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Collected by Djian
PARKER23.TXT -- 1/3
LADY JANE GREYSTONE'S
REMARKABLE EXPERIMENT 1/3
By Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi
WARNING: This story involves a fair bit of non-consensual sex, humiliation,
domination and - last but not least - bestiality. If this sort of fantasy offends you, then
read no further. That, in case you didn't notice, was a warning.
Copyright 1994 by Parker (me). Feel free to distribute the story
(unaltered, of course), but be discrete.
=================================================================
The horseshoe clack and rattle of the fading carriage had only just died away down the
cracked cobble of Bond Street when the carriage's recently disgorged passenger reached the
large oak door and rapped three times with the brass handle of his cane. The door opened a few
moments later, allowing a weak candle glow of light to seep out and dissipate in the cool night
fog.
A voice: "Sir!"
The man grimaced. "I left my keys at Windsor, I was in such a hurry." The door opened
wider and the man walked into the entrance hall. It was a small room, with a passageway
leading straight ahead and a stairway off to the side. "I trust everything is in readiness," he
said, standing impatiently while the other man, a servant, removed his hat and jacket.
"Yes sir."
"And my friends? They've enjoyed dinner?"
An outburst of laughter sounded from above. The servant allowed himself a quiet smile. "I
believe so, sir."
The man nodded. "Good. I was concerned that my lateness might have upset matters."
The servant stared blankly.
"Yes, well... you remember the arrangements?"
"Sir." The servant managed to look offended without changing his expression.
The man nodded, a tiny smile reaching his lips. "Quite."
Another burst of laughter came from above.
"I suppose I should join them."
He turned away from the servant and climbed the stairs.
*****
"...and then I said to him: 'sir, my family has enjoyed noble status for centuries. If you wish
to claim monkeys in your lineage, that is your affair. I'll thank you, sir, not to claim such for
mine.'" The speaker, Lord Richard Fleming, paused briefly to drain his wine glass while
basking in the inevitable laughter. When the merriment died down, he resumed speaking. "I
thought he'd have a stroke, he looked so angry." Lord Fleming dropped his voice and put on an
exaggerated cockney accent. "'But sir' he said, 'if you had taken the time to read my book...' but
I just looked at him and said 'My good man - and I use that term under advisement - *I* do not
read books written by monkeys." The table erupted into a fresh round of laughter.
Sir Gerald Reid entered the dining room - his dining room - grinning at the joke. "I say,
Dickon, you might have waited with the stories. It's bad enough I missed the meal..."
The fat Lord waved the newcomer silent, still wrapped in the throes of his anecdote. "Then
he said: 'my lord, I do not claim any such thing. Monkeys do not write books.' Well, I looked
him up and down and answered: '*I* know one who does.'"
Gerald Reid grinned with appreciation as another round of laughter swept the table. Dickon
had been dining out on that story for months now, but it never failed to incite amusement.
Particularly from old Warrington. The tall, wiry clergyman was rocking back and forth in his
seat, roaring with high-pitched laughter as tears ran down his angular face. Arch-Bishop
Warrington was one of Mr. Darwin's bitterest critics in England, having declared the
scientist's work "blasphemous" and calling for a ban on his book 'The Origin of Species' ever
since it had been published two years ago.
Likewise, Sir William Buckman, the head of the geology department at Oxford, was enjoying
the tale of Darwin's discomfort. He too was an outspoken critic of the naturalist's work. The
heavily bearded academic let out a loud belch of laughter as he finished his glass and reached
for the whisky bottle. "Well said, Dickon, well said. That man needs to be put in his place; he
should have stuck with barnacles and coral reefs and the like." He paused for a moment as he
poured himself a generous glass. "He's made himself a laughingstock with his ridiculous
monkey theory."
"Actually," Reid said, taking a seat at the table and reaching for a glass, "it's a bit of a rum
thing, finding you gentleman putting your mind to this topic, as my story tonight deals with
that very subject." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a battered, leatherbound
notebook. "And about Lady Jane Greystone."
Buckman let out a braying laugh, dribbling whisky into his beard. "Her? A humorous story,
then?"
"I thought she'd disappeared some time ago," Fleming ventured, scratching his neatly
trimmed grey beard. "In Africa, or some such place."
"Indeed she did," Reid answered. "She was heading an expedition. With Brooke."
"Rupert Brooke?" Buckman seemed surprised. "But I heard he was in India now. After
suffering a protracted fever."
"Oh, he was rather ill," Reid answered. "but he's quite recuperated now. I saw him before
he left." He patted the notebook. "He gave me this, and told me what happened."
"In Africa?"
Reid nodded. "And I've since... shall I say, confirmed his information by my own sources. I
can assure you, then, that the story I'm about to tell you is completely true. Every word."
The table fell silent for a moment.
"Well then," Warrington said, "perhaps you'd best get on with it then."
"Yes," Buckman agreed, finishing his whisky. "My interest is piqued."
"As is mine," agreed Fleming. "Do tell us."
"Well," Reid said looking pleased, "I shall."
*****
Annoyed, Lady Jane Greystone tossed her head and tried to push her thick, auburn hair back
over her shoulder, where it wouldn't interfere with her writing. She normally tied back her
long hair or wore it in a tight bun, but she'd already let it loose in preparation for bed. Now it
fell in unhampered, distracting waves as she leaned over the sputtering oil lamp that kept the
darkness from her small tent and tried to write.
It was hopeless. She'd been staring at her notebook for a good fifteen minutes now, but
nothing came. Not enough sleep; too much excitement. The dizzying discoveries of last few
weeks were finally catching up with her. If she was right, and she was quite certain that she
was, she had discovered a new species of ape. Or something. The creatures she had encountered
were far more advanced than any member of the great ape family previously known. Although
generally ape-like in appearance, the new species exhibited traces of intelligence previously
thought to be the exclusive domain of humanity. Some of them were even constructing and
using tools!
Unable to work or sleep, she turned back the pages and skimmed through some earlier
entries:
"...the proto-humans [as she had termed them] exhibit
the physical characteristics of both man and ape. They
are exceedingly hairy, and have the same long, well
muscled arms of the great ape family, but the facial
features and cranial development suggest a more
developed mental capacity.... and other physical
characteristics suggest a cross between the two
species; the genitals, while not as large as that of a
homo sapian [she blushed, reading this], are much
larger than that of the great ape..."
Inspired, she picked up her pen, flipped to the last passage and began to write:
"I feel that I have found one of Mr. Darwin's
'numberless transitional links' regarding which he
predicted criticism. The evidence clearly shows that
the proto-humans are a 'closely allied and
representative species' of mankind."
*****
"Oh, nonsense." Buckman shook his head and took another deep pull on his drink. "What
absolute twaddle. Shows why women shouldn't get involved with science."
"That may be," Fleming told him, "but we still want to hear the story." He looked at Reid and
grinned. "Nonsense as it may be." Warrington nodded in agreement. "Do continue." Reid looked
down at the notebook and resumed reading...
