Gay Erotic Stories

Part One -- Wrath of the Natashi

Dr. Richard Cargill was a professor, explorer and treasure hunter. His painstaking research and planning had always brought him his prize. Every one of his campaigns had been a success--until this one.

At the moment, Cargill found himself stripped naked and suspended from the wrists under a giant tree. This tree stood alone in the center of a village clearing somewhere in southern Africa, hundreds of miles from nowhere. His misery had begun earlier that day, when he and the three surviving load bearers of his expedition had been captured, pounced upon by a tribe of fierce female warriors, the Natashi.

He had spent the morning watching helplessly as his men were brutally tortured and executed. Tied naked to eight-foot vertical poles buried into the ground, the men’s wrists had been crossed and strapped behind the upper segments of the poles, leaving their feet dangling above the ground. Then the ankles were crossed and strapped behind them the same way below, stretching them and forcing their torsos to protrude in front of the poles, while the limbs were strapped behind.

Cargill was bound to his own torture device, suspended by ropes around the wrists, his feet a few inches off the ground. These two ropes led up to a high horizontal branch of the 60-foot tree, then continued over the branch and returned to the earth, where they were knotted to a four foot stake driven into the ground. Cargill faced his helpless men, as they struggled on their poles 10 yards away and facing him. It pained him to see the fear in their eyes. These were powerful physiques, having participated in many expeditions carrying heavy loads over hundreds of miles. With no shade to protect them, they now were drenched in sweat, as the mid-morning sun baked their skin and sapped their strength.

The tribal leader stood before her prisoners. Cargill had privately named this woman "Blue-face," she being the only Natashi warrior with any kind of markings on her body. Threatening, yet mesmerizing blue lines were perfectly painted onto her high cheek bones, designating her with a look of menacing authority. She shouted a command and her warriors sprang into action. They began brutally beating the men with wooden clubs. Two Natashi women were assigned to each of the victims and the pairs ruthlessly assaulted the helpless victims. As the warriors began to tire, Blue-face would order them to hand their clubs to the next groups of two's and the beatings would begin anew.

The men grunted and cried out as their chests and abdomens were viciously pounded to putty. Cargill could hear the unholy cracks and pops of ribs and other bones breaking. After every woman had taken a turn, Blue-face ordered that the beatings stop. She stalked up and down the line, inspecting the battered torsos to make sure her sister warriors had done a proper job. Then, she commanded the females to begin tearing the men's skin to shreds with whips. Two warriors were assigned to each of the victims. They relentlessly layed their whips across the battered bellies and chests of the pitiful prisoners, following the same pattern as before by passing the whips down the line, until all had been satisfied.

Cargill tried to shut out the unholy screams of agony coming from the poles. Their cries permeated the village, until he thought his head would explode. As the lashings ended, Cargill stared in disbelief at the remnants of his pitiful helpers. Their once glorious bodies now hung limp on the poles, sweat and blood intermingling to drip off their toes to the ground below. Their screams and pleadings had turned to sobs and moans. One of them seemed to praying, surely for death, as Cargill was praying for them too. He had led them here to this god-forsaken place, only to see them turned to bloody, battered, living corpses.

His anguish soon turned to shock and amazement. Appearing from one of the huts came a man -- a white man. He wore only a loin wrapping and some sort of crown of vegetation upon his head. Three females were knelt in front of the prisoners as the white man approached. They were tying together thin animal hide strips on the victims’ genitals, wrapping them behind the balls and over the tops of their penises, tightly securing the strips at the base. As the women stepped away, Cargill could see that the penises were becoming erect, the strips trapping blood in the manly organs of the victims.

Now the white man stood before one of the battered men. He knelt on the ground and began performing oral service on him. Cargill could see his helper’s body flex at the sensation the blow job was creating. Despite being half-dead, the man was forced to respond to the oral assault on his isolated and hardened penis. His face was shrouded with anguish and utter humiliation -- anguish from the pain of his brutalized torso -- humiliation from the degradation inflicted upon his exposed manhood.

