"I knew some people like that at Montana State," Penny confessed sardonically.
"Go ahead and try it," Danielle insisted excitedly. "It will help!"
Penny hesitated another moment longer as she reflected over the changes that had occurred over the past few weeks of her life…even the changes that had occurred since she and Doug had come to Africa. The city of Dakar, and its Langouste at the Chez Marie-Louise, seemed light-years away from where she now sat captive in a jungle hut.
She popped the pitchi bark into her mouth.
"Now remember," Danielle cautioned, "chew it slowly!" She got hurriedly to her feet and started for the door. "I will be back in one minute," she advised.
Penny's face pinched horribly at the pungent and bitter taste of the tropical aphrodisiac. In a fit of hopeless irony, she decided that the way it must work is that, given the choice between the two, any self-respecting Djambulu girl would rather fuck than chew pitchi bark. Still, she chewed, and let the stuff dissolve slowly on her tongue as Danielle had instructed.
In a few minutes, her tongue began to tingle almost imperceptibly beneath the place where the stuff lay, then slowly the sensation began to spread to her entire lingual surface.
"Hello," Danielle's charming face rejoined from the doorway, "it's me again, madam." She entered the hut carrying a bowl of soapy water and -some rags. "I must prepare you for the King now."
***An hour later, when the sun had passed its apex and was lowering, Danielle explained to Penny that she must go at once to the King's quarters, and that she must hurry, for her husband never tolerated anything that even hinted of disobedience or disrespect towards himself. Indeed, his power among the Djambulu extended to life itself.
Moments later, the young American girl was standing in front of the largest and most elaborate hut in the village-a hut that was easily as large as the typical suburban house.
"Go in, madame," Danielle pressed behind her. "He will be expecting you now."
Penny was struck breathless when she stepped through the door and saw the lavish interior of the King's palace. It was beautifully decorated in traditional Djambulu fashion with carved statuary of ivory and native hardwoods, and countless leopard and lion skins hanging from the walls and strewn about the earthen floor. She was so overwhelmed with her surroundings that she almost failed to notice the imposing figure sprawled in his wooden throne against a distant wall. He was wearing a flowing raffia robe encrusted with cowrie shells an ancient Djambulu fertility symbol because of their startling similarity to female sex organs.
Penny was surprised when, finally, she saw how dark the King really was. His brow was so black that it looked bluish and shone like ebony glass as the illumination of several torches played on his skin. He was ugly, too…and as fat as a baby hippopotamus!
"So you are the American pig!" the piggish King bellowed loudly. He was obviously delighted with his fair-skinned ward fifty years of obesity and ten wives, notwithstanding. "Come you will share my throne!"
With considerable effort, the three-hundred pound African giant made room for Penny on the sofa-size seat of his authority.
Penny took a deep breath and stepped forward. The slow-acting pitchi bark was beginning to have its effect on her, and the tingling that had begun on the tip of her tongue had spread to her nipples, clitoris and…and even her asshole!
The fat King clapped his hands together twice and shouted, "Poma!" Immediately, Danielle bowed graciously, then disappeared through a door leading to still another large room to fetch the evening's refreshments. "You come sit!" the King repeated with a smile that revealed two rows of broken teeth of the same saffron color as his robe.
Penny, too, had been provided with a raffia robe-a blue one that brought out the robin's-egg hue of her wide-set eyes. Careful not to trip over the hem of the flowing neck-to-ankle garment in her bare feet, she stepped up to the low platform that supported the throne. Danielle returned post-haste with the poma and some clay goblets, handing one to Penny as soon as she had taken her place next to the black girl's husband.
She gratefully accepted the potent drink and swallowed several gulps of it right away, shaking her head back and forth as she thought over her predicament. She did not notice that Jabavu had moved closer to her, lightly but hungrily running his black sausage fingers over the softness of her legs as he nodded in appreciation of her youthful beauty. She did not resist when he moved his massive hand down to the hem of her robe. She was so infuriated that she was beyond caring at that point…she knew perfectly well that he wanted to use her body for,his own pleasure, that to him she was only a mass of curvaceous white flesh to use at will.
She also knew that any attempt at resistance would be futile. She could only pray that the aphrodisiac would do its duty.
"You are very lovely," the fat King drooled. "Very soft and smooth!" -
Penny reached for her goblet again and raised it to her lips, draining the contents desperately as she tried to forget what it was that was about to take place against her will. There was no future in resistance-she'd already decided that but still…still she had a slight twinge of doubt in her mind about whether or not she should simply sit there, allowing the disgusting fat black King to caress her thighs and breasts as if he were an old familiar lover or her own husband.
The obese African monarch pulled her still closer, dropping his hand again to let his fingers brush lightly over the tip of her breast. He was growing bolder by the second, and thoughts of the things he would do to this proud young American beauty once she had reached the point of helpless submission tripped excitedly through his savage brain. As supreme ruler of the Northern Djambulu, he had his pick of all the females in the village, any time he wanted them…but it had been a long time since he had been close to such a tantalizing morsel of a girl. And this one had a special talent, according to Da Silva. She would be a delight to debase and defile as only he knew how!
Penny sat motionless. In some bizarre and peculiar way it gave her a secret sense of power to be sitting there like a common slut while a black-skinned African King a man more than twice her age and the life-and-death ruler of literally thousands of human beings--played with her sensitive young breasts and rubbed higher on the inside of her thigh, bringing nerve-shocking pleasure to her throbbing nipples and making her clitoris stiffen in lewd delight. She was almost certain now that the native beer poma had contained the impassioning pitchi bark. But, she thought, so what? If it produced a heightening of the pleasure that was already greater than that she had experienced with the others the previous night. She was already anxious to have him inside her to fuck her any way he might choose.
"Are you ready now, my American beauty?" he asked gruffly, his cruel hands grinding harder against her breasts and naked upper thighs. "Are you ready to feel the cock of an African King?"
Penny could only moan in response. She was helpless. Lost. She hoped he wouldn't read her thoughts and proceed anyway with his lewd, unfair seduction.
"I asked you a question, pig!" he spat, painfully mauling her full right breast for emphasis.
"I-I…oh, dear God, I don't know..!" she wailed.'
She clenched her eyes tightly shut, fighting her own lust with all her strength, but, just as the Guinean Sergeant had done, King Javabu ignored her and quickly unfastened her garment, slipping his massive hands inside to nip teasingly at her lust-swollen pink nipples. Then, abruptly, he released her and sat bolt upright on the throne, his fat fingers busily unfastening his own yellow robe.
"Look at this, pig!" he boasted. "This is why Jabavu is King…and Da Silva a mere sergeant!"