*****
"As an experiment, we've been living among them for
almost two weeks now. We've begun to gain a rudimentary
understanding of their language, and they're beginning
to accept our presence. I believe that we're well on
our way to establishing their essential kinship with
humanity."
Overwhelmed by her own words, she put down the pen, shivering as she considered the
events of the last few weeks. Quite a discovery for anyone, but for Jane Greystone, it meant
vindication. Vindication for choosing a life of science when that field was almost exclusively
the domain of men. Vindication for suffering the ridicule and taunts from those bastards at the
university. Vindication for the long, hard hours of study while her childhood friends attended
parties and plays and, eventually, married.
Marriage.
Sighing, she gazed blankly at the canvass side of her small, poorly lit tent. Rupert. He was
the only one who'd believed in her, who'd stood by her. She almost imagined she could hear his
quiet breathing from where he slept, in the tent next to hers. But of course that was
impossible.
Rupert. And those days on board...
No. She wouldn't think of that now. She had a job to do here. Even if Rupert didn't understand
that at present. Shaking her head, she picked up the pen and stared down at her notebook.
There'd be plenty of time for that later. Once she'd completed her experiments here in Africa.
Once she'd proven that this new species of great ape was, indeed, Mr. Darwin's infamous
missing "transitional link". Once she'd shown the world that she was as good a scientist as any
man. Then she would be able to...
CRACK!
The chattering stillness of the African night was shattered by a gunshot. Then another... and
another... Shocked from her dreams of a triumphant return to London, the englishwoman
dropped her notebook and peered outside. The campfire was still burning, still fighting off the
shadows, but shed no light on the source of the gunfire. Another shot rang out from the
darkness surrounding the camp. The shot was followed by shouting voices and screams of panic
and anger.
Panting with fear, Jane grabbed her father's old Springfield from where it had been lying
just inside the entrance to her tent. She pushed aside the flap and moved outside - pausing for
a moment as she realized that her tall, lithe body was clad in nothing more than an oversized
shirt and panties - and began to run towards Rupert's tent. Another series of shots rang out
from the darkness surrounding the camp. Before she had covered half the distance between the
two tents, a man, nothing more than a dark shape in the flickerlight, slammed into her,
knocking her to the ground. By the time she cleared her hair away from her face, the man was
gone. She didn't know whether it was one of her own men or an attacker.
Whoever they were.
She had just clambered to her knees when another man, silhouetted by the fire, moved into
her field of view. He was shouting orders in a native dialect. A white man! Carrying a
revolver. Jane swallowed; the only whites in her party were herself and Rupert, and that
wasn't Rupert.
Fighting to steady her breathing, she raised the heavy rifle to her shoulder and took aim.
The man walked slowly closer, not seeing her until her was only half a dozen yards away. She
couldn't miss. Staring down the barrel of the rifle, Jane saw the man's eyes go wide in fear as
she held her breath and pulled the trigger...
*****
Jacques Manon staggered backward and fell on his ass. He looked down, expecting to see his
guts spilling out onto his lap, but there was nothing.
No wound.
He looked up. The gun must have misfired. The woman was pulling at the lever, trying to
dislodge the malfunctioning round and get a new one in the chamber.
"Merde."
The frenchman pushed himself up off the ground and lunged at her. There was a loud click as
the new cartridge slipped into the chamber. The woman swung the rifle around, but it was too
late. Jacques was already too close. He grabbed the barrel with one hand and jerked it away
while striking the woman across the face with his other hand. She let out a cry and fell
backwards onto the ground.
Panting, Manon got to his feet and tossed the heavy rifle away into the bush. He walked over
and picked up his revolver from where it had fallen and went back to the woman. She glared up
at him from the ground, but didn't move.
Jacques smirked and then looked around the camp. It was pretty much over. His men, all
experienced hunters through many years spent poaching, had made short work of the porters
and servants that had made up the white woman's camp. That only left...
"Rupert!"
The englishwoman scrambled to her feet and began to run towards the centre of the camp,
where two of Manon's men dragged a struggling white man into the firelight. Cursing, Manon
grabbed at her, getting a fistful of cloth and jerking her back onto her bare ass. There was a
tearing sound and the poacher caught of glimpse of white breast as the woman tried to twist
free.
The white man renewed his efforts to break free when he saw the woman, but one of his
captors brought a pistol butt down on the back of his head and he collapsed to the ground.
"Rupert!" The woman started to cry.
Manon looked at the men.
"<Is it done?>" he asked, mangling the native dialect.
The black man laughed. "<Yes,>" he answered. "<The dogs have either fled or died. They will
be running all the way back to the coast.>"
Manon nodded. "<Search the camp,>" he ordered. "<Take everything of value; we must be
gone by first light.>"
He turned his attention back to the englishwoman, who crouched at his feet, glaring up at
him through a curtain of hair. He let out a low, appreciative whistle. Three days of watching
from the jungle had not conveyed to him just how beautiful she was. She was tall for a woman,
with long legs and a lithe, athletic figure. Her hair, a rich auburn, flowed thick and rich down
to the small of her back. That much he had seen from the distance. But up close, even in the
flickering light of the half-dead fire, she was breathtaking. The woman had fair, english skin
and a small, upturned nose over a set of full, rich lips. Her eyes, large and grey, stared up at
him from under a thick curtain of hair as she panted - in anger? fear? - at his feet.
The poacher had originally planned to ransom her, unharmed and untouched, but those plans
fell by the wayside as he gazed down at her. He had been in the jungle for months; it had been a
long time since he had seen a woman and even longer since he had seen a white woman.
And he had never, never seen a woman like this.
He had to have her.
To take her.
Now.
Growling, the frenchman grabbed the woman by her thick hair, pulled her to her feet and
shoved her, stumbling, into the weak firelight where she collapsed to the ground. He walked
quickly after her, his hands unfastening his belt as he walked.
"No... oh no..."
The woman, her grey eyes wide, tried to scuttle away on her hand and knees, but Jacques
was too quick. He threw himself on top of her, pinning her lithe body to the ground. Sobbing,
she tried to squirm free, but couldn't. The frenchman's rough hands slipped under the waist of
her panties and tore them away.
"You bastard!" She began to hit him on the side of the head, but he just ignored her.
His cock felt like it was going to explode.
It had been too long.
Forcing her legs apart with his body weight, he manoeuvred himself so that the engorged
head of his cock was positioned right above her unwilling pussy. With a sharp bark of lust, he
rammed himself forward, burying his cock inside of her with one violent shove. The woman's
cries turned to screeches of agony as his massive cock filled her dry, tight pussy.
"Noooo..." She bucked and twisted beneath him, struggling madly to pull her body away the
impaling cock, but her movements only served to increase his excitement. A thin line of
spittle trickled out of his open mouth and onto her face as he grabbed her ass and began to
pump his cock brutally in and out of her.
"Ahhh..."
