Gay Erotic Stories

Part Three -- The Human Pendulum The three men escorted Cargill towards their hut. He wearily staggered, as they shuffled along, his body exhausted from hours of torturous suspension, beatings and denial of water. Once in the hut, he was laid chest down onto a straw floor mat, where he immediately fell asleep. The men began washing away the sweat and dirt from his body, but Cargill felt none of this. His mind was dreaming of places far, far away -- places of peace and tranquility. The men soothed his body with salves and ointments, applying them with deep muscle massages.

When Cargill awoke he was lying on his back. He felt refreshed, but hungry. One of the men offered him a bowl filled with some kind of meat. He recognized the odor and texture of snake meat and began to fill his belly. As he ate, one of the men verbalized something to him. Through his studies of African cultures, Cargill was able to interpret bits and pieces of what the man was saying.

He wanted to know where the white man came from. Using words he knew and hand gestures, Cargill tried to describe his far-away world to the savages. Their wide-eyed smiles confirmed their understanding of what he was telling them, and then Cargill asked about them.

The gist of it was this. They were born into the tribe as slaves, used only for servitude and reproduction. Here the females ruled. Only one of ten male infants born to the tribe was allowed to survive. These men’s entire lives had been spent in this constantly guarded hut, being allowed to leave only when summoned to perform tasks for the females, usually labor, but sometimes functional sexual intercourse.

Cargill laughed when the man indicated “fuck” by inserting his index finger into a circle made with his other hand. He was saddened by the plight of these men, but wondered if they really knew how bad things were for them. He tried to make them understand that in his world men and women were equal, at least that was the goal. Again, their excitement over his world showed in their faces. Cargill began to feel a bond forming amongst the four of them, but this train of thought was interrupted. Trout and Blue-face had entered the hut.

“Dr. Cargill, I do not believe your story. The corpses and supplies, even the statue, were clearly visible. The Kutambi Elephant is in my hut right now, but the tusks and diamonds are gone. Where did you take them?”

“Someone beat you to the prize, Trout. I left it all there.”

“You take me for a fool, but I assure you that I am not. Soon you will gladly tell me everything I want to know.”

Trout and Blue-face stormed out of the hut. Within minutes, two she-warriors entered and brought Cargill to his feet. They cut the ropes from his ankles and led him back towards the tree, where the entire tribe was gathered and waiting.

The suspension ropes had now been modified. One rope each was attached to the end of a five-foot log five inches in diameter. Cargill was positioned facing away from the tree and the log placed on his shoulders. Then his arms were stretched in opposite directions and wrists strapped to the log. The ropes were pulled to lift Cargill’s arms past his head, until his toes barely touched the ground. Now a log of equal size was brought from behind him. Large rocks had been tied to the top of the log, together weighing 45 pounds. Cargill's feet were spread one foot apart and ankles then strapped to the front of the log. Once again, the ropes were pulled several inches and tied to the stake at the other end, leaving his feet three inches off the ground.

Cargill groaned in pain and humiliation, as he was again suspended naked before the savage females. The weight of the rocks increased his crucifixion stretching, forcing his chest to expand and belly to flatten. Immediately, he struggled to breathe, his diaphragm being hopelessly compressed.

Soon Trout and Blue-face stood before their prisoner. Roger Trout had returned to his tribal garb of loin wrap and vegetation crown. “Cargill, this will be a long, torturous evening for you. Your fate will not be a quick merciful death like those of your companions. No, I will make sure these women take it slow and easy on you. Now, tell me about the diamonds.”

Cargill glared at his tormentor. “You had your chance. If you didn’t find them it is not my fault. For all these years you have failed to claim the prize. Why should today be any different?”

Trout furiously threw his right fist into the pit of Cargill’s stomach. The victim tightened his abdominals with all his might to receive the blow, creating a dull thud as the punch landed. Trout’s knuckles felt like he had punched a brick wall. Angrily, he resumed pounding on the stomach from left and right, viciously trying to knock the air out of the man. Cargill greeted each blow with masculine grunts and groans of ooghs and ughs. Now Trout turned and shouted an order to the warriors. Cargill gasped for air in an attempt to recover from the beating. Struggling to breathe, he flexed his arms and legs, lifting his torso up, until his arms were parallel with the log. Now he sucked in precious oxygen at a rapid pace, and then slowly lowered his body to resume its stretched position. The females were taken aback by this display. They seemed to be mesmerized by the strength and defiance shown to them by the prisoner. Trout repeated his order to Blue-face, who jolted the warriors into action. They immediately ran for the storage hut, where they each retrieved a five-foot pole one inch in diameter. Now they returned to the crucified man, forming a circle of 12 around him.

