different from the other women because she was covered by an animal skin. She looked very old, yet had to be someone special, as she held her hand back to someone else behind her.

A large hand appeared to clutch the hand of the old woman. Then a figure emerged slowly, stooping to get through the low opening, and a mighty chant went up from the whole tribe, “Kunga! Kunga! Kunga!” Melissa gaped as the figure straightened up to tower over all those around him. Her breath quickening, Melissa had to wonder how this could be possible. This man was well over six feet tall, made taller by being surrounded by such diminutive figures.

As he was dressed in jaguar skins and robe, with a head dress of bright bird feathers, Melissa had no doubt that this was Kunga, the real chief. The one she’d thought leader had to be deputy. What an imposing man he was with his broad, shoulders, skin of a lighter shade, and a face of regular, near handsome features. As he released the old woman’s hand, he bent to place his lips on the top of her near bald head. Astonished, Melissa could only guess at his history. It seemed obvious that the old woman was his mother. If that was the case, at some time in the past, she had given herself, or more likely been raped by a large man of less dark skin.

This Kunga was the result of that union. Now as he made his imperious way between the cheering masses his eyes were fixed straight ahead to where Melissa lay bound, and, she feared, awaiting his assault. Surely his weapon would be of acceptable size, but after, would she be taken by a multitude of hard cocks? She had to be ready to meet this nemesis. So, she raised her head and shoulders, taking her weight on her elbows. Melissa had decided to try a smile, and show that she knew his name or title, that they all chanted. After all, lying there with breasts on show and her most potent offering wide open to him, how welcoming was that?

Then he was standing, close to where his deputy, who she had heard him call Zana, had faked his licking. Jesus, this chief had green eyes. Who could his father have been? Weirdly looking at the stirring masculinity of this man, Melissa was very aware that in this impossible situation, being taken by this man might be a lesser evil. But what would he want to do to her and what would happen afterwards? She gave him her smile, raised one hand in a vague salute, and tried to sound reverent, as she said, “Kunga.”

For a moment, a surprised look crossed his face, but it was followed by the happiest expression she had seen since her arrival. Then his countenance became more serious as Zana came alongside him, to mutter, “Splunt?” Melissa heard the word spoken as a question, and she shivered as those green eyes hovered on her breasts and then down to her pink layers, where her hole must surely be visible. His head nodded as though in response to the deputy’s question, then he turned and his eyes fixed on her face.

Kunga slapped his chest with an open hand, and cried loudly, “Kunga!” His finger pointed directly at her, as he repeated the word and looked questioningly at her. Oh, that was promising, he wanted her name.

“Melissa,” she said quietly.

“Me-lis-sa,” he sounded it out, his head nodding, then he slapped his chest again, and said an unrecognizable word. Then he nodded his head, gave a half smile and said something to the scowling Zana, pointing his finger between himself and Melissa.

There was little doubt about his next statement, “Kunga Splunt Melissa.” And his hand went to his covered groin region. So now she knew exactly what it meant. He repeated it, “Kunga Splunt Melissa.” He pointed at his deputy, “Zana gamut Melissa.”

Melissa winced at the lip licking look Zana, gave her. What did camut mean? But Kunga hadn’t finished. He waved a hand imperiously over the warrior guards who had fallen in to follow him, said a word and added, “Tetta Melissa.” A mighty cheer went up from the warrior guards. Oh, Jesus God, what was he telling them? She’d hoped he would want to keep her to himself. Being shared was not going to be good for her.

Kunga had moved around to one side of the stone and he placed a hand on Melissa’s cheek. She would never know why, but she cringed away from the very first hand to sensuously touch her that day. Kunga frowned but lowered a hand to squeeze at one breast. The squeeze was a little too hard to be loving, and Melissa’s fears rose once again, as she shrugged sideways. Kunga frowned, then he turned to two of the waiting women and spoke abruptly to them. One moved forward and took his jaguar covering away, while the other pulled at ties at the top of his robe.

Meanwhile, Kunga had removed the feathered crown from his head and passed it to one of the tribesmen. His robe was whipped away by the woman and his whole naked body was exposed to Melissa’s eyes. Oh, Jesus God, his cock wasn’t fully erect but this one beat anything she had seen on any of her lovers. What damage could he do to her with a weapon like that? She shuddered at the possibilities. As she watched with wide frightened eyes, one of the women reached out to stroke it, obviously, a habit in such situations.

Kunga knocked the hand away, leaned closer to Melissa, pointed at his cock and said, “Melissa.” Now he reached for her hand, obviously wanting her to bring him to erection. Melissa drew her hand away, intending to play a little game of ‘hard-to-get’. But Kunga gave a low growl and stalked away to stand once more between her legs.