It didn't take long. Within moments, he stiffened and shot his load into her belly. The woman
stopped struggling and started to cry as she felt his hot semen fill her pussy and dribble out
onto her ass. She lay limp as he pumped twice more and then pulled out, leaving a thick glob of
cum glistening in her curly pubic hair.
"Nice," he grunted. "You make a good whore." Grinning, he leaned down and brought his lips
against hers for a kiss. She gasped and tried to turn away, but he forced his tongue into her
mouth. Their eyes were inches apart as he slowly explored the inside of her mouth and then
pulled away as she gagged beneath him. He drew in a breath to say something, but was
interrupted by a glob of spittle right in his eye.
She'd spat at him.
"Bitch! English bitch." He rolled off of her and got to his feet, wiping the spittle from his
face. "I'm not good enough, eh?" He gestured at the black men that stood, watching, from the
shadowed edge of the firelight. "Maybe black flesh is more to your liking."
The woman's eyes widened and she began to scream anew...
*****
"I say!"
"You mean..." Warrington looked confused. "He... raped her?"
"Yes," Reid confirmed. "You take my meaning exactly."
Silence...
Buckman finished his drink and began to pour another.
"Well?"
"Do go on," Fleming urged, his face flushed.
*****
Lady Jane Greystone twisted and writhed in her bonds, her lithe, half-clad body glowing a
deep red where the belt had struck it and glistening with pain sweat in the weak firelight. Her
naked arms were tied at the wrist and spread apart in a Y shape above her head by two ropes
which led upwards to tree branches. Clad only in the torn shirt that fell to just below her
waist, the englishwoman cried out in mindless pain as Manon's belt struck her ass and lower
back again and again. Her pussy and inner thighs, clearly visible every time her torn shirt
fluttered open, glistened with rivers of half-dried cum.
She'd already been fucked by half a dozen of the frenchman's men before Manon had grown
bored with the sport. She had cried and struggled madly through the first few rapes, but, after
realizing there was nothing she could do to stop it, she'd just laid there, limp and unresisting
as the black men had fucked her body.
Her mind drifted, somewhere far away.
Somewhere pleasant.
Manon's men hadn't seemed to mind, pumping away at her and grunting like animals, but
Manon quickly flew into a rage. Cursing, he'd jerked the last man off of her just as he came.
She'd flinched a bit as his hot cum splattered her stomach and face, but even that hadn't
disturbed her sense of detachment. The frenchman had shouted something at her, something
that sounded like "...not good enough... english whore should fuck like an english whore...", but
again it seemed far away. Like it was happening to someone else. It wasn't until they tied her
wrists and strung her up under the tree that brutal reality shattered her sense of detachment.
The first blow of the belt dispelled all sense of peace.
By the fifth blow, she'd become a tortured, screaming animal...
END PART ONE
=================================================================
As usual, I am interested in any comments you may have regarding this story,
or any of my other stories.
PARKER23.TXT -- 2/3
LADY JANE GREYSTONE'S REMARKABLE EXPERIMENT
2/3
By Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi
WARNING: This story involves a fair bit of non-consensual sex, humiliation,
domination and - last but not least - bestiality. If this sort of fantasy offends you, then
read no further. That, in case you didn't notice, was a warning.
Copyright 1994 by Parker (me). Feel free to distribute the story
(unaltered, of course), but be discrete.
=================================================================
Manon paused for a moment, gasping for breath. The woman hung limp and sopping, but he
could see that she had not fainted. Her grey eyes glistened helplessly at him from beneath
auburn hair. Grinning, the frenchman walked forward, grabbed a fistful of that hair and
jerked her face upwards.
"Are you ready to fuck, whore?"
*****
Jane worked her tongue, trying vainly to produce enough moisture to spit in the bastard's
face. Her mouth and throat were too dry; all screamed out. So she contented herself by
whispering three words: "Go... to... hell..."
The poacher frowned and stepped back, the belt dangling loose in his hand. Jane drew a
shuddering breath and closed her eyes, waiting for the impact. Her only consolation was that
Rupert wasn't awake to see this... to see her tortured - degraded - like this. She opened her
eyes and glanced over at where he lay, securely tied and still unconscious, beside the fire.
Rupert!
*****
Manon lowered the belt and looked over at the bound man. He had followed her gaze and seen
the look in her eyes. A smirk crept over his face. He knew how to convince the whore...
*****
Jane felt a moment of relief when the poacher dropped the belt, but that feeling was quickly
replaced by one of panic as he walked over to the unconscious Rupert, sliding a wicked-looking
hunting knife free of its sheath. She felt her stomach turn as he bent over, jerked the
unconscious englishman's head up by his hair and placed the blade of the knife against the
exposed throat. The honed metal glinted in the firelight.
She couldn't help herself. "No..." Her voice was hoarse, rasping... "Please..."
The poacher looked at her, his eyes a pair of dead, black holes. "Your choice," he shrugged.
"Fuck like the whore you are, or he dies."
The englishwoman felt her resistance seep away at those horrible words. She could bear the
physical abuse - she had no choice - but she couldn't allow anything to happen to Rupert.
Dear Rupert!
He had proposed to her on the voyage from England. She had told him "no", wanting to prove
herself as a scientist before becoming a wife, but she had always intended it to be a temporary
refusal. Rupert had been hurt at the time, but she knew it was for the best; she would make it
up to him later. But now... now it looked like Rupert might die, without ever knowing how she
felt about him.
She couldn't allow that.
She wouldn't.
"I'll do what you want."
She went limp, hanging loosely by her wrists.
She was broken.
Grinning, the frenchman let go of Rupert and got to his feet. He handed his knife to one of his
men and walked over to the hanging woman. Standing directly in front of her, he slipped down
his pants. To her dismay, she saw that his cock was hard again, despite his having come inside
her less than an hour ago.
Bracing herself, she waited to be raped.
The man just stood there, grinning at her. His teeth were bad. "You don't understand," he
told her. "You're the whore here; you're going to fuck me, not the other way around." He looked
over to where his man stood over Rupert with the knife. "If I haven't come in ten minutes - if
you haven't made me come - your man is dead." He punctuated his remark with a light slap at
her barely covered breasts. "Understand?"
Her eyes filled with tears, Jane nodded.
"Then get to it. Whore."
Terrified by the threat, Jane began to move. Her arms were still tied high above her head,
so she swung her long, naked legs around behind the man's ass and pulled him in towards her.
Grinning, the frenchman allowed himself to be pulled. Groaning with pain and humiliation, she
spread her thighs and thrust her crotch at his stiff cock, trying desperately to capture it in
her open pussy. It kept sliding over her crotch. Her efforts became increasingly desperate as
the seconds ticked by and she was unable to get him inside her.
Finally, she looked up at him, grey eyes wide and tear-filled: "Please," she whispered. "Oh,
please..."
"Whore."
Smirking, he reached down and positioned his cockhead against the entrance to her abused
pussy. She almost groaned with relief as she pulled with her legs and felt his cock slide deep
within her. It hurt a bit, but the friction was lessened by the large deposits of cum left behind
by the earlier rapes. She closed her eyes for a moment, blocking out the view; the important
thing was to protect Rupert!