Trout stood before the prisoner. “This is your last chance. Where are my diamonds?” Cargill flexed his chest in defiance. “Go to hell.”

Trout leaned down to grab the lower log. Then he began spinning the prisoner and twisting the ropes above together. Soon two became one and Trout gave the victim a shove. Cargill swung towards the edge of the circle, where he was greeted by the rounded end of a pole. He grunted as the pole jabbed into the middle of his back, stopping his momentum.

Using her pole to push, that warrior then sent Cargill in another direction, only to be greeted by another jab into his gut. The helpless man was sent from one part of the circle to another. All the while, the ropes were unwinding and spinning him in a clockwise direction.

Cargill grunted with each attack, as he was mercilessly jabbed by a succession of wooden poles. His swinging motion increased the weight of the rocks at his feet and furthered his stretching.

And so the torture continued. The human pendulum was randomly poked and jabbed again and again until the ropes were completely unwound. Changing the angle of their weapons, the savages now whacked Cargill's crucified torso with the sides of their poles when he swung in their direction. The wooden weapons now being used like whips, Cargill's skin stung with each whack on his stretched body. The momentum of his swinging gradually decreased, making the diameter of his circles take him out of reach of the tormenting poles. The warriors stood their ground silently, as the beaten man swung in smaller and smaller circles, finally becoming stationary in the center of the perimeter.

Cargill was groaning in agony. Small red spots and long red lines dotted his skin on the back, chest, stomach and buttocks. The stretching and crucifixion were taking their toll, causing his breath to become more labored. Trout approached to further antagonize the man.

“How do you feel now? Are you ready to talk?”

Cargill summoned his strength. He had to allow himself more air, so again he strained the arms to pull his body up and alleviate the pressure. The she-warriors gasped at this manly display, as every muscle of his powerful physique flexed to capacity, but Trout was not impressed. He launched another assault on the tightened abdominal muscles.

“Damn you, come back down here. Do you think you can defy me? I will break you doctor. Talk now!”

The tormented man jutted out his lower jaw to answer between each punch. “You...will... never...break me.”

And with that, Cargill slowly allowed his body to return to its stretching. Trout took the opportunity to land his punches to the prisoner’s chest and rib cage. Now he was crimson with anger, but soon tired of throwing punches to the man’s defenseless torso.

The tormentor nodded to Blue-face. She barked an order and the 12 warriors left the circle. Passing their poles to the next group, a new circle of 12 was formed. Two at a time, they ran towards the helpless man. Simultaneously, Cargill was speared on opposite sides of his stretched body by the poles.

The first assault was launched in the middle of his back, coupled with the sternum. The poles were driven into him like stakes, bringing pressure to his chest and back at the same time. Cargill gasped in shock from the initial blow. Now he emitted manly groans as the warriors stood their ground and drove the poles into him like daggers. Meanwhile, Trout stood by to continue the questioning.

“Where are my diamonds, Cargill? Where did you hide them?”

The crucified man continued with his tortured grunts, summoning all of his strength to withstand the poles grinding into him. Blue-face shouted a command and the two removed their poles, leaving the perimeter of the circle. Immediately, two more charged from opposite sides. One pole struck Cargill’s lower back, while the other was embedded into his stomach. The victim flexed and writhed, expanding his chest and sucking in the abdominal cavity best he could.

The savage females waiting at the perimeter were all smiles and giggles, relishing in the poor man’s suffering, while Trout continued to torment his prisoner.

“Talk, Cargill. Talk now. You have lost. Talk and I will make them stop.”

Cargill was oblivious to the questioning. His mind was totally focused on withstanding this devastating assault on his abdomen and lower spine. Blue-face directed the proceedings, ordering two to leave and two to replace them. Poles now were driven into the man’s rib cage, one on each side, forced towards each other with Cargill caught in between. He howled from the agony of unrelenting pressure grinding into his exposed ribs, every muscle flexed to capacity. Trout’s taunting never ceased.

Each pair of savage warriors brutalized the crucified man with their spearing poles. He groaned and grunted with each new assault, while Trout tried to coax the answer from him. Finally, Cargill had withstood 10 attacks and only two warriors were left. Trout turned from the prisoner and spoke softly to Blue-face. Soon a warrior brought Trout a stool two feet high. He placed it to Cargill’s side and rose to meet the victim face-to-face. Cargill’s head rested on his chest as he moaned from the agony inflicted upon him.