The tempo increased and soon the prisoner shot his load into the tormentor’s mouth. The man continued sucking on the spent penis, coaxing every last drop to exit down the shaft and into his mouth. This relentless assault on the sensitive cock forced the prisoner to involuntarily flex and twitch, creating ungodly pain throughout his broken and battered body.

Then the white man released the organ, rose to his feet and proceeded to the next victim, where he knelt to perform the same task on that penis. Cargill watched in horror, as his poor men were one by one degraded before the female warriors. The Natashi were relishing this spectacle, laughing and pointing at the pitiful wretches stretched before them. This mysterious white man extracted the manly fluid from each one, leaving them spent and nearly lifeless on their torture poles.

The cock sucker now turned and approached the tree, followed closely by Blue-face and the rest of the tribe. Cargill shuddered. He knew they were coming for him, intending to violate his exposed manhood as they had the others, but he was wrong. He watched in a daze as the man ignored and drifted past him, continuing on until he reached the trunk of the mighty tree. The warriors formed a circle around the trunk behind Cargill and began a solemn chant. The suspended man strained to peek over his shoulder, trying to glimpse the activities at the tree. Cargill watched in wonder, as the white man stuffed his fingers into his throat and gagged himself. Soon the sperm of the three tortured men was regurgitated and spit onto the trunk of the tree.

The she-warriors broke into frenzied celebration, chanting, flailing their arms and dancing in wild circles. Cargill was sickened by the entire spectacle. His poor men had suffered unspeakable tortures, just so these savages could spit sperm onto a goddamn tree. And what was worse, it wasn’t the natives, but a supposedly civilized man who seemed to be instigating these atrocities.

The crazed celebration drifted back towards the three prisoners. Soon spears were piercing their chests and abdomens, finally ending their ungodly suffering. Cargill felt the mysterious white man’s presence behind him. Then he heard the voice. “Dr. Cargill, my name is Roger Trout.” ________________________________________

Part Two - The Kutambi Elephant

Cargill’s eyes widened upon hearing the name. Roger Trout was a famed explorer and treasure hunter like himself, but the name had faded from the memories of most people in this occupation.

As the story goes, Roger Trout had launched an expedition over 16 years ago, seeking the same treasure as Cargill. This man and all who came with him had not been heard from since, thought lost forever.

Trout smiled as he faced the prisoner and spoke. “I see you remember me. Imagine my delight when the scouts told me an expedition had passed through our jungle. I immediately knew what you were looking for. Did you find it?”

Cargill hesitated. He knew the first words he spoke would determine his immediate future.

“Find what?”

“Don’t insult me doctor. Surely, you were looking for the statue, the magnificent Kutambi Elephant -- more importantly, the tusks, the two little 10-inch tusks covered with hundreds of the most perfect diamonds ever known to mankind.”

“I found nothing. I failed just as you did. It is nothing but a myth. The ruins are still there, but nothing remains of value.”

“YOU LIE!” Trout began punching Cargill's defenseless body. He unleashed 16 years of frustration on the poor man. Fists rained onto his guts, rib cage and sternum. Cargill grunted and groaned, as he was ruthlessly beaten. Trout slowly circled the victim, continuing to pound him from the kidneys up to his shoulder blades. Returning to the front of the man, he landed more blows into his abdomen and belly again and again, until finally Trout tired.

Now both men were gasping for air. After several deep breaths, Trout continued the interrogation. “I went through your clothing. I read the notes on every chart and map you had with you. I saw your log book, doctor. Do you think I’m stupid?” Cargill was still trying to recover from the beating. He knew his game was up, but for one piece of the puzzle -- the diamonds. He had made no notes concerning the tusks. Their location was known only to his memory. He glared at his tormentor and changed the subject. “What kind of man are you? How could you stand by and let these savages murder those innocent men?” “None of that is your concern. You are alive and that is all that matters. I read all about your little misadventure. How and where you found the statue. How you lost it when your expedition was obliterated by the stampeding elephants. You mentioned that you left the statue behind on the plain, but what about the tusks? I know you were not foolish enough to leave them behind. Talk to me, Dr. Cargill.” Cargill flexed his chest as he spoke. “I left it all. What else could I do? Only three men were left and the tusks were gone. They were crushed into the ground along with the rest of my men and supplies. All we could do was try to survive and return to the coast.”