"Let's go, whore." The man slapped her thigh, naked where her shirt had ridden up her
back.
Swallowing her revulsion, Lady Jane Greystone started to fuck the frenchman. Using her
lithe, muscular legs, she humped herself up and down on his rigid cock, careful not to let it
pop loose from her pussy. Her arms began to ache, but she kept pumping. After a few minutes,
the frenchman began to breath heavier. He brought up his hands and began to play with her
small, firm breasts through the torn material of her shirt.
"Faster," he ordered.
Conscious of the passing seconds, Jane obeyed. She didn't know how much time she had left,
but it couldn't be long. Sweat dripped from her beautiful, aristocratic face as she increased
the pace of her movement, sliding her now sopping pussy up and down on the frenchman's pole.
"Uh... uh..."
His cock made loud squelching sounds as it pumped in and out of her pussy. The poacher's
men heard the sound and laughed. One of them began to imitate the sound, and a fresh wave of
laughter overtook the group. The frenchman grinned. "Time's running out," he told her,
nodding towards Rupert. "Tell me how much you like it; how you liked to be fucked. I like a
foul mouthed whore."
Jane winced at his words, but the man's angry glance in Rupert's direction convinced her to
do what she was told. "I... uh... I like it... I like to be... uh... to be f-fucked... uh... uh..." Her
moans of mock passion were interspersed with quiet grunts her drove his cock into her. "I...
uh... I... love..."
The frenchman grimaced. "You'll have to do better than that, you english whore." He
gestured to someone standing behind the bound englishwoman. "If your boyfriend's life isn't
enough..."
CRACK!
"Ahhh!!!"
The sudden sting of the belt on her naked, sweaty ass sent the bound woman twisting and
squirming in paroxysms of pain. "No... please, I like it... I like fucking... uh... fucking you...
please... Ahh..." The belt landed again and again, sending waves of pain through the woman's
desperate, abused body. "Oh yes... oh yesss... fuck me... ahhh..." Desperately, she redoubled her
efforts to make the poacher come, bouncing and twisting on his cock like a madwoman. As she
did so, a feeling began to grow in her pussy.
"That's a proper slut," he panted, his prisoner's efforts at last having an affect. "A real
whore."
"Yes... oh, yes... I'm a proper slut... a whore..."
CRACK!
Her voice rose to a scream: "Ahhh... oh please... oh god, oh god... please... uhh... please
come..." All modesty forgotten, the englishwoman bucked and writhed on the man's cock,
frantically bouncing it in and out of her aching pussy while screaming like a lust crazed
whore. "Please fuck me... uh... uh... oh, yes... I'm a..."
CRACK!
"...ahhh... a slut... uh... uhh... a whore..."
Against her will, she began to feel a spark of lust growing in her pussy. She fought against
it, shamed to her core, but was helpless as the frenchman's cock fanned the spark into a fire.
CRACK!
"Ahhh... oh yes... oh yes... oh god, yes..." Her passion, at first feigned, became increasingly
real. Eyes closed, she imagined herself in Rupert's arms... touching Rupert's chest... his
warm, blue eyes looking into her's... "Oh yes... uh... uh... please... please... ahh..."
"Merde!"
It was too much for the frenchman. He gripped her thighs and jerked her captive, writhing
body into his own, ramming his cock as far as possible up her sluttish, spasming pussy. With
a loud groan, he stiffened and came, shooting ropes of hot, white cum into her belly. Now
frantic with lust, Jane jerked her body back and forth in his bruising grip, desperately
fighting to create enough friction to send her over the edge. But it was no use. As soon as he
finished coming, the frenchman let go of her hips and stepped away.
Reality struck her, driving the breath from her lungs as she opened her eyes to see the
poacher spit into the fire while he did up his pants. Dazed, Jane hung by her wrists, staring at
the circle of black faces that surrounded her. What had happened to her? What was that... that
feeling? She choked back a sob as a glob of warm cum trickled out of her pussy and dribbled
down her thigh.
The frenchman grinned at her with decaying teeth. "Now, my men," he told her. "And be a
good whore."
In seconds, the bonds on her wrists were cut and she was flat on her back beside the fire
with her legs spread. One of the black men fell on top of her and, without delay, jammed his
cock into her sopping pussy. Confused, she lay there for a moment, passively letting him
pump his cock into her, but then the frenchman's voice came from the darkness a few yards
away: "That's not how a whore behaves."
She turned her head to see him crouched beside Rupert, the knife glinting in his hand.
Tears streamed down her face as she turned her attention to the man lying on top of her.
Choking back her shame and revulsion, she wrapped her long legs around behind his body and
began to fuck back at him, raising her hips off the ground to meet his frantic thrusts. The man
laughed and brought his lips down to hers.
She closed her eyes and tried to imagine Rupert.
"Whore."
Bringing her arms up around behind the man's head, she opened her mouth and tasted his
tongue...
*****
Darkness.
Pain.
Light...
More pain...
Rupert Brooke slowly worked his way towards a pain-drenched half consciousness. The
jumbled recollections of the last few moments before the pistol butt smashed the awareness
from him tumbled chaotically through his brain: lying on his cot, thinking, as always, of
Jane; the jungle going ominously silent; the shots, the screams, feeling of helpless terror as
he emerged from his tent to see his men being slaughtered like...
Then another shot, close by... and a scream.
A woman's scream.
Jane!
Turning, running, falling... and then, finally, the guttural laugh... the two black men
grabbing him... a struggle... Jane... and a split panic second peripheral glimpse of the pistol
butt flashing towards his temple...
Darkness...
Pain...
Rupert Brooke opened his eyes.
At first, everything was a muddled haze of colour and light as his eyes slowly adjusted to the
doomed, flickering radiance of the fire. A group of black men were standing, watching
something going on beside the fire. He didn't recognize them. The attackers. What were...
Stifling a groan, the bound man struggled to focus his gaze on the object of their attention.
Jane!
But what...
She was lying on the ground, well within the firelit circle of illumination. She was on her
back and seemed to be naked except for the ripped cloth of a shirt which was bunched up
around her upper body. A man was on top of her; a black man! He was propping himself up on
his elbows while moving his hips... while he was... Brooke's mind couldn't comprehend,
couldn't find the words to express what was happening in front of his eyes.
Jane?
While he watched with aching eyes, the englishwoman wrapped her sweat-glistening legs
around the black man and began to hump her crotch up against him, riding his cock like an
experienced whore. "Ohh..." She let out a quiet moan of lust as the man increased the force of
his movement. "Oh yesss... uh... lovely..." She reached around with her naked arms and pulled
the man's face down to her own. "Mmmmm..." To the englishman's stunned senses, the kiss
seemed to last forever, and the they finally broke apart, their tongues were clearly visible,
entwined in the dull glow of the fire.
Jane?