“Haven’t you taken enough punishment? You must talk now.”

Cargill lifted his head. “You will never break me.” “Oh, you think not? Wait until you feel this.”

Blue-face directed the two remaining warriors. They walked toward the prisoner. One placed her pole just above his tail bone. The other put hers just above the center of his pelvic bone. Then they slowly started pushing towards each other. Cargill began to writhe from this punishment. The front pole ground into the lowest part of the man’s abdomen, sending shockwaves throughout his groin. He tried to raise his legs to alleviate this pressure, but Blue-face put her foot on the log to keep the man stretched. Now the savages ground their poles into him with all their might and Trout resumed the interrogation.

“Talk doctor. Give me my diamonds.”

Cargill threw back his head in anguish. “I will never tell you.”

“Your answers have already given you up, Cargill. What you say tells me you know where they are. It is all over. Tell me.”

“Never. You will never have them.”

Trout began slapping his victim on the face. “They are mine. Talk, damn you! I’ve waited 16 years. You will tell me or you will die here. Which do you prefer?”

“Then we will both die here. I will never give up.”

“You will, damn you!” Trout unleashed another furious assault on the man’s chest, pounding relentlessly at the ribs, pectorals and sternum.

“The diamonds are mine. Where are they? Where did you hide them?”

Cargill clenched his teeth and looked to the heavens. This simultaneous attack on his chest, coccyx and belly, coupled with the horrific crucifixion stretching, were pushing him to the brink. With a manly groan, his body collapsed and he lost consciousness.

Trout ordered all torture to stop and the poles were removed. He was fearful he had pushed the prisoner over the edge before getting his answer. He frantically ordered that water be brought to him. Soon a bowl was placed in Trout’s hands as he stood on his stool. Wetting his hand, he desperately tried to revive his prisoner, dabbing the liquid on Cargill’s forehead and cheeks, lightly tapping them and hoping for a response. He could see the man’s labored breathing and he ordered the warriors to remove the lower log stretching him.

As the straps were cut from his ankles, Cargill groggily lifted his head. He sighed with relief as his stretching was lessened. Trout offered him the bowl of water and the tortured man eagerly drank. His body was drenched in sweat from the punishment and heated air of dusk, the sun just now falling below the trees surrounding the village.

Now revived, Cargill flexed his chest and arms to lift his torso higher, allowing him to breathe in precious oxygen. The she-warriors were in silent awe. This powerful man somehow was withstanding their tortures. Despite all they had inflicted upon him, he still found the strength to display his masculine power before them.

Trout was relieved at his prisoner’s recovery, but not impressed. “Why don’t you talk, Dr. Cargill? Nobody wants to see you suffer like this.”

“You are worse than these savages, Trout. At least you know what you are doing is wrong. I pity them, but I despise you.”

“Soon I will turn you over to these savages. We will see how much you pity them after they have finished. Unlike me, they can be ruthless. But first, I want to see if you are the man you seem to think you are. I suspect that soon you will be begging me to help you, to make them stop tormenting you. Then you will tell me everything.”

________________________________________

Part Four - The Milking Tree

Roger Trout stepped down from his stool and relayed his orders to Blue-face. Several females sprang into action, while the rest sat on the ground. Soon all began returning from their duties. Blue-face was carrying a bowl, four warriors were carrying two buckets apiece, and several others returned with jungle undergrowth, which they threw into the pit, reigniting the hot coals to flame. Blue-face drifted towards the pit, which now illuminated the center of the village clearing around the tree, while the four females placed their buckets at Cargill’s feet.

Trout spoke. "Dr. Cargill, aren’t you curious how I came to be here?"

"I suppose you’ll tell me whether I want to hear it or not."

Trout smiled. "I’m glad you asked. My expedition never made it out of this jungle. The Natashi took us all prisoner and brought us here to be executed like you saw today."

As the man was speaking, he motioned to the warriors behind him. "I knew it was the Natashi, as soon as I heard the chilling calls in the jungle. I had read about them in old journals from early Dutch explorers."

Cargill was distracted by the activities of the women. Two of them stood at his feet and were rubbing some sort of white colored liquid on his legs, feet and ankles. "What the hell are they doing?"