He placed his hands roughly on her thighs, rubbing up towards her fleshy parts, but then retreating as he called out, “Meckdok.” Almost instantly a tribesman appeared, clutching a small clay urn, which he handed to Kunga. Melissa watched him take a mouthful of whatever liquid was there. Handing it back to the tribesman, he pointed to Melissa, and said something.

Melissa had no intention of drinking some unknown substance so she turned her head away. Next moment her head was gripped by a pair of powerful hands while another hand gripped her nose and tilted her head back. The moment she gasped for air, the urn was at her lips and a small amount of the liquid was flowing down her throat.

It didn’t taste too bad, something spicy, she thought. While that thought took root, she saw Kunga’s cock spring to full erection, amazingly quickly, frighteningly big, curving upwards like a large animal horn with a blunt end. Suddenly the fluid was a ball of fire burning its way to her core, waves of heat extended from it, and her blood flowed hotly around her body. Deep down, there was a pulsing that she did not recognize, moistness seeped between her thighs, and inner cunt muscles began pulling at something that wasn’t there. Unexpectedly the prospect of that native cock was not so worrying. She almost craved it.

Raising her head, she saw Kunga leaning down reaching between her legs with one hand while the other waved his stiff cock at her. Oh, yes, that was her need. Her mind was fuddled by her sudden desire. The head of that king-size cock was purple, not maroon, like the tribesmen. The next instant she was giving out a screech of delight as Kunga darted a finger up inside her, then another finger, and he was twisting them around like a flue brush, driving her into a wild frenzy of longing.

How quickly this state had come over her. Her swift passionate acceptance of his touch could only be down to this concoction, this meckdok. God, she was hot. Desperate to have the growing avid emptiness down there filled up, she cried out, “Splunt. Ooh, splunt.” But would that massive rod heaving up inside her damage her.

Kunga gave a hearty laugh of triumph, removed his fingers, placed his huge purple cockhead at her entry and with one mighty heave plunged into the very depths of her being. Melissa was driven into instant ecstasy. Pain was there too, but it was overridden as Kunga was filling her, his cock felt immense. Every fibre of her cunt flared at this great rod heaving along it. But she was taking it, taking it all. Her cunt walls felt as though they had expanded just to accept it. His cock drew back just a little before it plunged up again, and, God, her own hips bucked to receive it.

Her first orgasm took her out of herself, and she felt she was riding on the whole of this large cock. How could this wonderful sensation be her receiving a rock-hard cock so gratefully from a wild tribesman? She was no stranger to good sex, but this—her cunt had never had anything of such dimensions driving her to a new kind of frenzy.

One more lunge and she was gone on another wild ride. It was like being caught up in a raging torrent, as she was vaguely aware of the yells of “Splunt! Splunt!” from the watching tribesmen. While her insides were being totally serviced, she drifted away, on a crazed tide of delight.

As she slowly came out of it, she saw Kunga, leaning over her, still riding his rod deep into her. Thrust after thrust, filled her. To think she had feared his entry. Surely it had to be this meckdoc that had so prepared her cunt for this invasion, and at the same time opened every pore to the joy of it, Unexpectedly, just as she waited for his explosion inside her, his cock was quickly pulled out, leaving a total emptiness in her belly. Turning her head, she saw that many of the tribesmen spectators were playing with their own cocks, holding them up, pulling at them so that the maroon shining heads pointed in her direction.

Kunga, with a grimace of power, strutted around to her right side. Holding his cock, shining with her juices, in one hand, he caressed her breast with the other, leaned forward and sucked at the nipple, sucked hard. That was enough to make Melissa want to scream that word again. Her whole being was still on fire and she didn’t want it extinguished, but she did want it fed. Why was he teasing her like this, as he pressed his cock against her nipple, before pressing it into the softness of her breast?

But there was more on his mind as he moved up to her face and held his cock there, massive, throbbing, threatening. Christ, the way that stuff had her feeling, she would take it anywhere, three places at once would be the ideal. She should be fearful of taking this implement into her mouth, coated as it was, with her own juices. But that magic liquid had made a harlot of her. Without further thought her lips closed around the monstrous organ and she took it as far as she could to the back of her throat, tasting her own juices. As she gagged on the head striking at the back of her throat, she glanced down to see inches of the wide weapon that she just could not take in and she gripped them with one hand as he roughly fucked her face.

While pushing to the back of her throat, his hand dipped down and one finger entered her abandoned hole, before trailing along to her clit, to play there. Melissa was now in a desperate state, in a condition she had never known, totally lost to the rapacious needs of the holes in her body. Having her face fucked by this metal rod was amazing, and she sucked on it madly. But his fingers teasing her clit were driving her crazy.