"Ohhh... ah... ah... ah..."
The bound englishman watched, nauseated with horror as the two lovers orgasmed
simultaneously. The black man just grunted and froze. The englishwoman let out a series of
sluttish whimpers as she bucked and writhed on his cock and then stiffened with a loud cry,
her back arching up off the ground. "Yesss..."
Done, the man pulled his cock out and crawled away.
Jane was given no respite. Another black man grabbed her by her thick, auburn hair,
jerked her to her knees and pulled her down on top of him. The woman looked stunned for a
moment, but then realized what was expected of her and melted into the man's arms.
Grimacing slightly, she reached down with experienced fingers, positioned the man's rigid
cock as she wanted it, and then slid down, slowly enveloping it in her pussy. "Ohhh... god, yes."
She paused for a moment when it was finally fully inside of her, savouring the feeling. Then,
with a quiet whimper, she began to move her hips, sliding her pussy up and down on the man's
cockshaft.
"Yesss... yes... fuck me...."
Brooke felt himself - his heart - go numb as he listened to her sluttish whining. Could this
be the woman he loved? The woman he'd asked to marry him? The woman who, the one time
they had made love, had insisted that the room be pitch black?
"Oh yess... uh... uh... fuck me hard..."
Just as the Brooke was certain that another word would drive him mad, a second black man
walked up in front of the moaning englishwoman and stuck his cock in her face. She smiled.
And, by the flickering light, Brooke could plainly see the crusty, dried cum on her lips and
chin. So it was no surprise when she reached up with a free hand and guided the man's cock
into her open mouth. Her whimpers became obscure moans around the black flesh of her gag,
but Brooke had no difficulty identifying them for what they were: the sounds of a bitch in heat.
A whore plying her trade. There was no fear, no innocence... only lust.
Unable to help himself, the englishman let out a cry of anger and despair and began to
struggle in his bonds. He heard laughter behind him, and a sudden burst of pain in the back of
his head sent him tumbling back into not-unwelcome darkness.
Jane...
*****
She fought back the urge to vomit as yet another load of hot, sticky cum filled her mouth,
bubbled up into her nose and over her lips and, finally, slid down her throat. She'd coughed up
a load earlier, spewing it upwards all over her face and breasts. A flurry of blows with the
belt as well as the ever-present threat to Rupert had spurred her to greater effort. Now,
more of less numb with the seemingly endless fucking and sucking, she swallowed it down like
a professional whore, all the time begging and whining for more.
She had lost count of the number of men she had satisfied with her body. Her world was a
blur of firelight and shadow, sweaty black bodies and hot, white cum. And cocks... an endless
supply of warm, sticky cocks for her to fondle and lick and kiss and nuzzle and rub and,
always, sliding in and out of her loose, sopping pussy. The squelching sound of the cocks as she
bounced and squirmed and gyrated her pussy up and down no longer disgusted her; she was
merely grateful for the lubrication. The dark passion she'd felt earlier with the frenchman
still fluttered and flickered occasionally, but was pretty much non-existent.
"Ahh... oh, yesss..."
The moans and whimpers had likewise become almost automatic. The men seemed to like
them - to require them - so she did it. Every time a new cock slid into her, she'd squeal and
let out a deep groan, like a bitch in heat. Every time a new cock was shoved into her face, she'd
reach for it eagerly, moaning and whimpering in mock anticipation. And, whenever she felt
the cock in her pussy start to pump cum, she'd increase the tempo of her squealing until she
herself cried out in fake ecstasy.
It was what they wanted.
So she did it.
Again and...
A commotion erupted at the other side of the camp. She was so far lost in her daze of cocks
and sperm and mock lust that she didn't notice at first that something was happening. The
screams... the pounding of feet as men ran back and forth in and out of the dim firelight... the
cries and shouts... it wasn't until someone actually discharged a rifle only a few yards away
from where she lay fucking that the englishwoman realized that something was happening.
The man who had been fucking her pulled out, his still hard cock momentarily attached to
her pussy by a long trail of cum and sweat. He tried to scramble to his feet, but something
grabbed him by from behind and slammed his face down hard into the packed earth. Jane let
out a scream as the large, hairy shape leaned down, twisting the man's head and neck until
there was a loud snapping sound the man ceased screaming. The hairy creature let out a
triumphant cry and melted back into the shadows.
Shocked to awareness, Jane looked around the camp. Chaos reigned. She couldn't see the
frenchman, but his men were fleeing in panic, shouting and screaming at the top of their lungs
as the... creatures fell upon them from the jungle shadows. In her confused state, it took her a
few moments to realize what they were.
Her apes.
The subjects of her experiment.
Her proto-humans.
But what... what were they doing? They'd never acted like this before. They had seemed so
peaceful... so docile. Jane stared, wide-eyed as one of her docile, peaceful creatures wrapped
its long, muscular arms around a poacher's chest and sunk his teeth into the man's neck. The
creature's victim kicked and struggled wildly as his severed jugular spat gouts of dark blood
in a long arc into the fire, where it sizzled and spat. Overwhelmed, she turned over and
retched, coughing up mouthfuls of cum and bile onto the packed earth. When her stomach
stopped heaving, she staggered to her feet and began to stagger towards her tent.
It was a mistake.
One of the hairy figures looked up at her from where it had been mauling a dead poacher.
Growling, it dropped the broken body and shambled over towards the frightened woman. She
let out a scream and broke into a half-run, but the creature easily closed the distance. She
tried to run, but stumbled over a body and fell. Letting out an cry of atavistic triumph, the
dark haired half-ape caught up and stood over her. Her eyes went wide as the animal grabbed
her by the shoulders and pulled her up off the ground. It was one of the creatures she had been
studying as part of her experiment. She had spent the afternoon with him, being with him...
playing with him... communicating with...
Communicating!
The half-ape's teeth were inches from her bare neck when she had gathered her wits enough
to let out a high, piercing cry, a greeting sound. The animal stopped, closed its mouth and
looked at her. Encouraged - she wasn't going to die! - she did it again. Then again. The creature
looked puzzled, but, after an eternity, gave an answering scream and let go of her shoulder.
Almost fainting with relief, the englishwoman pulled herself up until she stood in a hunched
over position. She began making quiet grunts and squeals, doing her best to imitate the normal
vocal sounds of the half-apes, using all the knowledge she'd gained in two weeks of living and
trying to communicate with them. It seemed to be working. The half-ape moved back a couple
of feet and seemed to calm down a bit. The madness left its eyes.
Still grunting, the englishwoman began to shuffle away, moving awkwardly towards her
tent. She'd covered only half the distance when she felt the creature's heavy, long-fingered
hand on her shoulder, pushing her downward. She let out a loud squeal, doing her best to sound
like one of the half-apes, but that only seemed to encourage it. Forced down by the pressure on
her shoulder, Jane dropped to her hands and knees, still grunting and squealing desperately. It
wasn't until the creature dropped its weight onto her back and she felt something warm and
fleshy rubbing against her thigh that she realized what was happening. Two hours - a lifetime
- ago, she wouldn't have been capable of interpreting the creature's actions, but her recent
experiences had given her that capacity.