"Oh, never mind that. I’m sure you have read about this tribe, their fierce nature, their savage treatment of men. Well, I immediately knew there was only one way for me to survive. That was to sacrifice my men to appease these savage women."

Two more females had now mounted two-foot stools and were applying the thick, milky substance to Cargill’s chest, belly, arms and backside. The manner of the application became an erotic body rub, causing Cargill to sense feelings of arousal, but he diverted his attention to hold back these reactions. "What is this crap they’re smearing on me?"

"I’ll tell you in time, now pay attention. I gave up all 30 of my men and then, once about every 10 days I would watch one of them be ritualistically tortured and executed, just as you saw today. Their leader forced me to extract the men’s sperm and vomit on their tree. Again, this kept me alive. I became quite proficient at sucking dicks, only so I could get it over with as quickly as possible."

Cargill was now fascinated by the story, but still worried about the females’ activity. "Please tell me what they’re doing."

"Damn it, forget about that for now. This is important." Trout was determined to somehow justify his actions of the last 16 years.

"Not only did I give them my men, I promised them many more. I told them of the trade routes 300 miles north of here. Once every six months, 12 Natashi and I would journey there. At night we would sneak into camps, taking two or three male captives and bringing them back here for slaughter. We could have taken as many as we wanted, but I figured this number would be the most we should take without attracting too much attention. So that is how I survived all these years. I knew there was no escape. I had to stay until either they killed me or someone like you came along looking for my treasure. You answered my every prayer."

Trout seemed relieved that he had finally been able to tell his story, hoping the prisoner would somehow understand and perhaps forgive.

Now Cargill’s body was encased with the white goo. All that was left to cover were his face and genitals. The substance slowly started to sting and burn his skin, which was already sensitive from the relentless beatings. "What is this gunk? It burns. Tell me what the hell it is."

"Dr. Cargill, you are suspended under the Natashi Milking Tree. This is their god. One time per year a man is chosen to be subjected to a test of endurance under their tree. You, my unfortunate friend, have been chosen. I can probably stop this from happening, but you must talk to me. You know the question."

"You are sick. What happened to you? You were once respected the world over. Now you’re just a sadistic maniac."

"It is called survival. I suggest you start learning to adapt. Do you know what these women really want? Penises. They worship the male penis. The man himself is useless to them, but their manly organs are sacred."

As the women applied the substance to Cargill’s face, he gazed down to see that Blue-face had returned from the pit. Standing before the crucified man, she reached into the bowl to present a human penis, which she had cooked in the hot coals. Now she held the organ high into the air and looked up to the branches of The Milking Tree. Reciting some sort of chant, perhaps a prayer, she then stuffed the cooked phallus into her mouth and swallowed it whole.

Cargill recoiled in horror at this macabre spectacle. The other she-warriors began to chant, as Blue-face reached into the bowl again, producing a second penis. Cargill turned away as the savage again forced the organ down her throat.

Suddenly, Cargill realized that the effects of the paste were changing. As the goo began to dry and thicken, the burning sensations were replaced by feelings of manliness. The chemicals, or drugs or whatever was in the goop, caused testosterone to be released inside the man’s body. His cock was now reacting to this and began to harden.

Meanwhile, Blue-face was now presenting the third penis to the night sky. Cargill let out a slight whimper. What he had seen earlier was true -- his poor men’s masculinity had been separated from them before their battered carcasses were thrown into the fire. And all because of a fucking tree.

The outrage he felt was indescribable, as he watched the savage swallow for the third time. His outrage was soon overtaken by the incredible sensations reverberating throughout his body. His dick was now fully erect. Blue-face reached into the nearby bucket, then plastered his genitals with the tantalizing paste. The ruthless savage first encased Cargill’s dangling testicles, then spread the erotic substance over the entire length of his engorged penis, lingering there with her taunting fingers, slowly stroking back and forth on the shaft of the organ.

Then she smiled at him. It was not a smile of kindness, but of lust. Lust to inflict more punishment upon him - to prove beyond doubt that hers was the superior gender. Cargill was overwhelmed by the sense of helplessness - of humiliation and vulnerability. He arched his back and thrust his pelvis forward, hoping to startle her into releasing his cock, but to no avail. She held his hardened penis in her hand and squeezed tightly, continuing to mock him with her cruel grin. He gazed at his audience, the entire tribe of female warriors now scrutinizing his masculine form, bound, suspended and glistening before them. He begged Trout, "Make them stop. What are they doing to me?"