Panting, she pulled her head away from his cock and gasped, “Splunt. Oh, splunt!” She saw him nod his head as he repeated the word, and he moved back to his position between her legs. Awaiting that wild thrill, Melissa became aware of the noises from the watching hordes. Hell, all her activity and passion could be leading to something she didn’t want to think about.

But that magnificent rod was searing up inside her again, and nothing else mattered. She orgasmed almost immediately, her squeals of delight rising above the gleeful encouragement of the tribespeople. Kunga looked down at her as she drifted, and from whatever cloud she was on, he became the most handsome fucking man in the world.

Kunga continued his deep fucking action and Melissa knew that every fibre of her passage was aflame, burning like nothing she had ever felt from a male entry. Something in that amazing drink, had brought her to this, yet she had taken so little. So wild was her thinking, as Kunga pounded his massive tool into her, that she wondered if she might take some home. If she ever got home. That thought almost killed the exquisite sensations in her body.

Kunga was leaning right over her as he just kept on fucking, and Melissa was telling herself that she had never been fucked like this, and she knew that if he went on with much more force she would be having a third orgasm. How about that? But as the thought struck, Kunga began to grunt, the pace of his thrusts increased, and she knew he was about to pour his load into her. Faster, harder, and the watching crowds were cheering. Did they know what was happening to her as all the stimulation of Kunga’s thrusts lifted her once more, just as he yelled his own name, “Kunga!” and gave a mighty heave that lifted her backside off the slab. Melissa wasn’t sure whether that was his cum oozing inside her, or her own juices released. Whatever it was, it had been wildly, painfully glorious.

Kunga leaned over her and said something that ended, “---Melissa.” Surely what she had heard was very genuine gratitude. Now, as his cock still looking stiff pulled out of her, she felt his stuff running on her thighs. He stepped back and Melissa was horrified to see two women begin licking and sucking clean his noble cock. Other women stood by with his robe and animal skin, and his feather crown was placed on his head.

He moved off along the row of spear waving, chanting tribesmen. As he reached the hut, his mother met and hugged him. Melissa lay back, and reviewed the joys of her time with Kunga. How much of her pleasure had been due to Kunga and how much to that liquid?

Next instant, Zana called out a command, and a great moan rose from the tribesmen. What was exciting them? Then Melissa’s arms were grabbed, cords were slipped over her wrists, and she ended up spread on the slab.

Why this? Lifting her head, her whole body sagged inside. A near naked warrior was approaching, and on the end of a leash was a large black jaguar. Oh, no, not this. She heard her own whimper of terror, as the animal was directed between her spreads thighs. The tribesman was keeping a very tight grip on the collar as he guided its head, and in horror Melissa felt a rough tongue begin lapping eagerly at Kunga’s cum that was running on her thighs. This was clearly a deliberate ritual but was it going to eat her?

As the tongue licked higher, she recognized the familiar roughness of a cat’s tongue, but that tongue was licking hungrily at the cum lodged in her wet lower lips. Would they get it to fuck her? Jesus, please, not that. But the rough tongue trailing along her whole slit now, digging deeply and hungrily into her pink folds, from clit right along to probe into her cunt opening was beginning to excite her. Surely that had to be the fluid she had drunk. A licking Jaguar couldn’t thrill her, could it?

Then without warning the animal was dragged away from her, and raising her head, she saw, with a gasp of relief the jaguar being led out of the area. Her relief was short-lived as she saw ten eager faced warriors, the guard of honour, come close on both sides, their loincloths discarded to reveal erect cocks. On the slope behind them other tribesmen, hands under their loincloths, were settling to be keen spectators. Worse, for her peace of mind was the sight of Zana, his thin monkey face almost smiling, standing between her spread thighs looking down at her triumphantly, pulling at his erect prick as he yelled, “Zana camut Melissa.”

The tribesmen cheered, and began a steady chant that would go on and on, “Camut Melissa.! Camut Melissa!” Zana had moved around one side of the stone, as his hands, rough as sandpaper, trailed over her belly, and scratched across her breasts.

Zana raised his head, gave a leering grin before straddling her chest, holding his stiff cock towards her mouth.

Melissa groaned at the stench coming from his rancid equipment. A stomach-churning mix of sweat, piss and had it already been up one of the tribal women? She tried to turn her head away but he grabbed her hair, and forced her mouth against his hardness. Reluctantly she parted her lips and his cock rode in to lie along her tongue. So now she knew near exactly how long their erect cocks could be, long enough to do damage, long enough to push at the back of her throat. Remembering the heavy spurts that had been sluiced across her body, Zana could fire his disgusting cum easily down her throat. Then Melissa thought, better there than having his vile stuff awash in her mouth.