The creature was trying to fuck her.
She let out a horrified, very human scream and tried to scuttle away on her hands and
knees. The half-ape just growled, pinning her with its weight, and she felt hot breath on her
neck as its fangs scraped her shoulder. Jane immediately stopped trying to escape and let out a
series of squeals and grunts. Mollified, the creature stopped growling, but stayed on top of
her. She felt its penis, larger than that of most apes, but still smaller than a human's penis,
sliding along the inside of her thighs, leaving a warm trail of fluid. She bit her lip, trying not
to scream as the creature pumped its hips back and forth, trying... trying...
It finally found the right angle, and the half-ape's cock slid easily into her sopping pussy.
The englishwoman let out a quiet grunt at the insertion, but didn't try to escape. The important
thing was to survive. The shame and humiliation were great, but it didn't really hurt; her
pussy was already slack and swampy with spent cum, and it was better than being mauled.
Anxious to keep the half-ape calm, she continued to emit guttural grunts and squeals. Maybe it
would come quickly and leave her alone. She gazed longingly at her tent, only a few yards
distant.
On top of her, the half-ape began to piston its cock brutally back and forth inside of her.
Jane dropped her head and braced herself against the onslaught; how long could the creature
last? Still grunting like one of the half-apes, she closed her eyes and tried desperately to
ignore what was happening to her body: the musky, animal smell of the creature... the feel of
its thick, matted fur through her torn shirt... the line of drool which dripped from the
creature's mouth and left a glistening trail down her naked shoulder... its long, hard cock,
sliding in and out... in and out... in and out...
With a start, she realized that she was pushing her ass back against the creature's cock...
fucking it back. Not satisfied, the dark lust which had been present in her body during the
earlier rapes began to burn in her pussy. The half-ape's thrusts, crude as they were, were
having an effect. Her traitor body, making no distinction between a man's cock and the
creature's cock, was responding.
"Nooo..."
A wave of horror and shame swept through her as she realized what was happening, but she
couldn't help herself. Her body was doing what it had to do in order to survive.
"Ahhh... ugh... ugh..." Her atavistic grunts slowly turned to pants of lust as she pumped back
harder and harder, forcing the creature's cock as far as possible into her hungry pussy. It
just wasn't long enough! Breathing heavily, she spread her legs a little further and fucked
back against the creature as hard as she could.
END PART TWO
=================================================================
As usual, I am interested in any comments you may have regarding this story,
or any of my other stories.
PARKER23.TXT -- 3/3
LADY JANE GREYSTONE'S REMARKABLE EXPERIMENT
3/3
By Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi
WARNING: This story involves a fair bit of non-consensual sex, humiliation,
domination and - last but not least - bestiality. If this sort of fantasy offends you, then
read no further. That, in case you didn't notice, was a warning.
Copyright 1994 by Parker (me). Feel free to distribute the story
(unaltered, of course), but be discrete.
=================================================================
Rupert Brooke awoke to a nightmare.
Bodies littered the camp.
Half-apes, the very creatures he had been living among and studying with Jane, their black
fur matted and sticky with gore, shambled about like darkest Africa made flesh and bone.
And Jane, the woman he loved, was braced on her hands and knees, her head thrown back and
eyes wild with lust as one of the creatures brutally fucked his cock in and out of her from
behind. The female scientist was emitting high pitched squeals of lust as the creature pounded
away at her, thrusting her hips back against it in desperate, sluttish heat. As he watched, her
squeals began to come faster and faster... matching the thrusts of her bestial lover...
CRACK!
A gunshot split the night. The creatures froze in place for a moment and then melted away
into the jungle shadows. As though they had never been.
"Nooo..."
The creature fucking Jane had pulled away, to the woman's evident distress. Brooke
watched, helpless with disgust and horror, as the half-ape gathered the englishwoman under
one hairy arm and carried her off into the pitch darkness. He tried to yell... to do something,
anything, but a sudden wave of pain and nausea pulled him down into his own darkness.
*****
Silence.
Then: "My god, man," Buckman muttered drunkenly. "You don't expect us to believe that, do
you? Preposterous!" The other two listeners looked equally doubtful.
Reid smiled. "Oh no," he answered. "I certainly wouldn't expect you to believe it. Not
without proof." He reached over to the wall and pulled twice on a bell rope. "Which," he told
them, "is exactly what I've arranged."
A set of double doors opened on the other side of the room.
"Good lord!"
With a quiet rumble, a large cage was wheeled into the dining room by a group of short,
dark men. The men, African pygmies, were dressed in some sort of traditional finery,
complete with brightly coloured loincloths, flashing jewellery and feathered headdresses.
They each carried long sticks, almost spears, and were chanting quietly as they pushed the
cage towards the stunned englishmen.
It was, however, the contents of the cage which captured the men's attention after the first
few moments. It contained a woman. A white woman. She was half-crouched against the back of
the enclosure, her white-knuckled hands gripping the bars, but they could make out her
features well enough.
It was, of course, Lady Jane Greystone.
But a much changed Lady Jane Greystone.
Gone was the haughty manner and sharp intelligence that had so scandalized english
academia over much of the last decade. Gone was the keen wit and sharp tongue that had
dissected many a preconception. In its place was a scared, scarred, confused creature,
huddling pathetically in its cage.
And her appearance...
Her face still retain much of its former aristocratic beauty, but it had been fitted with
some exotic jewellery. A large, golden ring hung down from her nose. It was attached by two
short, slender chains to what appeared to be a pair of silver studs fitted halfway up her
tongue. As a result of this arrangement, she was unable to pull her tongue all the way back
into her mouth. It hung out from between her lips, causing a thin line of drool to trickle
permanently down her chin. Two, smaller rings through her lower lip completed the facial
jewellery.
And that was the least of the changes. Her long, auburn hair had been weaved into dozens of
thick strands, and those strands were threaded through brightly coloured beads. They stuck
out in all directions, giving her a wild, unearthly look. Her ears had been pierced numerous
times, and a number of large golden hoops dangled down and were themselves attached to long
strings of beads which trailed down her body.
And she was naked.
The pygmies pushed the cage into place a few yards away from the table and stopped
chanting. A few of the pygmies left the room as Jane shifted uneasily in her cage. The men
gawked in amazement as the small bells attached to the golden rings through her nipples
tinkled merrily.
"Gentlemen," Reid said expansively, standing and walking over to the cage, "I give you Her
Ladyship, Jane Greystone, recently returned from a most successful expedition into Africa to
locate proof of Mr. Darwin's theory of evolution." The creature in the cage - the woman -
looked up at Reid as he spoke. Recognition dawned in her face, but the flash of hope was quickly
wiped away as Reid turned and gestured for another cage to be pulled into the room.
"Oouuww... oouuwww..."