Trout nodded to Blue-face and she released her taunting grip on Cargill’s manhood.

"Dr. Cargill, I have watched this ritual for 16 years. No man has ever survived the test of endurance and when they fail; their treatment becomes brutal beyond words. I cannot begin to count the many different ways I’ve seen men tortured until they were dead. It is always a slow, agonizing spectacle, which sometimes goes on for days. Don’t let it happen to you. Talk to me now. Quickly." "We will both die here; after they kill me, who will be left for them to butcher but you. They certainly won’t kill their own. Your time will come."

"I am aware of this, my friend. It saddens me that you have chosen this path. I wish you well."

Trout left the circle and turned the prisoner over to the women. They had now surrounded the suspended man. 12 females stood on their two-foot stools encircling him. Cargill’s manly body was writhing from the erotic sensations pulsating throughout. He again was struggling to breathe and flexed his muscles, pulling himself up for several quick gasps of air, a momentary relief from the stretching. The warriors were enraptured by this display of masculinity, wide-eyed as he slowly lowered his body and resumed the crucified posture.

Now the paste upon his genitals began to thicken and he was taken to new heights of ecstasy - more than he had ever experienced. Testosterone was raging uncontrollably throughout his manly body and he was feeling sensations never before known to him. This ecstasy was higher than foreplay, higher than post-orgasm and yes, even higher than orgasm itself.

His erect cock felt ten times its normal size, while his body writhed and contorted from the incredible pulsations. The females were being driven to madness from the sight of this amazingly defiant, mysterious white man. His powerful penis throbbed before them. His glorious muscles flexed, highlighted by the milky paste, fire from the nearby pit increasing his glow. Every line of his incredible strength and manliness was clearly defined and vulnerable before them.

Cargill again pulled himself up, until his shoulders touched the log. This time it was not to breathe, but to invite the females to come to him, to ravish his manly, glistening body. His protruding penis contracted and bobbed upwards with each heartbeat, the gooey white substance mixing with pre-cum and dribbling to the ground.

The she-warriors on either side of Cargill had the most tantalizing view, as he strained his muscles to maintain this pull-up position. They could follow the manly line of his body starting from his rugged jaw jutting forward, and then curving back to the adam's apple. Flexed arms deepened his pits, thick hair matted by the erotic paste. Suddenly, the line protrudes forward, defining the powerful chest flexing and straining against gravity. Then a dramatic curve inward under his rib cage flows down the length of his flattened, rock-hard belly, only to be gloriously interrupted by the throbbing, manly tool, as it bobs and points directly forward, begging to be worshipped.

Cargill moaned and presented himself to them. Neither his thoughts nor body were under his control. Savage lust had consumed him.

This display of masculinity was almost more than the females could bear. Now they were moaning in anticipation, marking time on their stools as though they had to pee. They frantically massaged their vaginas, causing salivating juices to run down their ebony legs. Blue-face circled behind the man and launched him towards the perimeter. The chosen female reached out for the crucified man. As his swinging body reached her, she clamped her hands onto his buttocks and inserted the hardened penis into her. She pressed his pelvis against hers and forced his manly organ deep into her vaginal walls, burying him into the heavenly surroundings of her pulsating clitoris. High-pitched shrieks were matched by manly groans, as she began to thrust her pelvis forward and back, riding this magnificent mount.

Cargill’s belly and cock were pulled forward, while the crucifixion log pulled his arms back. He flexed the arms and expanded his chest, further displaying his manliness. His legs were hanging limp towards the ground, toes frantically curled forward, then arched back. This pose created a scene of heroic sacrifice, offering his manly tool for her to do with as she pleased. And what she pleased to do was claw her fingertips into his buttocks, thrusting his powerful unit deep inside her.

The upward angle of his approach maximized the stimulation of the woman’s clitoris, his swollen mushroom head perfectly shaped to make contact. Convulsions reverberated throughout her body as she frantically pounded his enlarged organ into her. Cargill gazed down his expanded chest to watch her work him over. He could feel her rounded breasts bouncing against him, the erect nipples driving under his rib cage again and again. His own nipples became stimulated, the tips erect and protruding out of the erotic paste. Their orgasms were conjoined in time. Sounds never before heard reverberated throughout the village. Wild beasts in the surrounding jungle awoke and alerted themselves to danger. Birds took to the wing from what they did not know.