“You are a fool. You saw what happened to your men. Do not force me to let the women have their way with you.” Trout resumed pounding his prisoner’s torso, shouting one word in between each punch. “You...will...talk...NOW!” Cargill tightened every muscle in his helpless body to receive the pounding. He clenched his teeth and threw back his head, not wishing to see the blows rain on him. Trout again tired and the beating stopped.

“What you have witnessed here today will pale in comparison to what I have in store for you. I have waited 16 years for this day. I knew someone would come to seek my treasure. I will have it doctor. You cannot win.”

And with that, Roger Trout returned to his hut. The she-warriors had been busy cutting down the corpses of Cargill’s bearers. They took the carcasses to a seven-foot diameter pit dug into the earth a few yards to Cargill’s left. Smoke had drifted out of the pit since the entire spectacle had begun, adding to the already miserable late morning heat. He saw them brandish knives and remove something from the lifeless bodies. Cargill refused to believe what he thought he saw. After all, he couldn’t be sure and did not want to think about such a thing. Now the battered bodies were thrown into the pit, becoming fuel for the coals below. The stench of burning flesh soon permeated throughout the village. Blue-face received a bowl from one of the warriors, then she and the rest of the savage females disappeared into their huts, leaving the suspended man to suffer alone under the mighty tree.

Cargill’s entire upper body ached. The ropes suspending him burned his wrists, as they were forced to bear all of his weight. Gravity relentlessly stretched him. Although he was protected by shade from the mighty tree towering above him, his body was covered with sweat from the noon time heat and foul smoke drifting over him from the pit . Passing minutes seemed like hours. He thirsted for water, having received no sustenance since his capture, but relief would soon come. Blue-face emerged from her hut and entered another hut nearby. Soon she appeared and began coming towards the prisoner. Following behind her, three men of the tribe shuffled their feet, trying to keep pace with the tribal leader. Their shuffling came about because each one of their ankles was bound by ropes. A single binding wound around each ankle, running to the other and leaving two feet of rope in between their ankles, thus limiting the size of their steps . One of the men carried a bucket. Blue-face now stood before Cargill and flashed her teeth at him to display her fierce superiority. The suspended man was somewhat in awe of this female. Bright, electric blue designs on her high cheekbones nearly hypnotized him. Decorative wooden anklets were all that interrupted the feminine curves and lines of her ebony skin, and the beauty of her slender, but muscular legs and buttocks was matched only by the perfectly rounded breasts and commanding face. She turned to nod at the man with the bucket. He set it down and scooped out a wooden bowl full of water, lifting up for Cargill to drink. He voraciously lapped up the precious liquid, so eager to quench his thirst that he didn’t notice Roger Trout had joined the group. As the bowl was emptied and lowered, Cargill saw his antagonist now dressed in the very clothing that the Natashi had stripped from him that morning.

"Dr. Cargill, I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt. I have studied your notes and plotted a path back to the scene of your mishap."

Trout now mocked his prisoner. "You should have known that elephants are very sensitive creatures. They do not like to be disturbed when they are feasting. My, how they do love to strip bark and leaves from the Acacia trees!"

Cargill did not give his tormentor the satisfaction of a response.

"I estimate my journey to take two hours each direction. I will see for myself if what you say is true. Do not begin to guess what will happen to you if you have tried to deceive me."

Trout landed one more punch to Cargill’s stomach, and then spoke the language of the Natashi to the three men. Two of them shuffled over to the stake to untie the ropes and lower the prisoner back to earth. As Cargill collapsed to the ground, the third man cut the ropes from his wrists and immediately placed ankle restraints like his own onto the prisoner. Now the other two returned and brought Cargill to his feet.

Trout continued his sarcasm. "It is good that your clothes fit me. They seem to smell a bit sour. Tell me, do you always sweat like this or did something frighten you?" Cargill again was silent.

"Enjoy your temporary relief. In four hours I will return for you." Cargill silently watched, as Blue-face and Trout disappeared into the jungle growth surrounding the Natashi village.

End of Parts One & Two