Unable to pull her tongue into her mouth, the woman's cries of protest were unintelligible
howls. Again and again, she threw herself against the bars of her cage, thrusting her bronzed,
naked arms out towards the men sitting at the table while her nipple bells tinkled.
Imploring... begging for help.
None was forthcoming.
The men just sat there, stunned into silence as a second, larger cage was pulled into the
room. It contained a creature which could only have been one of the half-apes they had
recently heard described. It was a disturbing sight: certainly ape-like in general appearance,
but without the low sloping forehead and prominent chin. And its eyes... the englishmen shifted
uncomfortably as the creature's eyes slid over them. Looking at them. There was a strange
glint of... of something.
Intelligence?
The half-ape turned its attention to the imprisoned englishwoman as the two cages were
fitted together and locked in place with large clamps. With the ease of long practice, the
pygmies unfastened the interior walls and pulled out a section of bars.
The two cages were now one.
"Oouuwww... ouuwww... weeethee..." Panicked, Lady Jane continued to howl unintelligibly as
the half-ape shambled towards her. One of the pygmies shouted something at her, but she
ignored him, still clinging to the bars of her cage. The man shouted again. "Oouuwww...
oouuwww..."
When he saw that his words were having no effect, the small man grabbed a long switch
from one of the other pygmies and began whipping the woman through the bars.
"I say..." Buckman was halfway to his feet before Reid grabbed his shoulder and pulled him
back down. More than a little intoxicated, the bearded academic fell back without a struggle.
"I'll continue my story," Reid said, pouring his friend another drink. The pygmy continued
to whip the sobbing woman while Reid spoke: "After Brooke told me his tale, I was sceptical,
but I began keeping my ear to the ground for any news, any evidence whatsoever, which would
support his story. I had almost disregarded the entire tale as a feverish delusion when I
learned of a new... 'exhibit' making the rounds of certain establishments in the south of
France."
The sobbing woman finally gave in. Letting go of the bars, she crouched down on all fours
and crawled towards the half-ape as her breasts swayed and tinkled beneath her. While Reid
spoke, the men watched, half in horror, half in lust, as she reached over and, still snuffling,
began to stroke the creature's penis. The half-ape growled menacingly, but she emitted a quiet
squeal and it calmed down. When its penis grew hard, she leaned forward and took it in her
mouth, careful to avoid the slender chains which linked her nose ring to her tongue. The
half-ape let out a quiet cooing sound as the woman sucked...
"I investigated, and quickly discovered that the exhibit did, indeed, involve our Lady Jane. A
certain Belgian, who shall remain nameless, had discovered her quite accidentally about a
year ago. His hunting party came across a large pack of these animals in the Congo. His men
slaughtered most of them, and captured the remainder as curiosities. To his surprise, he
discovered a white women living among them as one of them."
After about thirty seconds of avid sucking, the englishwoman pulled her mouth from the
half-ape's now rigid cock, moaning as a trail of spittle dribbled down onto her chest.
Mortified, she glanced over at the table, but saw no help there; no sympathy. The men were
watching with lust; nothing more. Letting out a quiet whimper of despair, she turned around
on all fours so that she was facing the table with her ass presented to the half-ape. Tears
trickled down her face as she let out a series of high pitched squeals and wiggled her ass. The
half-ape answered them with a low grunting sound and began pushing his groin against her
proffered ass. Grunting like an animal, the englishwoman reached down between her legs,
grasped the creature's cock and guided it into her pussy with experienced ease.
"His expedition was not a success, and our Belgian fell upon hard times soon afterward. So,
immediately upon reaching Marsaillies, he sold the apes to the circus. I am reliably informed
that Jane had been most 'uncooperative' on the voyage from Africa, so she was included in the
transaction. The circus people put her and the creatures into the care of a group of pygmies
that had been travelling with the circus, and, with a few cosmetic changes, mostly to stop her
from speaking, she quickly became 'The Wild Woman of the Dark Continent'. By day, she was
exhibited in a freak show. By night..." He gestured at the cage. "She put on a different kind of
show."
One of the pygmies began beating a small drum in time with the half-ape's crude thrusts.
The small Africans began to chant and move slowly around the cage, half-dancing,
half-walking in time with the drum. The three englishmen look startled, but Reid reassured
them: "Oh, it's part of the show." The half-ape let out a guttural cry and began to pump harder
and faster. The tempo of the dancing and chanting followed his pace, and the pygmies began to
move faster and faster.
Inside the cage, Lady Jane Greystone's aristocratic face was flushed red and glistening with
sweat as she fucked her ass back against the creature. A thin line of spittle drooled out of her
open mouth down to the cage floor as she braced herself with one hand against the bars of the
cage and used the other to stimulate herself, first by rubbing and scratching her naked breasts
and then sliding it down between her legs. All the while, she kept screeching and squealing in
the guttural tones of the half-ape, matching him thrust for thrust as her obvious passion
grew. Eyes closed, she seemed to forget where she was - forget *who* she was -and lose
herself in lust. Her passion continued to build along with that of her bestial lover. The pair
moved increasingly faster and the music likewise rose in volume and tempo. Finally, the
half-ape grabbed her hips, ground his crotch against her ass and let out a wild cry of
pleasure. Lady Jane frantically humped her ass back against his hips as best she could for a
few moments and then she too let out a loud scream of pleasure, grovelling sluttishly on the
floor of the cage as she came. The pygmies, who had stopped dancing when the half-ape stopped
moving, let out whoops and cries, laughing and celebrating as the englishwoman twitched and
spasmed in orgasm, impaled on the half-ape's cock.
"Ahh... ahh..."
The men were silent for a few moments, mesmerized as Lady Jane panted and twitched in the
cage, her orgasm running its course. The half-ape let go of her hips, and she fell, limp and
soaking to the floor of her cage. Using their long sticks, the pygmies forced the creature into
its own cage and inserted the bars. In moments, the half-ape was being wheeled away.
Reid looked at his friends.
"My god..." The men were stunned. "That was..."
"Perfect!" Lord Fleming burst out, erupting into laughter. "Bloody perfect." Reid relaxed
slightly as Buckman and Warrington joined the fat Lord in laughter. The pygmies soon joined
in, and the whole room rang with mirth. "A perfect vocation for the little hellcat," Lord
Fleming continued, still chuckling. "She wanted to prove that ape's could be human beings...
now she's proved that human beings, or at least women, can be apes." A fresh wave of laughter
swept the room.
As it died down, Buckman glanced appraisingly at the caged englishwoman. "I say, Reid," he
ventured, slurring his words. "You don't suppose that we could... I mean..."
"But of course," Reid told him, gesturing at the pygmies. "That's what she's here for. As of
last month, that 'service' forms part of her show."
"Ha..." Lord Fleming got to his feet, heaving his massive bulk out of his padded chair. "In
that case, gentlemen, I'll claim privilege of rank."
"But of course, your Lordship," Reid laughed.