The she-warrior kept him inside her until she could take no more. She released him to return to the center of the circle, while she collapsed to the ground, arching her back and thrusting her nipples toward the branches of The Milking Tree. The incredible power of this man continued to pulsate inside her long after his penis had been released.

Soon he was again in his stationary position, hanging crucified in the center of the circle, his cock still throbbing and ready for more. Blue-face sent him on his way. Again hands were clasped onto his buttocks and his incredible unit thrust inside a female warrior. Both man and woman cried out from the incredible sensations, as the spectacle was repeated. Soon he shot his mighty load into her, knocking her off her pedestal to writhe under the tree.

And so it continued. One after another, the fierce female warriors were knocked like bowling pins to the ground, convulsing and thrusting their nipples to the sky. The power of this mysterious man was consuming the entire tribe - and one outsider.

Midway through the ordeal, Cargill’s mind and body were tiring. He knew the paste would keep him erect, as long as he could focus on the task at hand, but this was becoming more difficult for him. Thus, the test of which Trout had spoken.

Using the atmosphere of the jungle around him, he began to display an animalistic aggression. He tried to verbally motivate himself with expressions of his masculine superiority, taunting the women, knowing they couldn’t understand his language anyhow. Each time a warrior took him into her, Cargill would flex his arms and bulge his chest to capacity, thrust out his lower jaw and strike a pose of rugged masculinity. He would glare at the female, coaxing her to take him. "You will never defeat me. I am too much man for all of you. I will service you and the rest of your tribe. Every woman will be satisfied and I will pass your goddamn test."

Interspersed with this language were manly exclamations of "ooh’s" and "ugh’s." The women didn’t know what Cargill was saying during this self-motivation, but they could feel it. His aggressive, manly voice was all they needed to hear. The combination of his powerful dick slamming against their clitoris, coupled with his animalistic verbal, facial and body expressions brought each of them to orgasm within seconds. And Cargill was there for them each time, maintaining his massive erection and pumping one manly load after another into the savage females.

Trout heard every word. He watched with amazement, as Cargill rendered one she-warrior after another into convulsing rags, writhing under the sacred Milking Tree. Trout himself was consumed by this man, causing his own pecker to bulge out beneath the loin wrapping. He tired of trying to keep it concealed and removed the wrapping, along with his ridiculous vegetation crown, joining the rest of the tribe in naked glory.

Finally, there was one. Cargill’s body hung limp in the center of the circle. The only movement came from his rapid breath and still bobbing, erect penis. Lying on the ground, 11 females dreamily gazed at the night sky through the branches of The Milking Tree, still mesmerized by their prisoner’s incredible masculinity. Vaginas continued to pulsate, vibrating from the aftershocks left behind by this man’s amazing organ.

The lone female awaited the heavenly penis. Self-induced orgasm could have come to her long ago, as she patiently watched the 11 before her serviced by this glorious he-man, but she had restrained herself. Now her reward was at hand. He had already surpassed the performance of any others in the known history of the tribe. She was the chosen one, the Natashi female warrior to take this man into glorious triumph over the test of The Milking Tree.

Blue-face sent him to her and their contact was instant ecstasy. Again the man’s penis was engulfed by pulsating vaginal walls. She squeezed him with all her might, crushing his manly tool inside her. She waited patiently for him. Longing for this since his ordeal began, she now would take his magnificent penis to new heights, coaxing him to cum. She thrust herself back and forth, squeezing her powerful vaginal muscles around him. His dick felt as though she was standing on him barefoot, and he relished it. She prodded him, she worshipped him and manhandled him, until he was ready. His mighty chest bulged as he prepared to shoot the final manly load.

Again, savage animal sounds permeated the village, as simultaneous orgasms brought two lovers to the pinnacles of ecstasy. She crushed his cock deep inside her, savagely coaxing out every ounce of manly cum he had left to offer. He growled in ecstatic pleasure and pain, as she tortured the penis long after his orgasm was finished and cum extracted. Then, mercifully, she released him back to the tribal leader and collapsed to the ground, joining the eleven before her who had partaken of this incredible man.

Now the entire tribe moved towards Cargill, as he hung limp under the magical tree. They surrounded and knelt before him in reverence and awe. Those who had not felt his power reached out to touch him, to be a part of this historic moment, but Blue-face ordered them out of the circle. She was not yet convinced. Having not yet experienced his power, she now isolated and prepared him for his final ordeal. He still had not offered his sacrifice to the Natashi god, The Milking Tree.

End of Parts Three & Four