The fat englishman got up and walked towards the cage where the pygmies, who knew what
was coming next, opened the side of the enclosure. Inside, Lady Jane looked up with a mixture
of terror and despair in her eyes, but didn't try to pull away. She too knew well what was
going to happen. Lord Fleming came to a halt immediately in front of her. Choking back a sob,
she reached up with a trembling hand and began to unfasten the fat Lord's belt.
"Well trained little monkey, isn't she?" the man bellowed.
A tear ran down her face, but she didn't flinch. When the man's rigid cock finally popped
free, she immediately swallowed it into her mouth between the slender chains and started
running her pierced lips up and down. Lord Fleming grabbed the side of the cage, steadying
himself as his breathing grew heavier. "I say," he grunted, "those rings in her lips are...
effective." After a few moments, Jane pulled her mouth off his cock, turned around and
presented her rear end to him, just as she had done for the half-ape. Letting out a groan of
pleasure, the english Lord stepped forward and sank his fat cock into the waiting pussy. Jane
gasped in pain - the man's cock was much larger than that of the half-ape - but otherwise
didn't react. Grunting with effort, he began to piston his hips.
Outside the cage, the pygmies began to beat their drums and chant, just as they had when
Lady Jane was being fucked by the half-ape. Fleming looked surprised for a moment, but then
grinned. He threw back his head and let out a wild cry, imitating that of the creature. The
englishmen laughed as the pygmies began to dance around the cage. "Well," Fleming bellowed,
slapping Jane on the ass, "let's hear it. You were loud enough for the animal." The
englishwoman groaned, but did as ordered: in a few moments, she was grunting and squealing
like a half-ape while the english Lord, also grunting and squealing, fucked her from behind.
The three men watched from the table as Lord Fleming rammed his cock faster and faster into
the woman's pussy until, finally, he stiffened and came.
Without ceremony, he stepped back and stuffed his cock back into his pants. "Capital," he
chuckled, walking over to the table and downing a full glass of whisky, "Absolutely first rate."
He looked at the other men. "Who's next?"
Without a word, William Buckman got to his feet and strode over to the cage. "Good man,"
Fleming encouraged him. The academic stumbled drunkenly at the edge of the cage, but caught
himself on the bars. Fleming led the other two men in laughter and applause as the caged
woman reached wearily for Buckman's pants. They called out encouragement as Buckman's
penis received the obligatory oral attention and then was plunged into the woman's sopping
pussy. "I say," Fleming laughed as the pygmies began to dance and chant, "that does look like
good fun." The english Lord stumbled drunkenly to his feet and began to dance with the
pygmies, tentatively at first, but then with increasing abandon. Reid couldn't stop laughing at
the sight of the fat, drunken Lord, cavorting wildly around the cage, crudely imitating the
movements of the much smaller, grinning pygmies.
In a few moments, Buckman was done.
Reid looked over at Arch-Bishop Warrington.
"Why..." The clergyman looked more than a little drunk, but had a determined glint in his
eye. "I do believe I will have... have a go..."
"That's the spirit," Fleming called. The Lord had grabbed the sated Buckman from where he
was standing, his softening cock still buried in Lady Jane's pussy, and had dragged him into the
dance circle. "Have at her." The Arch-Bishop staggered into the cage and the dancing began
again. Reid watched, grinning delightedly, as Jane crawled over the service the tall clergyman
while the pygmies, joined by an enthusiastic Lord Fleming and a drunken, stumbling William
Buckman danced wildly around the cage. The dance picked up momentum as the clergyman
anxiously pumped his bony hips against the englishwoman's naked ass. Jane kept her eyes
downward during the rape, but was obediently squealing and grunting as she had for the
others. Caught up in the spirit of things, the clergyman began to howl madly as he plunged his
penis into the woman's pussy. The tempo increased... the drum beat and chanting got louder and
louder... and faster and faster... the dancers spun around the cage, yelling and singing in a wild
frenzy... Warrington howled and howled... until, finally, the clergyman let out a groan and
pulled back. His cock sprung free, sending gouts of sticky white cum all over Jane's lower
back and ass. The dancers, exhausted and sweaty, let out cries of their own and then collapsed
to the floor.
Silence...
Except for the quiet sobbing of the caged woman...
"Did I mention," Reid called out a few moments later, breaking the silence, "that she was
pregnant?"
"Really?" Fleming and Warrington looked up from where they lay, exhausted, on the floor.
"Do you mean..."
"I do," Reid answered, grinning. "By the creature. It happened before she began...
'associating' with the clientele."
"Hah!" The fat Lord let out a bellow of laughter and lowered his head to the floor. "You did
say the experiment was a success."
Reid grinned. "I did, your Lordship. If these creatures can procreate with human females..."
He left the thought unspoken.
Warrington frowned...
*****
"Well, gentlemen."
The cage had been closed and wheeled out of the room. The four englishmen, three of them
still pink with sweat and exertion, were walking down the stairs into the entrance hall. Lord
Fleming had his beefy arm around Buckman's shoulder and was helping the drunken academic
navigate the steps. Arch-Bishop Warrington walked behind them, followed closely by Reid. "I
trust the evening's entertainment made up for my tardiness."
"Indeed it did," Fleming answered. "More than made up, I should say. You've been an
admirable host."
At the bottom of the stairs, the servant helped the guests into their overcoats and then held
the door open for them. Fleming and Buckman went out first, the fat Lord calling goodbye for
the both of them.
The aging clergyman turned as he reached the door and looked back at his friend. "Gerald,"
he said, his face clenched with worry and, perhaps, doubt. "I trust you will see to the
destruction of that woman's notebook and all evidence of her studies. And of her current...
condition."
Reid raised his eyebrows. "Destruction?" he asked. "Whatever for?"
"I..." Warrington looked away. "If people were to learn of what she found in Africa... or what
has happened to her since... well, it might support those who espouse Darwin's hateful monkey
theory. And Mr. Darwin cannot be correct. If it becomes common knowledge that she became...
pregnant with one of these creatures..." The clergyman fell silent for a moment, shifting
uncomfortably, and then looked his friend in the eye. "People might think the creature is
human... that it has a soul... it would undermine everything the Church stands for. It is an
animal, and animals do not have souls." He looked away anxiously. "Human beings," he said
simply, "are not animals."
Reid nodded solemnly. "I understand. You may rest assured that the notebook will be
consigned to the flames before morning; Lady Jane and her 'lover' will soon be on the boat back
to Africa, where the circus is booked for an extended period. You have my word."
The clergyman smiled briefly and then slipped outside into the night.
Reid couldn't help but laugh as the Arch-Bishop disappeared from view. The Church...
souls... surely it was all a jest. Still smiling, the englishman turned and walked swiftly up the
stairs. Maybe, he thought to himself, there was time for one more go with that bitch Jane
before she was shipped off for her next performance.
*****
Back in the entrance hall, the servant swung the door shut behind the final guest and threw
the heavy, metal bolt. Then, with an ease borne of long experience, he removed the glass cover
from the candle and snuffed out the light.
THE END